Comments

• Heather says...

  May 6, 2012, 10:22 a.m. 26323

  Hugs!!! I can tell you evertrhing will be ok, but it isn't the same as your Mom being there. (((HUGS))))

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• Ruth says...

  May 6, 2012, 12:47 p.m. 26324

  Everything will be ok!! There are a lot of resources out there that can help you educate yourself about tests and screenings. Take a look at http://www.savebabies.org/ and www.pulseoxadvocacy.com to learn more about life saving tests for your baby.

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• IWantThursdays says...

  May 6, 2012, 9:17 p.m. 26329

  These are all mom questions we all ask ourselves. Things will work out. I wish you had your Mom still with you too. It's not the same but The Band is here to listen and help.

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• Kristine says...

  May 7, 2012, 12:46 a.m. 26334

  ((((hugs)))) I think many of us worried about losing our babies. Pregnancy can be such a scary time. :/ I'm sorry your mom isn't here with you. Sending lots of love.

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• Daoinee says...

  May 7, 2012, 7:36 a.m. 26341

  These are fears that every mother goes through, that does not lessen them by any means. Having a child is akin to taking out your heart and letting it run around in a different body. Educating yourself on tests/screenings, or whatever subject, can help. The most important thing is not to allow your fears to paralyze you. The thing we all fear is the unknown, and the knowledge that you cannot control things that may happen to you or them is scary. Cherish the time you have, and plan on getting up in the middle of the night and licking your finger to check on the baby breathing. Raise your child in a way that honors your mother, it won't replace her by any means (that is impossible), but you will know that you have created a child that truly carries the best parts of her into the future. Those that question themselves and their parenting ability are usually the ones doing the best, the ones assured of their perfection are the ones to be afraid of.

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• Mark says...

  May 7, 2012, 11:08 a.m. 26343

  I saw this post and I recall with vivid detail the crippling fear I had as a new dad. I wasn’t saddled with any of the real work in this arrangement, and pretty well just tried to be as supportive as I could be. The big day arrived, and when the heavy lifting (er, pushing) was finished, we had a healthy baby boy, no complications whatsoever. I had but one small task and that was to take Zachary from his mom for a while, and let her sleep for a bit. Sounds easy? As is typical of all stressful events in my life my immune system takes a holiday and I get sick. And by sick I mean simply a very bad cold, and I lost the ability to speak. Now as perspective, I wasn’t giving birth, I wasn’t in any real pain, I was just a bit uncomfortable and incommunicative and in a bit of a haze. I was however, as always, focused on the one real fear I’d had for the last nine months – I know nothing about kids, and I am deathly afraid he will expire in my care. My lovely wife smiles as the boy is handed to the father, and is pretty well in rem sleep by the time her head hits the pillow. Dad’s on Deck. I’m propped up on this tiny cot at the foot of the enormous chrome adjusto-o-pedic hospital bed my wife is slumbering upon, and I can’t shake this feeling that something is going to go wrong. They give newborns this little hat to wear, to keep their heads warm. It’s about the size of a halved tennis ball made of some thermal material. The room is pitch-black, and I try and relax and hold him like the nurse showed me. My cold meds are making me feel very woozy, but I know I can’t fall asleep, because DAD IS IN CHARGE NOW. With the glow of my cellphone screen I have checked his little hat 20 times, as I was told that 90% of the body heat escapes through the head, and ‘at this time, it’s important he stay warm’. Right. Got it. Head Warm. Dad Alert. Dad falls asleep. I don’t know how long I was out, but when I awoke with a startled shock, I immediately checked the little hat. The hat had fallen off, and the head was cold. And I mean real cold. I am in the worst place in the world now, stricken with a realization that my worst fears have indeed come true - and all within the first few hours of taking on the responsibility of a father. I quickly placed Zach on his back, held the cellphone up to his tiny face, only to see his eyes blinking open and closed, sporting (what appeared to me) to be a tiny grin on his face. Nothing was wrong. The dang kid lost his dang hat, and his head was a bit cold. That was almost 10 years ago. Nothing drastic or grievous has ever happened to Zachary. He is the perfect boy, and the only kid we will ever need or want. I constantly dream that he will be snatched, hit by a car when he bikes, will kill himself when he skiis, and in general I am never, ever relaxed. Irrational fears keep us sharp. Irrational fears make us human. You will be an awesome mom. I can tell.

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• crleclaire says...

  May 7, 2012, 4:32 p.m. 26355

  Thank you everyone. I have calmed down some and looking forward to holding her soon. You words and tech hugs mean so much!! I'm so glad to have The Band to talk to. *hugs!!!*

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