A growth is what they found, alright.
Our daughter has a cyst thing in her abdomen. I say "cyst thing" because two ultrasounds, two ultrasound techs, one regular OB and one high risk MFM later, all anyone can tell me is, "It could be a teratoma. Or a dermoid cyst. Or a swollen ovary. Or an ovary with torsion."
"It's probably not cancer. Maybe."
All anyone can tell me is, "I dunno man. Come back in three weeks and we'll see if it's growing."
It's cruelty, really, because I can do bad news if it has a name. My coping skill is research. I can spend my long nights and no sleep pulling up case studies, meta studies, firsthand accounts.
I don't even have a 100% definition for this. I have sitting and waiting.
We booked a maternity photoshoot for two days after our next ultrasound. We have the baby shower a week after the news.
The high risk doctor says he will refer us to the pediatric surgical team, but it's not a for sure thing she will need surgery yet.
I told my brother that booking the shoot feels simultaneously morbid and repudiant. We are proceeding as though the cyst is simultaneously nothing to worry about and also killing her.
I dunno, man.