The 1st Of Many Parenting Whines

“Mrs. Edwards, your baby has The Retard.” OK so, maybe it wasn't said EXACTLY like that, but the basic idea that the pediatrician is trying to convey is something along the lines of “since your crappy uterus can't be bothered with holding a baby until their due day- congratulations, you've made this one Special.” And I'm sitting here all “WHAAAAAA?” in my best Scooby Doo voice.

So all poor attempts at jokes aside, Harlow is not quite meeting her milestones on schedule, even when you adjust for the prematurity, she's kinda slacking on the social skills. Which is fine, she is eventually hitting them all, just not at the rate she “should” be. Poor kid also has super freaks for siblings, which doesn't help her situation. Tyler was talking in full sentences at 15 months and Tori was walking at 9 months. Tough acts to follow, I suppose. But now we're entering into the Big Scary World of Early Intervention. Which is great, I know they do fabulous things for the kids that need them. I just never thought that we would need them. There's no diagnoses, there's not even a real problem, as far as I know. I think it's more “let's do this now so we can head off a potential problem before it starts”

But now I'm left kind of floundering, kind of unsure of myself. This parenting stuff is HARD, let me tell you. It's just always SOMETHING. First, Tyler and all his freaky allergies. Then Tori comes along and her kidneys are all shot to hell. Then Tyler loses his mind. Then Harlow is born early and they think she's blind. Then Tori's cancer scare a couple months ago. Now Harlow is not blind, but she is slow-ish. Seriously, it would make a more sane person run screaming away. But me? Not me. I'm standing in the front yard, shaking my fist at the Universe screaming “Is that all you've got bitch? I can take that with one hand behind my back! You wanna break me? Keep trying!” And so Universe obliges, and the cycle begins anew.