Having just come from making sure Lex was breathing, I thought I should mention the all-encompassing paranoia and fear that goes with being a parent. Forget all the worries about what you might be doing wrong, the things that, if you stuff up, will ensure you kid thinks rap is actually a valid musical choice, or that socks and sandals are a fashion statement.

This presupposes that your child will actually survive that long.

There's so many things out there to keep you frightened. For instance, this last week, even though nothing has changed, I have suddenly found myself checking on Lex several times a day to make sure he's still breathing.

I still remember taking off Lex's sleepsuit only to find that during the night a single 3cm long hair had wrapped around his middle toe, cutting into it deeply enough that the end of the toe had turned a reddy-purple colour and had swollen to twice it's size. The crease in his toe has finally faded.

And then there's all the other stuff...

- Sheets and blankets have a life of their own and they like to smother babies.
- Keep the pets away, dogs will eat your baby, cats will steal their breath, the mongoose will mistake it for a cobra!
- The first time you don't have your child strapped down on the change table, it will roll off and hit the floor with an audible thud!
- The first time you fail to take your baby out of the car seat and carry it in with you while you pay for petrol, that is when there will be some baby stealing psycho nearby who will pinch your kiddie and bring them up to be the sort of person who enjoys watching reality TV.

All this is before your kid has independent movement.

The best description I can give you is not one of my own, but comes from Jeff Vogel's book, The Poo Bomb.
"I know now that I did not truly understand terror until I got myself in a
position where I loved someone who thought staples were food."
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From: [identity profile] frzn-mmnt.livejournal.com


Aerin is nearly 18 months old and I still go in a check on her a half a dozen times during the evening to make sure she is still breathing.

From: [identity profile] callistra.livejournal.com


*hugs*
This is definitely the hardest part of being a parent. When I had V I felt my heart shatter and I knew it would never be the same again. And living with these sorts of terrors all the time and yet also the greatest joys...
And god help us if something bad actually happens...

V fell off the change table once, but I kind of sort of caught him/squished him against it during the catch... he was fine and I was completely shocked.
I still sometimes check to make sure they are both breathing. So does Chesh.
:-)

From: [identity profile] callistra.livejournal.com


Oh, and because V was looking at all the baby icons... here's him for his pleasure
:-)

From: [identity profile] satyapriya.livejournal.com


And the joy when you take your boy toddler to be sized for shoes and find that he's grown 3 sizes inside 2 months and you have been stuffing his feet into too-small-shoes. I felt like the Queen of Bound Feet.
Or the pride you feel when someone takes a photo of your gorgeous girl-baby asleep at a backyard barbecue - in the flower bed, clutching an empty beer can.

From: [identity profile] callistra.livejournal.com


All the photos my family get, my son looks doped up! Half lidded eyes and slumped against something! He's a very bright and alert boy, I have to explain when I see them!

From: [identity profile] ariaflame.livejournal.com


Well, when he's sleepy is obviously the only time you can get him to stay still enough for a photograph.

From: [identity profile] mireille21.livejournal.com


I've just been expressing similar fears myself, and I wish I could stay awake and watch him sleep the whole time to know he's OK.

However will I survive being a parent?

From: [identity profile] livelurker.livejournal.com


You'll always do it, it's just that you'll do it less frequently and get faster at picking up the signs they're ok.
.

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