Fact: I hate taking my girls to the doctor. Now, this may seem like a common sense comment; after all, most parents don't like to take their kids to the doctor because it usually means that their child is sick. But I hate taking my girls to the doctor even for their wellness check-ups. My stomach gets nervous, my hands get sweaty and I occasionally stutter at even the simplest question like "patients' name, please?". You see, as premature babies, my girls are small, and inevitably, there will be a mom in the waiting room who is just dying to know all of the girl's stats- and compare them with her baby's stats. "How much did they weigh when they were born? How much do they weigh now? Are they crawling yet? Are they walking yet? Can they do Chinese Algebra? Have they figured out Newton's Laws of Physics yet?" On and on and on the questions go and without fail, this incredibly well-meaning but annoying person will say something like "they're just so small!". And it's true- my girls are victims of two truths (1) they were born 5 weeks early and (2) their mother is short. I wasn't always short. In fact I was an Amazon-type woman through elementary and middle school but decided to stop growing at the age of 12. So it's no surprise to me that my girls are small, but apparently other people find their size to be downright comical. You see, Chloe can now, at almost 11 months, pass for an 8 month old. Poor Livie still looks like she's 6 months old. But they crawl and walk if you hold their finger and do most of the things that "normal" 10 month old babies do. But I find myself ignoring all of these incredible milestones and comparing my babies to single babies that had the luxury of their very own uterus. And when I see a baby that I could've sworn was 14 months old and realize that they are in fact 9 months old, there is part of me that becomes sad and even self-conscience. I know that mom is comparing her baby to mine, and 99% of the time, that baby is always bigger, taller, a better eater...
I dread knowing that I'll have to listen to stories about how her baby was so big at birth they confused him for the doctor and how their child is so far ahead developmentally that they'll probably skip primary and secondary schooling and go directly into college- Doogie Howser style.
I've spent a lot of time obsessing over these interactions despite my husband's constant reminder that most preemie babies catch up by the age of 2. These interactions have led me to panicked nights where I can't sleep wondering if I'm feeding them enough, stimulating them enough, challenging them enough... loving them enough? It's as though reading the girls that 15th board book of the day would all of a suddenly make them jump up out of their cribs and begin to walk. What goes on in my mind is downright crazy.
Well, the other day I received an email from a parent of one of my students at school who wanted to know what they could do to further challenge their already "A" student. As I wrote back an encouraging email about how wonderful that child is already I suddenly thought to myself, " Will I be this demanding when the girls grow up?" Will I be so obsessed with what my girls are not achieving that I will miss the fact that they are utterly amazing? From what I see as a teacher, this happens all of the time.
The bottom line is this- I need to calm down. (Yes, Geoff, you're right). My girls are perfect. Yes, perfect. And no, they may not reach every milestone as dictated by that "What to Expect" book but the fact is that they are just fine. They're more than fine... they're Chloe and Olivia.
So this coming Friday we will be going to see the GI doctor and without a doubt I will run into "crazy comparison mom" in the waiting room. I wonder what would happen if I told her that the girls are only 5 months old? She'd probably drive home obsessing over why her child isn't as developed as those twins she saw crawling and holding their own bottles in the waiting room. She'll obsess because she's a mom. And thats what mothers do!
