Mickey.  Bear.  More.  Nemo.  No!  Tractor.  Love you.  Hi Daddy.  

These are the words I hear often from my favorite baby boy.  Now, he's not so much of a baby, but a thriving toddler just over 18 months old.  My lumpy bumpy adorable little man.  On our end, we say lots of things back to Grayson, like "Thank you for helping", "Where are mama's keys hiding today?", and my personal favorite "When did you learn to climb a ladder?"  The things we don't hear very much anymore these days are are "cranio"  or "antibiotic", "appointment" or the very dreaded "Bacitracin"  (magically transforming your baby's head of hair into an oil slicked penguin head since 1948!)

This summer has been nothing short of wonderful.  Last year, we enjoyed our summer but I also knew we were looking ahead to a surgery date, and in quiet times - those moments of stillness where you look out the car window, or down at your dinnerplate and find yourself in a momentary abyss of emotion and confusion - I worried. We were facing so much uncertainty.  Was Grayson in pain?  Would he look different after surgery?  What if he reacts to the anesthesia and something terrible happens? Will we all come out of this unscathed in the end?  At times, I almost treated it as our last summer - trying to soak up all the happy times before the clouds rolled in. In hindsight, I didn't need to worry so much.  But I suppose that's the way we prepare to be strong for what's to come, when you don't know quite what you're facing.  It was my mind's way of battening down the hatches, the way you wrap the end of your dog leash around your wrist just in case your hand gives way.

9 months post-op

My little tornado of energy and spunk has continued to grow and surprises us everyday with new developments.  We took him to the ocean and we learned we had a little fish on our hands.  He loved everything about the water, and we often had a hard time keeping him from jumping in on his own.  Josh even took him boogie-boarding, which scared me to death, but they both seemed to enjoy it.  A couple of weeks later we went to Disneyland, and our little cranio warrior was not scared of anything.  He held my hand a little tighter when our pirate ship plunged into the deep cold darkness, but he seemed to love every ride we took him on (including the Haunted Mansion where he actually growled at the scary ghosts), and he loved the impromptu street shows so much that he would cry when it was time for us to keep moving.

He has such an adventurous spirit.  I do wonder if going through so much at an early age has made him a bit tougher.  I'm grateful for everything God has given us, including his strength and his ability to have fun in nearly any situation (even if it backfires on me sometimes when we play the I-don't-want-to-change-my-diaper-right-now game).

As the plastic surgeon predicted, Grayson's screws and plates began to dissolve around 8-9 months post-op, and we could definitely tell things were happening in his head.  His temples got very pointy, and if he took a nap on his side (or fell asleep in the hiking carrier) he'd be a little red and swollen for awhile afterward.  You'd never know it unless you touched his head, but there was definitely a lot going on underneath the surface.  Thankfully, his plastic surgeon was also right about his head being nice and hard. Grayson likes to run everywhere at full speed, and he tripped on the grass and flew head-first into a metal drinking fountain at the park. Every cranio parent's worst nightmare.  I'm surprised the drinking fountain didn't have a dent, but Superman appeared to be just fine.  His incision has continued to flake and scab just a bit in places, which always makes us cringe a little with concern, but it appears the skin is just trying to heal itself over and over.  I'm super impressed by the incision the doctors made on his head.  It looks like they really took their time to do things right.  The zig-zag scar is nearly invisible, especially with all his hair.  The zigs and zags are very tiny, and unless you're looking for it, you'd never know there was a giant white lightning bolt stretching all the way across the little man's head.  Here are a couple of side views:

And here is the top of his head.  Like I mentioned before, his skull is beginning to shape itself back into somewhat of an elongated position.  I think he looks 'normal' and that this is okay.  I'm anxious to hear what the surgeons have to say at our one year checkup in a couple of months.  Look mom, no scar!

I've been thinking about having a "cranioversary" party for Grayson.  With a fancy-pants cake and everything.  A lot of moms do.  Cranio Care Bears even makes a t-shirt that says "It's my Cranioversary!" Of course, some parents are so glad to be over and done with the whole ordeal that they don't really want to think about it anymore, and having a skull surgery anniversary party feels morbid to them. Everyone heals differently.  For me, when I stay involved - when I make prayer chains for Cranio Care Bears for example - I feel like I'm giving a hug to a mom just like me - someone who feels scared, alone, and would give their right arm to take their child's place in the ICU.  Remembering is how I cope.  Celebrating Grayson's one year cranioversary is how I cope.  It turns a hard time into a time of happiness and joy.  And, as my friends and coworkers know, I'm someone who likes to celebrate everything.  I'm one of the most optimistic people you'll ever meet - I don't really see the point in being negative about things when you have a choice to make it better.  But I see a lot of carnage on the job as well, and I'm not naive enough to believe I'm guaranteed to live to be 100 years old.  And so I celebrate.  In this case, I want to remember our year of being strong, being a family, and loving each other so much it hurts.  I don't plan to do it every year (that might get weird) but I'd like to make this one special.  I'll keep you posted :)