I’ve spent countless hours in the pediatrician’s waiting room. Is this a universal issue, or is it just our doctor? Perhaps the idea is that parents of little ones are rarely punctual, so there’s no rush on their end to keep things running like a well-oiled machine.
Recently, I found myself in the waiting area with my daughter, Daisy, for her six-month checkup. While she relaxed in her car seat, I slowly drifted into a Mister Rogers-induced daze—his show plays on repeat on the small TV in the corner during every visit. “Of course, Fred, we can be friends. Love the new cardigan.”
Just as the trolley was entering the Land of Make-Believe, another mom walked in, cradling a baby about Daisy’s size in a car seat. After exchanging the usual pleasantries about the weather and our adorable babies, she started enthusiastically rocking her little one’s car seat. The baby squealed with delight, and I was impressed. I’d never considered this technique before!
Trying not to look too much like a copycat, I gave it a shot with Daisy’s car seat resting on my legs. It didn’t have quite the same effect. Daisy looked at me as if to say, “Really? Is that the best you’ve got?”
While observing the rolling, I noticed something alarming—a tiny hole the size of a pencil eraser in the top of her left ear. “That’s odd,” I thought. Surely someone would have noticed if my baby had a hole in her ear. I mean, I almost left the house without shoes this morning!
As I leaned in closer to inspect, I couldn’t help but feel a bit paranoid. I think the rocking mom and her baby had subtly migrated to the other side of the waiting room. Upon further investigation, I realized the dark spot wasn’t a hole, but rather dried blood.
“Well, that’s a relief,” I thought. “At least it’s not an unexplained hole in her head. But wait—dried blood isn’t exactly good news either! What on earth is wrong with me? Who thought it was a good idea to let me leave the hospital with this baby six months ago?”
Daisy, being her usual chill self, didn’t seem bothered by my poking around her ear. She was busy inspecting her own hands as if they’d just returned from a luxurious spa day. The blood was far enough up that it didn’t appear she was in any serious distress.
As we continued to wait, I debated whether to mention this discovery to the pediatrician. If I said I just noticed it, he might think I’m a negligent parent. If I claimed I had seen it earlier but did nothing, he’d definitely think I’m a bad parent. And if I kept quiet, he could find it and assume I was trying to hide something. The last thing I needed was to be accused of something sinister!
I chose to be honest (leaving out my initial panic about a hole), reasoning that it was better to appear simply clueless than deceitful and clueless. When I finally brought it up, the pediatrician was completely unfazed.
“Oh, she probably scratched herself with her nails. Look, she’s about to do it again,” he said, and I noticed Daisy tugging at her other ear like she was auditioning for a role in a comedy.
“It happens all the time,” he reassured me. I like to think his next questions about lead paint in our home are standard for every six-month checkup—not just directed at me.
For more stories like this one, check out our other blog posts at Intracervical Insemination. Also, if you’re looking to explore home insemination options, visit Make a Mom for expert advice. Finally, for a week-by-week guide during your pregnancy, be sure to visit March of Dimes.
In summary, waiting for the pediatrician can lead to unexpected moments of discovery and parental anxiety, but with a little humor and honesty, we can navigate the challenges of parenthood together.