I’m talking about my sons’ pediatrician. We’ve known him now for almost three years.  Ever since the morning after his birth, when he came into the hospital room and my husband and I proceeded to embarrass ourselves:

Me: I guess that’s got to be an unfortunate name for a doctor, huh?

The Hub: Yeah, we were laughing about that before you came in!  [Realizing too late]  But I’m guessing you’ve heard that one before.

Dr. Hurts: [Not really amused.] Yeah, yeah.  I have.

Luckily, he forgave us, and now actually seems to have a man-crush on my husband.  Every time he walks through the door and notices it’s just me present for the appointment, the look of disappointment is hard to ignore.

But this isn’t about my frail ego.  It’s about our unfortunately-named doctor.  A doctor that our whole family *loves.*  Could have something to do with his gentle, amused tolerance for my neurosis.  But also because we had a slight scare when our eldest—let’s call him Plus One—was younger.  I’m lucky enough to have two children with relatively nonexistent medical histories.  In fact, Plus One  just had his first legitimate fever at 2 1/2.  (While it nearly killed ME, he emerged unscathed.)

But around age 9 months, there was the Great Autism Worry…similar to the Great Depression, but with less stock market and more Momma Anxiety.  You see, Plus One hadn’t started babbling.  He did a lot of what we described as GROANING (oh, Lord, I still remember that unsettling noise).  He was practically walking.  He was even using a sippy cup!  But the verbals were the prized trophy of normalcy.  He was evaluated and tested and observed.  We talked to family.  Looked at websites.  Read books.  Nothing could help us know if our son was going to break his silence.

Then one day, he just started babbling.  I nearly CRIED, I was so relieved.  His speech was slightly delayed as well, but these days the kid can chatter more than I usually care to hear.  Though, those quirky phrases are certainly one of my favorite parts of parenting so far (”Momma! Can I have some cookie? Here? In my mouth?! PUUUHHHLEEASEE!”).

And Dr. Hurts walked us through it all.  The vaccination debate.  His own experience with having an autistic child.  The worry.  The questions.  And the celebration.

So, I guess that’s all I have to say about the whole thing.  The dreaded AUTISM thing.  I cannot say which is better or worse for YOUR child.  No one really can for sure, is the thing.  All I can say is that it’s scary.  That it’s stressful.  And that doctors know lots about it…probably lots more than bloggers or annoying neighbors or pesky relatives.

In the end, I’m glad we chose what was best for us, and with the guidance of a professional with intimate knowledge of the subject.

(Even if his name suggests and eerie comic book villain.)

__________

*…well, it’s spelled differently, but I don’t want the guy to get too curious with Google.