my new year's resolution is to keep being afraid
Christmas came and went, and it was so much better than I expected. My mom finished Gracie's stocking in the (saint) nick of time. It's beyond anything I could have ever imagined, and it's HUGE. So much bigger than we were expecting. It's now my responsibility to fill that monster, which is both exciting and stressful. I've already put in my order for one next year. I love my stocking, but the 80s teddy bears and candy canes have done their job.
I think I've decided that Christmas Eve is my favorite. The anticipation! The build-up! WHERE IS SANTA RIGHT NOW AND WHAT IS HE DOING? Gracie ate half my dinner and then had a fit of giggles at the dinner table. She uncharacteristically woke up crying after the adults finished watching Christmas Vacation, and I rocked her back to sleep while telling her about the first Christmas and singing Christmas hymns. I then slept three hours. I would like to say it's because I was excited about Santa, but really this postpartum insomnia is trying to kill me. Gracie played with her toys Christmas morning and took the bows off all my presents. We ate heaps of food and watched movies and I wore reindeer sweater leggings. The day after Christmas, my parents babysat Gracie for a couple hours, so I met up with one of my best friends who was in town and ran into a handful of old friends I haven't seen in awhile. It was so fun and put me in the best mood.
Too bad it didn't last.
Listen, I've been nothing but crystal clear about my hatred of doctor appointments. Taking your own child is 127% worse than any appointment of your own could ever be. I would rather visit my OBGYN every day for a week than watch my baby get shots. Gracie had her 9 month appointment today and I've been on pins and needles for days, even though I thought everything would be just fine. I knew she had to get a shot, and ever since her scary reaction to her 4 month shots, I've been so nervous before each appointment I nearly make myself sick. Today was no different. I left the house early to grab some liquid courage (a vanilla latte) on the way. We got to the doctor's office, which is always a sauna inside to accommodate the little diaper-clad newborns. The NP we've always seen and have always liked checked Gracie over and declared everything to be fine except her milestones. She's right where she should be, but a little bit of a slow mover. She prefers to stay close to her mama and I can't say that I hate it (except sometimes I do). She says words and claps and points and high-fives and is the happiest little cherub who can entertain herself for hours. According to Dr. Google and another pediatrician, she is technically not behind on anything and doing just fine, but the NP would not listen to me and my thoughts on why she isn't running through the streets at exactly 9 months old and declared something to be wrong. He referred us to the special needs doctor in the office. The doctor, I was told at Gracie's first appointment, we would never meet unless something was very wrong with our child. I instantly burst into tears. There is no one more prone to worry and anxiety than I am, and I have been at complete peace with her milestones. She is the prime example of a child who does something only when she wants and never before, regardless of ability or age or time. Basically, it's clear she's my daughter, as I am the exact same way and fight those tendencies constantly. But it was nonetheless horrible to hear a medical professional tell me he thinks something could be wrong.
As this was happening, my mom texted me that my precious great aunt who I love dearly, has taken a sudden turn and will probably not make it through the day. Gracie was still screaming from a stranger touching her and I was crying over the NP's assessment and my aunt when the medical assistant came in to give Gracie her shot. She was reaching for the syringe when I glanced at a paper on the exam table listing the wrong vaccine. THE WRONG VACCINE. THE. WRONG. SHOT. I jumped into action, screamed, waved, and shut the dang operation down. The poor assistant panicked and ran out the door to find the source of the error. The Nurse Practitioner, my best friend, had accidentally listed the wrong shot. By some miracle I still had enough wits about me to catch it just in time. She came back with the correct vaccine, inspected and verified by yours truly. In that one moment I think I completely changed my views on vaccines. I don't think I need to tell you that we will be switching doctors immediately.
Unfortunately, I have three doctors appointments next week. THREE. Two on the same day! This is what happens when you put them off for a year and then have to schedule them all while your husband is off. After Gracie's appointment, I can't wait to hear the bad news I'm going to get. Maybe the dentist will tell me my lungs are failing? For obvious reasons, I'm just hoping there won't be any shots.