parenting, worrying about parenting, and worrying about worrying about parenting
Jan 11 2007 10:11 AM filed in: bringing home
baby |
confessions
of a cluttered mind | life in
general
I've been
dreaming a lot about having a baby again. Not about
physically giving birth, of course, but about
actually having a baby in our care that is our child.
It seems more real these days - I can actually
describe the baby's features, I know the child's
gender, I know how it came to be in our care - unlike
my earlier dreams in which I simply found myself
caring for a child with no idea how it all came to
be.
I think it might be because I feel closer to actually becoming a parent than I ever have before. We haven't finished our homestudy - we both have appointments this afternoon with our doctor, who has to fill out a form for each of us, and I'll bring this last bit of paperwork to the agency either tomorrow or Monday. Then we just have to meet with the social worker, who we hope will approve us. There is still much to do, but I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.
It's not all sunshine and bunnies, though.
Last night I dreamed that we had a baby, and that we went to visit my parents - and that we forgot to bring the baby & left her (it was a "her" in this dream) in Buffalo. Now, I know that it's very unlikely that even I would forget to bring my child along on a trip 400 miles from home. And certainly G - Mr. Memory Like an Elephant - would never forget something so important. So it's a silly worry.
(Why do we say someone has a memory like an elephant, anyway? How do we know elephants have good memories? It's not like you can ask an elephant, "Did I turn the lights off before we left Burma? I can't remember.")
But clearly I'm worried. And I find myself wondering: Is it a first-time parent thing, is it an adoptive parent thing, or is it an ADD thing? Or maybe, by becoming a first-time adoptive parent with ADD, I will actually achieve a neurotic trifecta: worrying that because I don't know what I am doing, I will screw up; worrying that if I screw up, I will scar my child for life and eventually she will come to hate my guts and wish I'd never adopted her, and run off to be with her birth family, which is infinitely better than I am; and worrying that because the peculiar way my brain works makes it inevitable that I will screw up, this is all probably a very, very bad idea.
G says he can picture me out & about with a baby, suddenly realising I've left something important - like the diaper bag - at home.
I worry that I'm going to accidentally drive off with the infant carrier on top of the car, or trip going up the stairs holding the baby because I'm not paying attention to what I'm doing.
Heather tells me that everything about the way you think changes when you become a parent - that you're more aware of what you're doing. Matt and Rhona tell me the same thing.
My mother tells me I'm worrying too much.
Common sense tells me that if my father managed to get through all those years with infants & small children & never drive off without us or drop us on our heads, I'll probably be OK.
And I think I know - logically, in that part of my brain that doesn't get much of a workout when I think about these things - that I will be OK. But it doesn't stop me from worrying.
I think it might be because I feel closer to actually becoming a parent than I ever have before. We haven't finished our homestudy - we both have appointments this afternoon with our doctor, who has to fill out a form for each of us, and I'll bring this last bit of paperwork to the agency either tomorrow or Monday. Then we just have to meet with the social worker, who we hope will approve us. There is still much to do, but I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.
It's not all sunshine and bunnies, though.
Last night I dreamed that we had a baby, and that we went to visit my parents - and that we forgot to bring the baby & left her (it was a "her" in this dream) in Buffalo. Now, I know that it's very unlikely that even I would forget to bring my child along on a trip 400 miles from home. And certainly G - Mr. Memory Like an Elephant - would never forget something so important. So it's a silly worry.
(Why do we say someone has a memory like an elephant, anyway? How do we know elephants have good memories? It's not like you can ask an elephant, "Did I turn the lights off before we left Burma? I can't remember.")
But clearly I'm worried. And I find myself wondering: Is it a first-time parent thing, is it an adoptive parent thing, or is it an ADD thing? Or maybe, by becoming a first-time adoptive parent with ADD, I will actually achieve a neurotic trifecta: worrying that because I don't know what I am doing, I will screw up; worrying that if I screw up, I will scar my child for life and eventually she will come to hate my guts and wish I'd never adopted her, and run off to be with her birth family, which is infinitely better than I am; and worrying that because the peculiar way my brain works makes it inevitable that I will screw up, this is all probably a very, very bad idea.
G says he can picture me out & about with a baby, suddenly realising I've left something important - like the diaper bag - at home.
I worry that I'm going to accidentally drive off with the infant carrier on top of the car, or trip going up the stairs holding the baby because I'm not paying attention to what I'm doing.
Heather tells me that everything about the way you think changes when you become a parent - that you're more aware of what you're doing. Matt and Rhona tell me the same thing.
My mother tells me I'm worrying too much.
Common sense tells me that if my father managed to get through all those years with infants & small children & never drive off without us or drop us on our heads, I'll probably be OK.
And I think I know - logically, in that part of my brain that doesn't get much of a workout when I think about these things - that I will be OK. But it doesn't stop me from worrying.
Bookmark: ...