What, Me Worry?

A friend of mine told me, in response to yet another far-fetched concern of mine, that the worries of pregnancy are just a prep course for the lifetime of worry inherent to having a child.  Darn her for being right!  Always striving for excellence in my undertakings, I believe I have taken the art of worry to an entirely new level.  For example, rather than just reading the current literature on the vaccine debate, I have created an Excel spreadsheet to calculate her risk for contracting each of the childhood diseases versus the risk of an adverse vaccine reaction for each disease.  That way I'm not needlessly worrying, it is a calculated concern. Yep, that makes me feel sane and even justified.

But worry is a circular thing, feeding on itself like a tribe of cannibals.  I find myself hovering over her sleeping form in the crib worrying that she's not breathing.  Just to be sure, I eventually place my hand on her chest.  I think I feel her chest rising...maybe I'll just touch her hand to make sure she responds.  Oh, yes.  She's responding.  At 136 decibels, she is definitely responding.  Guess her hands are responsive too as she balls them into fists and shakes them in protest.  But now I'm worried that she won't get back to sleep; and didn't I just read an article about sleep deprivation in babies and the development of ADHD?  See what I mean?  It's a vicious cycle.

And, always the planner, I have begun to pre-worry.  A friend of ours kindly brought us a collection of back issues of the now out-of-print, "Daughters Magazine" which is an excellent resource for the many issues which plague teenaged girls.  They will undoubtedly prove to be invaluable in helping us sort out Izzy's adolescent angst and avoid parental blunders once she enters those awkward years.  In the meantime, why procrastinate?  I can worry now! I'm concerned about her not-yet-existent eating disorder, the carpel tunnel syndrome from the computer use she has not yet experienced, and the incessant and possibly inappropriate texting that she may eventually exhibit.  And that's after reading only the first issue.  Next month addresses coed sleepovers and provocative clothing.  

One of my major sources of anxiety is the fact that babies are especially astute at picking up nuances of emotion.  So what is all of this worry doing to her delicate psyche?  My overwhelming concerns that she may one day run with scissors or become a fanatical nail-biter may in fact contribute to the very behaviors I'm trying to avoid.  And trying not to worry is like trying not to picture a pink elephant with black glasses.  Ha!  You can't do it, can you?  (Part of that may be the picture I have so conveniently placed next to the text in a subliminal gesture to make my point.)

So far, despite my anxiety, I have avoided being labeled as Munchausen by proxy by our pediatrician.  The concerns that I have aired at her doctor's appointments have thus far fallen into the realm of normal.  But I also haven't mentioned my observation that her pinkie toe is longer than her other toes, the unusual width of her tongue, the irregular shape of her belly button, or the asymmetry of her ears.  Perhaps I'll mention only one of these at each of her next vaccine appointments. (You know, spread out and mask the psychotic behavior.)   Speaking of vaccines, and in case you're wondering, by my calculations she has a 1 in 600 chance of contracting one of the vaccine-preventable childhood illnesses, and an overall 1 in 2500 chance of having a serious vaccine reaction.  Divided by each of the 13 vaccine appointments, this equates to just under a 1 in 200 chance of problems at each visit.  But who's counting...