I have several friends who are nurses, and over the years I've heard many anecdotes about paranoid patients, the ones who call at the slightest twinge or skin irregularity. I've laughed with my friends and have always thought that I'm certainly not that patient. And when it comes to myself, I'm not that patient. In fact, when it comes to my own health I probably should call the doctor more than I do.
But when it comes to Asher, I am that mom. You know, the one who calls when her son grunts a lot in his sleep, thinking that his breathing is compromised, the one who sometimes can't differentiate between the most-normal-baby-thing-ever and ohmigosh-we-have-to-call-the-doctor-now.
Today we paid a $20 copay to be told that no, Asher does not have thrush, as I suspected. But here's the thing: I've accepted that yes, I am that mom--at least for now, while I'm figuring out this whole parent thing--and I am totally okay with it.