My Baby Wears a Helmet

Well, to be more precise, it's a CranioCap.

I found out about two months ago that he would probably need it.

Actually, "need" isn't the right word. Since Josiah developed torticollis, he had some head flattening on the right side. The doctor said it was "in the top third" of severity, and Ben and I talked and prayed and decided it would be wise to get the helmet. It was just a judgment call, like so many things in life.

I almost wrote this blog post then, when we knew he was going to get it, about how I would feel as a Momma with a little boy in a helmet.

Really sad. Because I don't want him to suffer through an uncomfortable helmet.

Embarrassed. Because it feels like a walking signpost, "I'm a poor mother."

Self-conscious. Because people would look at Josiah and see a helmet ... not a precious baby.

I kissed that little soft head every night, thinking, "I am just going to hate it when a helmet is on this sweet little head and I kiss hard, cold plastic, instead of this little peach fuzz."

I was dreading it.

He got the helmet about two weeks ago, and I will be honest. It hasn't been like I expected.

Josiah is totally fine with the helmet. We probably wouldn't have gotten it if it was going to be painful or distressing for him, since it is simply cosmetic. But even from the very beginning, he hasn't shown any signs that it is uncomfortable or annoying. He doesn't particularly care when we take it off or put it on, and (aside from going through a rough stretch with an ear infection) he's sleeping fine with it.

Further, I'm not embarrassed. Well, not normally. I know that torticollis is almost always preventable in babies, and if I had known what to look for, I probably could have prevented the neck and head issues. But I didn't. I feel a little foolish for that, but I think that in the spectrum of things that I will get wrong as a mother, this is not the worst! And I wonder if somebody, somewhere might be encouraged to see me with my little cutie pie in a helmet and maybe feel better to know that I'm messed up. Like everybody is messed up. And maybe that will ease the sense of pressure to make it look like we all "have it together." So I'm praying God will make that a little picture of grace for someone.

And Josiah is still Josiah. He's a precious little boy, and a helmet doesn't cover that up. All kinds of people come up and want to meet him. At Pizza Ranch last night, a kid told me, "That's a cute baby!" Some people ask about the helmet, some don't. But bottom line, it's a really good lesson: what's on top isn't as important as what's underneath. And what's on the outside  isn't as important as what's on the inside.

I still love snuggling his sweet little head when he's not in the helmet. But when I'm putting him to bed, with his little white cap on, I can still kiss the tippy-top of his little head.

One more example of God's (surprising) good in things we wouldn't choose.