Day 500: A tip from a worried mom

Here’s what not to do when you feel yourself having generally baseless and irrational fears that your baby might be autistic: Do not Google “baby autism symptoms.” Do not spend an hour reading through the results of that search and making a mental checklist of every sign and symptom that sounds familiar. Do not cry to your husband about the thought of your baby slipping away from you, thereby totally freaking him out. Here is what you should do: Pour yourself a glass of wine, talk to a friend who can bring you down off the ledge you’ve climbed out on (that’s a figurative ledge, not an actual one – I’m not that crazy… yet), and accept the reality that these are fears that most parents have at some point.

My mom assures me that she was entirely convinced my brother was autistic because he seemed to have a lot of excess saliva. She also was certain that I had leukemia because I bruised easily. I still bruise easily, I never had leukemia. Luckily, by the time my younger brother came along all her worries must have been spent. Maddie is 16 months and I have already falsely diagnosed her with (in no particular order, and for very brief durations): colic, reflux, muteness, seizures, night terrors, and some type of as-yet undiscovered muscular atrophy that renders babies unable to crawl or walk.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: she’s nuts. The thing is, I’m really not. No more than anybody else, at least. I’m just a mom, and with that job title comes a whole lot of worry. You may not believe it, but in general I’m a pretty laid back girl. I don’t rush to the doctor at every sneeze and sniffle; I didn’t panic when she took a tumble down the stairs; I didn’t cry when she scraped her little knee, or the time she bit through her lip hard enough to make it bleed; I don’t make the leap to a concussion when she gets a little bump on the head. Those things I take in stride. What worries me is the unknown – that vast and dangerous terrain. I can bandage a scrape and kiss a bump all better, but how do I protect her from all those things that maybe, possibly, one day, might go wrong? I guess the only thing I can do is to accept the fact that I can’t do much.

Now, didn’t somebody mention a glass of wine?