Every few days I freak out and go on an Internet binge to figure out all the things wrong with Baby E. This results in The Great Repetitive Googling of the following topics:
– Development and/or milestones
– Developmental delays
– Cerebral palsy
– HALP WHEN WILL WE KNOW WHETHER OR NOT OUR BABY WILL BE A NORM
You will be surprised to discover that despite all this searching, I never find anything remotely helpful, or rather, anything that adds new information to what we’ve already gotten from the NICU and the pediatricians. And yet I still keep looking, trawling, searching for that magical and medically reliable website or page that will tell me immediately what is the what.
It’s also depressing to realize and examine how desperately I want Baby E. to be normal. He’s not normal, he was never going to be normal, and normal is a jerk word anyway. Sure, it’s an amazingly comforting jerk word, used by jerks (and I fully include myself in that number) to delineate acceptable from unacceptable, good from bad, and other mythical/social stratifying creations. All I want is to say, Baby E., you are normal and healthy and everything is fine. Which is silly. He could be the King of the Normy Norms and still have a sucky time at life, yes? Yes. And with the renaissance of nerdom we’re seeing some sexification of abnormal. I shouldn’t actively want normality for him.
Maybe I’d have an easier time accepting whatever lies ahead, be it Normal, Abnormal, Abby Someone, or Norm From Cheers, if I just knew what was out there, what lies ahead, period. We don’t know. We won’t know until he gets older. We have to wait. I am terrible at waiting. No, really — I am probably the least patient person I know. Good thing I had a kid, what a genius decision that was. So, after I freak out and binge-search and work myself into a frothing frenzy about real and/or imagined symptoms, dangers, and outcomes, I remind myself that we all may get hit by a bus tomorrow. That shuts up my brain for at least a half hour.
In honor of abnormality: