As I sat at a recent baby shower, watching a glowing mom-to-be unwrap gift after gift, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. I wished I could experience that thrilling moment again—the exhilarating rush of impending motherhood. There she was, on the brink of life’s most significant transformation, balancing the world of freedom with the new reality of parenthood. (But not too much balancing, of course… because, well, you know… dilated vaginas.)
The excitement that comes with being a first-time mom is truly something else. I found myself longing for that sense of wonder, the thrill of navigating uncharted waters, and the sense of achievement that comes from overcoming challenges. And let’s not forget the plethora of baby gear! Seriously, where were all these gadgets when I was a new parent?
Then, my mind drifted back to that one fateful day at the pool. My little girl was around four or five months old, and I decided to take her swimming solo for the first time. We were having a blast, splashing around, until I noticed that the skin around her eyes had turned a bright shade of red, and she was rubbing her eyes like they were on fire. Panic set in. Clearly, this was an emergency, and there I was, the frantic mom ready to face the worst.
I frantically gathered our things and rushed to the car, convinced that every worst-case scenario I’d ever read about was unfolding right before my eyes. I called the pediatrician, and the nurse didn’t seem nearly as concerned as I was. Didn’t she realize my baby was having a dramatic allergic reaction or potentially contracting a life-threatening virus? I even imagined she might have cancer. I insisted on coming in immediately, and luckily, the nurse agreed to squeeze us in.
However, as I drove, I felt a growing unease. Those rear-facing car seats sure know how to keep you on your toes. I couldn’t see my daughter, and those strange noises she was making made my heart race. What if she was having trouble breathing? In a panic, I dialed 911.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“I’m on the side of the road, and I think my baby is having trouble breathing!”
“Okay, ma’am. Is your baby turning blue?”
“No.”
“Ma’am…”
“Yes?”
“Ma’am, is that your baby crying very loudly in the background?”
“Yes, that’s her.”
“Ma’am, if your baby is crying, that means she’s breathing.”
Oh, right. Maybe I needed to chill out a little. It seemed the situation wasn’t as dire as I had imagined, but surely the pediatrician would figure out what was wrong and praise me for my quick thinking.
“Doctor, I don’t know what’s wrong. Her eyes turned red, and she was crying! Is this a serious allergy? Should I have gone straight to the ER? Will she ever be able to play the violin?”
“Looks to me like she just got a little sunscreen in her eyes. The redness is already clearing up. Next time, try zinc oxide; it’s less irritating.”
And that, my friends, is why I’m grateful not to be a first-time mom anymore. I’ve learned to resist the urge to jump to the worst conclusion in a matter of seconds. Now, it takes me about five minutes, but I can usually bring myself back to rationality before involving 911.
Experience has shown me that very few situations in parenting are true emergencies, and I’ve developed a more trustworthy gut instinct. My first-time mom gut was filled with irrational fears and a wild imagination—what if we were that 0.01% of parents whose baby was kidnapped? I was clearly relying on an inexperienced gut.
That expectant mom can have all the fancy baby gadgets. I’ll happily chill with my lightweight purse, confident in the fact that if my child is crying, she is indeed breathing. And I also know that no matter what diaper a new mom uses, it’s bound to smell like caca pretty quickly.
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Summary
The article humorously explores the panicked experiences of a first-time mom, contrasting it with the calmer approach that comes with experience. It highlights the irrational fears that often accompany new motherhood, while also celebrating the excitement of navigating the unknown.