Web MD

There was no post yesterday because my child was sick. I'm not sure what was wrong with her, but she seems better today. Believe it or not, the vague nature of that statement reflects my growth as a parent over the last 22 months.

After she was born, we kept her in the hospital room with us rather than sending her to the nursery. One night I noticed that she was having difficulty breathing and frantically pressed the emergency button for help. No one arrived within the 30 second window that I was willing to wait so I put her in the little plastic hospital baby cart and ran full speed down the hall to the nursery. I started banging on the door like a lunatic, "Help, help, my baby can't breathe. Do something!" The nurse opened the door, looked at my daughter for all of three seconds and started laughing. Another one walked over to see what the commotion was and in between laughing the nurse relayed my concern, "He says the baby can't breathe." The second nurse looked at my daughter and started laughing too.

I went into CIA mode real quick. I was thinking, "I don't know who these inept, heartless wenches are but I see a sink in the background and a receiving blanket. Someone is getting waterboarded until I get the help my kid needs." The first nurse couldn't stop laughing so the second one put her hand on my shoulder and said, "She has the hiccups, sir" before bursting into laughter again.

Keeping my paranoia under control in the beginning was a challenge to say the least. I didn't get much sleep because I kept waking up to make sure she was still breathing. I found myself playing CSI with her diapers, trying to analyze the liquids (and solids) that came out of her. If she so much as sneezed I was checking the house for pollutants and every time she caught a cold I saw it as a personal failure on my part to protect her from life.

Over time, however, that changes. Your worrying can fire on all cylinders for only so long. Either you burn out or you find yourself earning an honorary doctorate in Pathology thanks to all the calls to the nurses line, trips to the doctor and research on the internet. I'm the latter and I've evolved. If it won't result in a broken bone, lacerations or pregnancy...have fun. The other day she licked the elevator floor and I was like, "Meh, she'll be alright."