Seriously, what's with those funny hats?

Tomorrow morning, we'll take Sophia and Evelyn for their twice-a-year check-up at the Shriners Hospital's osteogenesis imperfecta clinic. I don't mind telling you that this impending appointment causes me no small amount of anxiety.

What will the doctors find wrong this time? What is it that's been lurking undetected lo these many months? Fractures we never suspected? Dangerously bowed limbs? Limb length discrepancies? Other ailments my hypochondriac mind hasn't even dreamed up yet? Here we've been thinking they're fine, no OI-related problems -- things are tripping along nicely, thank you very much (as long as no one actually trips).

But since our last visit in April, both girls started crawling, then pulling up to stand, then cruising. Sophia had a bit of a fall. Both girls have bonked their heads and behinds countless times in the process of learning to stand. What damage has been done?

At our first Shriners Hospital visit, we didn't have this fear. We waltzed in with our miracle babies who survived a 10-week NICU stay and who, by golly, wouldn't be held down by this blasted OI. They're made of steel, I tell you! So we were not at all prepared to learn that, somehow, without us even suspecting it, both girls had broken several ribs. How does that happen? How does a baby who can't even roll over yet, whose parents have been trained to be so cautious they never pick her up by the midsection, how does this baby break -- not one -- but several ribs? And -- not one -- but two babies did it! How?

So, let me tell you, we lived with fear after that appointment. Every time we picked them up, we worried that we were breaking a bone. Every time they cried for no reason we could discern, we were sure they'd broken something. It was constantly in our thoughts. What's broken this time?

Turns out, nothing (as far as we know). Nothing has broken (as far as we know) since those ribs nearly a year ago. The girls sailed through their second Shriners Hospital visit six months ago with barely a comment from the doctors. They have survived all of the normal learning-to-be-a-toddler stages with no damage (as far as we know).

And yet, the fear is here to stay.

So, we'll find out tomorrow if the (as far as we know) becomes an (I can tell you for sure). We'll see if we can start the next six-month cycle with a cautious optimism instead of a petrified terror and guilt about a) having allowed them to break bones and b) not even knowing it, that's what bad parents we are.

Wish us luck.