Charlie has been teething something fierce for the past week or so. I hope this is the reason I haven’t heard a word other than “Hi” or “Bye” out of Charlie the last few days. She doesn’t even say “Ma ma” anymore. She has reverted back to using grunts and screams to communicate.
My concerns over this regression had to be hidden as we waited in line at the crowded grocery store this afternoon. Charlie smiled, waved, and blew kisses to the people around her. One lady asked, “Does she talk yet?” I adverted my gaze, shuffled my feet, and with a sheepish smile said, “No, not yet.” In reality, I wanted to snap, “Do you hear her talking!?!”
It didn’t end there. Another lady said, “Pretty soon, you will wish she didn’t talk.” I groaned silently to myself. But, politely smiled and kept my mouth shut.
I detest those type of comments. It reinforces how we are strangers to the “typical” baby/toddler experience. People frequently make remarks about how I should enjoy that she can’t run around, be thankful she doesn’t talk, or that I should remember babies grow up so fast. None, of which, are true for us.
We continue to exist in another world. A world that they can not possibly understand. And I hate that.
Maybe today, I am more susceptible to those negative emotions due to the stress I’m feeling. Other than what’s happening with Charlie, my upcoming surgery is also weighing on me. Logically, I’m aware that things will be fine with my surgery. Emotionally, it is not as easy.
I worry what will happen to Charlie and her medical care in the tiny chance something bad happens to me. Additionally, I have a Pavlovian kind of nervousness and fear. Mostly, because the four or five failed epidural attempts felt like torture before my last surgery (my C-section). I’m not looking forward to getting back up on the table.
Today, I’m a little short and snippy. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do about it other than take a deep breath and get through it.
One of my favorite pictures of Charlie swinging.