Posted by Duff

I find it really hard to believe that I have an almost 2 1/2 year old. The fact that she conducts herself like a real (if combustible) person hardly seems to be my doing. It’s miraculous that she can feed herself, insert commas into her speech or remember where she put something last week.

How did we get here?

 I know I read a few books. Asked a lot of questions at the hospital, at the pediatrician’s office, on various phone calls to various moms at various hours.

I just have a really hard time remembering how we got from birth to today. What the things were that I was supposed to do and not supposed to do actually were.  And in just this brief span that feels more like The Way It’s Always Been and tends to be a lifetime in the field of medicine,  especially dos and don’ts, I’m sure a few things have changed.

Someone who has never been pregnant said to me yesterday, “You’re pregnant? Well, then don’t eat mushrooms.” When I asked why, she told me they’re fungus. I know they’re fungus. But I still wasn’t sure that was bad, as long as they were legal, intended for consumption mushrooms. And I don’t eat mushrooms anyway – I don’t like them – so I didn’t Google it afterwards (though I googled peppermint tea because it’s all I want to drink and then I found out that someone once felt contractions from drinking it and so I put down my cup of peppermint tea and gave myself a psychosomatic contraction).

I feel like the only things I remember are “don’t let an infant get too hot or cold” (and the associated panic that goes along with trying to determine how someone who can’t speak feels when I still can’t tell if The Dervish, who can speak, is too hot or too cold) and “don’t use regular wipes at first, stick to soft paper towels and water.” (Do they still tell you that?)

When The Dervish was a newborn, I was really, really quick to turn on the light and change her diaper any time she awakened at night, and before I fed her. As is common with breastfed babies, she needed a change mid-feeding. So I changed her twice. She screamed twice. I panicked twice, when once would have been less taxing on both of us. But she couldn’t tell me how wrong what I was doing was for her, and I refused to get it.

Now The Dervish can tattle on what (or who) ails her. She is still telling me about someone who bit her three months ago. How on earth does someone figure out what’s bothering a newborn? How did I?

Oh, that’s right, I didn’t. I was really, really bad at figuring out what was wrong, despite the bottle/burp/…um, what are the other two ‘B’s on the “4 ‘B’s” checklist?

Crap.

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