About three days before Christmas, Connor fell over and hit his head on the dishwasher door. I applied a bandaid and hugs and kisses and after a few minutes, he toddled off, secure in the knowledge there was still mischief to be found. I, however, was a mess. What if it had been worse? The possibilities of what could have happened ran through my mind. A couple of days later the bandaid came off and the incident was forgotten.
Yesterday I took him to the eye specialist to see what he thought of Connor's 'cross eyes'. Sometimes it's quite obvious, other times you can barely notice it, but lately it's been more of the former than the latter. There was some concern over his ability to look directly at an object. This meant that he no longer relied on both eyes and that it may already be too late.
The doctor ran the appropriate tests and gave me the good news. He still uses both eyes and his vision is clear. But it won't remain that way for long. We have to act now in order to make sure he keeps his eyesight. This means an operation. Yes, they want to put a knife into both my baby's eyes. The dishwasher incident is nothing in comparison.
My thanks to Calli for letting me talk through events this afternoon. I know the family is really feeling the strain, but we'll get through this together.
The thing is this. Ever since it became apparent that Connor had a problem (at about 4 months old) I've been asking myself if it's my fault. Did I do something wrong in labour that destroyed his nerves. Did I not push when I should have pushed, did I bear down when I should have panted? The simple answer is "no" he was born this way. But even knowing this, I still feel guilty. He's my beautiful baby and I shouldn't have let this happen to him.
They're going to do what?