Tuesday, June 19, 2007


I've never been much of a worrier. I'm the laid-back mama who lets my kids play, who lets her kids develop at their pace. I always have a watchful eye, but I try not to smother.

Then along came G, and I've become that mother. The one you talk to who always thinks something is wrong with her child.

I see this about myself, and I don't know what to do. I don't particularly like to think I'm a worrywart or paranoid. I want to be calm and relaxed, but his recent history has warped my perspective.

What I'm most afraid of, though, is being dismissed by the medical community as THAT mother. So far, my record is pretty good in knowing when something was wrong. I'm always questioning myself, though. Is something wrong? Am I overreacting? Over and over I do this, and I try not to make a call unless I'm sure. Reading through some of the medical blogs only reinforces this doubt in myself. I don't want to be perceived as an overanxious parent caught up in having something wrong with her child. I don't want to be perceived as stupid or ignorant.

My latest concern has been tethered cord. I find myself looking for the signs, and I'm finding some. Every little thing that occurs, that is different, that "could" be something, is always, always about the shunt. G's been napping more and sleeping a long time. This could be attributed to a number of things. But there's this "but", and it is so hard to take things at face value. I hate losing that, I hate not being able to appreciate more sleep without that "maybe" surfacing. The one that I haven't spoken out loud because I KNOW it's silly is whether he's laughing too much. Seriously.

Do I seem officially over the top now on the worry factor? He giggles and giggles about something, and I honestly have been concerned that he's laughing too much. Worried that somehow his brain is being affected by pressure causing him to giggle incessantly. Now, honestly, why can't I just enjoy it? I do enjoy it, and I always end up laughing a long, but there's this cruel thought in the back of my head going, "I hope this is okay. I hope this doesn't mean anything serious."

Okay, maybe writing that out was a good thing. I'm giggling to myself now at how ludicrous it sounds.

It's so strange for me to worry this much. Worry isn't a good thing. It doesn't solve anything, and it only causes stress. And stress ain't no good. It gives me a big belly.

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