Or maybe she doesn't...

This past week we took Grace to an ENT whose perspective on her little breathing problem was quite different than our pediatrician's.  He stuck a little tiny camera up her nose and down her throat and proclaimed that the problem was acid reflux.  He came to this conclusion because the camera showed that her throat was really irritated and swollen--due to all the acid coming up from her stomach, I suppose.  I wonder if maybe it also had to do with a camera being shoved into it against its will.  :0)  

I had mixed reactions to the news.  First, I felt proud.  I had always felt that Grace had acid reflux.  Whenever I read anything about the symptoms of it, it seemed like Grace manifested each and every one of them.  Thinking I was just being a neurotic, paranoid mommy, I didn't give much credence to my personal diagnosis.  When the doctor did, I had a moment of pure joy thinking that I actually DO have intuition (and inspiration) where Grace is concerned.  

Hooray!    

Secondly, I felt silly.  When I was in high school, one Saturday morning I woke up early with (what I deemed) severe stomach pain.  I went up to my parents' room and told them of my stomach woes.  Seeing as my dad had not too long ago been operated on for appendicitis, he rushed me to the ER thinking I had the same thing.  I agreed readily to go along with this because I am always perfectly willing to believe that my health problems are more serious than they really are.  It could be just a dash of hypochondria or...maybe just a flair for the dramatic.  Call it what you will.  :0)  At any rate, I came home just a few hours later with my tail between my legs.  

Turned out, it was just gas.  

For some reason, Grace having acid reflux (which is quite common it seems...everyone I know is coming out and telling me that their niece, friends' child, brother, sister, dog, etc. had it) feels the same to me.  No, it's not some rare, malformation of her windpipe; it's just baby heartburn.  

Third, I felt relieved.  Acid reflux is treatable (whereas I can't imagine tracheomalacia would have been) and we've already seen some improvement, we think.  So, we're happy.  Now I just have to get down how to give her the medicine.  For some reason, I keep squirting it all over her instead of slowly expelling the liquid from the thingey (baby medicine dropper?) like I always mean to.  Grrr.  I blame the thingey.  Since, as we all know, I am a wonderful, intuitive mother.  He, he.