Don’t Worry, You’ll Do Fine

worry
v. worried, worrying, worries
v.intr.

1. To feel uneasy or concerned about something; be troubled.
2. To feel anxious, distressed, or troubled.
3. To bother or annoy, as with petty complaints.

How on earth is it possible for me to be so worried about every little thing? After the seemingly unending weeks and months we spent surrounded by doctors and nurses and the fear of the unknown, I’m more worried now that she’s home than I ever was while we were in the NICU. In the hospital, we had a safety net of professionals to tell us at all times if what we were doing was correct, and if not, how to do it properly. We were told what cues to look for if she was in distress, and told how to react if a situation arose. When we were discharged we were handed a stack of printed notes on how to care for our child and her tackle. We were more than prepared to handle this on our own—we’d just had a seven month crash course in parenting. Who could be more prepared to bring a baby home than us?

So, go figure, now that we’re home my list of worries is unending.

Is she sleeping enough?
Is she sleeping too much?
Did I give her the right med just now?
Did I measure the right amount?
Do I have enough syringes?
Did I remember to rinse her mouth with water after her puffer?
When was the last time she pooped?
Did her poop look normal?
Do I need to bathe her every day?
Is the bathwater too hot?
Too cold?
Is she bored?
Do I need to entertain her more?
Does she want me to leave her alone?
Is there water in the humidifier pot of her bipap machine?
Is there enough oxgyen in the tank?
Did I remember to charge the battery?
Did I program the pump correctly?
Is she allergic to the cats?
Does she like her outside walks?
Is the sun in her eyes?
Is she tired?
Is she sleeping too much?
Is she growing?
Is she hitting the right milestones?
Does she like me?
Will I do this right?
Will I break her?

Of course I don’t think about all of these things all of the time, but at any given moment I can find myself in the middle of my day, thinking about one or three or five of the items on the above list. Two weeks ago, outside of the hospital the only things I needed to worry about were Did I remember to pay the hydro bill? and What do I want for dinner? I’m suddenly responsible for a fourteen pound human, and knowing that she’s reliant on her Dad and me for her every need has me just a bit nervous that we’ll miss something important and somehow scar her for life. I know that the fact I’m worrying about all these little things means that I’ll do just fine, but still, it’s hard not to worry.