I sat in the paediatrician’s office and played him a video clip of my baby son. He studied it as I fretted beside him. When it finished I nervously asked if there was anything wrong with my child.
“Annnnd, um, what is it exactly that I should be noticing?” he asked cautiously.
“That weird way he’s talking!” I cried. “You see the way he’s trying to make babbling noises but he’s doing it with his mouth shut? That’s not normal, is it!?”
He gave me that look doctors sometimes give first time mums. You know the one where they’re trying to decide if you’re an over anxious mother or just a bit slow?
“He’s just fine,” he said with a carefulness that told me he’d decided I was one of the slow ones.
It wasn’t the first and certainly won’t be the last time I’ve worried over something ridiculous when it comes to my children. I’ve worried I worry too much and I’ve worried I’m not worrying enough. I’ve also worried that my worries are not quite sane… but I’ve spoken to enough mums now to know I’m perfectly normal. Whatever that means.