I’ve discovered, in the scant 13 weeks that I’ve been a parent, that as a first-timer, I am basically functioning as a source of amusement to all the rest of the veteran moms and dads in the universe. Being the rookie that I am, I foolishly do things like wash pacifiers whenever they fall on the floor. “Ha,” the wise parents say, “With your second one you won’t bother with that!” I beg to differ, but I know you saw that coming. I am, after all, a hopelessly naive beginner.
My poor pediatrician gets about 457 questions from me every time I see her, or when I don’t see her and she returns my calls to her office. The really crazy part is I know that first-time parents are famous for this, and had determined not to do it. After all, I am a reasonably intelligent person who has a fair amount of experience with babies and children.
As it turns out, all of that experience and reasonable intelligence (along with most other types of reason) go out the window when the baby has a rash, coughs, makes a funny sound, etc. There’s nothing you can do except conform to the stereotype by freaking out and calling the doctor (or Googling everything).
I’ve decided that we’re just going to have to embrace it. Consider my pride swallowed. Yes, husband and I do know what we’re doing (to a certain extent…we’re not idiots), but we need reassurance and a second opinion sometimes. We’re going to mess up. We’re probably not going to do things the same way other people do. But, by God’s grace, I think we’ll get through this parenting thing with a healthy balance of prayer, love, and smarts, even if we do have a liberal dose of anxiety sprinkled in there.