Next up, it's story time. Since birth, Oliver has had this almost congested type sound in his chest. The pediatrician we were seeing told us it was probably just fluid ingested at birth and that it would eventually clear up and go away. It did start to sound like the fluid was gone, but he was still kind of a noisy breather. Along with that we started noticing some signs that maybe he was suffering from acid reflux or something of that sort. When we brought it up to our pediatrician at the two month check up he just said some kids are like that and that his noisy breathing wasn't any concern. So we kind of wrote it off, but it was still kind of concerning to us that he was making these noises. We were starting to wonder if he not only maybe had reflux, but possibly a milk allergy or some other allergy issues. My mom was also noticing some things when he was with her during the day too so my dad suggested to me that maybe we bring him to my uncle who is a pediatrician and has actually been in Minneapolis/St. Paul Magazine as one of the top doctors for many years running. I know you're all thinking, well that's a no brainer, take the kid to him! The day my dad suggested this though I was just not in good head space and didn't take the suggestion all that well, I felt like my parents were implying I was a bad parent (they weren't, I was a bit of a hormonal mess, story for another day.)
Of course over the weekend, clearer heads prevailed and after talking with the Pants Monkey I decided we'd make a follow up appointment with our current pediatrician - he's a nice guy and all, we more or less chose him because he came to do the baby exam when Oliver was born in the hospital. I will admit the decision was made because at the time it was "easy." But, when I called the clinic on Monday and talked to the nurse line and the nurse I spoke with was super ditzy sounding, my mama bear instincts kicked in and I started realizing, if something is truly wrong with my baby, I want to be with someone I know and I trust. I want him to go to my uncle. So yesterday I called my uncle's clinic and explained who I was and why I wanted to come in. My aunt had given the clinic a heads up it turns out, so they were able to get me in within the same day.
Within the first five minutes of my uncle being in the room with us we had a diagnosis. It's a scary sounding word that isn't actually all that bad. It's called laryngomalacia - it basically means he has an immature larynx. What happens is like when you breathe in through a straw and the straw collapses - that is what his larynx is doing and it in turn causes him to sound like a honking goose when he breathes. In very severe cases it can cause babies to stop breathing or have major feeding issues - but that is not the case for Oliver. He will likely outgrow it in the next few months. In my uncle's 35 years of practicing medicine he has only referred two babies to an ENT for surgery to correct it, all of the rest of them outgrow it completely. We felt so much better hearing this news. He also noticed a few other minor things that we have noticed but our other pediatrician didn't really even touch on at all. He gave us some tips on how to help Ollie and said that overall he really is a healthy little guy and we're doing a great job. Again - I don't want to rag on the first pediatrician, but from here on out we're going with my uncle. Mama Bear Instinct for the win. And I'm so thankful my little guy is going to be OK.
