Our pediatrician is amazing—gentle, down-to-earth, skillful, grandmotherly.
In our first interview with her, I bombarded her with questions. I think I did the same when she showed up in the delivery room, not long after Willa was born. And when she came to my room in the maternity center to give us discharge instructions, I still had questions.
She looked me in the eye—I can still see her level gaze—and said, “Just take her home and love her.”
It was the kind of advice that drains worry from your body, relaxing muscles you hadn’t realized were tense.
“Oh,” I thought. “I can do that. I can remember that. It will be OK.”
In the months since then, I’ve worked myself into quite a few tizzies. It’s not hard for me to find something to worry about. Is she eating enough? How can I tell? Is that diaper rash? Does she have reflux?
I have two strategies for dealing with the anxiety—well, two healthy strategies. First, I enter my questions into Sprout Baby, trusting that I don’t need to know the answer until our next pediatrician appointment.
And second, I replay these words in my mind: “Just take her home and love her.”
Tomorrow, our little girl will be seven months old. Are we past the ‘take her home and love her’ stage?
Nope. Just love her. Everything else follows.