Torticollis. That's what Charlie has. I pretty much knew this going into his chiropractor appointment yesterday, but I think some insane part of my mommy-brain was still holding onto a sliver of hope that maybe I was just overreacting and the chiropractor would look at me and say, "My Lord! What a perfectly healthy baby who has no problems whatsoever. Get out of my office, you crazy lady, he's fine." Not so. She actually said exactly the opposite of that: that his neck and spine issues are "really pretty bad". And she must have seen the panic flash across my face, because she quickly added, "But we'll FIX it! No problem at all! Easy!". So she "adjusted" him (if you can even call it that at his age...she basically touched his spine with her fingertips a few times), and stretched his little neck as far as it would go, and told me to do the stretches as many times at home as he would allow without screaming The Scream. And he absolutely loves the stretches. I mean loves them. He loves them so much that he has come to know what to expect as soon as I lay him on the floor, upside down to me, and he gets anxious and starts screaming before I have even laid a finger on him. Crazy screaming, with drool and hands flying every which way and I'm pretty sure that he would be gnashing his teeth if he had any. But we're doing it because I'm fairly certain that if he could speak he would tell me that he does not, in fact, wish to go through life with a sloped forehead, twisted face, and only being able to look in one direction. And I do not care to experience what happens when torticollis is left untreated in a baby, since the chiropractor actually said the words "helmet" and "malformation" in the same sentence to me yesterday. Want to see a mother's heart leap right out of her chest and smack her in the face? Say the words "helmet" and "malformation" to her in relation to her three month old child.
There's nothing wrong with me, fools. I'm like Zoolander...I just can't turn left.