A lifetime of worrying…

Today, I have been sad.  Richmond Baby has a cold, it’s not a particularly bad cold, but it’s bad enough that she’s had a snuffly nose and a little cough and her eyes have been a bit watery too.  Each time I looked at her little poorly face and she made a little whimpery sound, it broke my heart.  And this is a cold….

Poorly Poppet (okay, admittedly this was taken after I'd just squirted saline nasal decongestant up her nose, but still...)

In fact, when I brought her to the doctor (well, I had to be sure it wasn’t pneumonia or anything, who am I to diagnose what is and is not a cold eh?!) he barely defined it as a cold, simply saying: ” she looks fine, she hasn’t lost her appetite, her temperature is normal, her chest sounds normal, her ears and throat look fine… she might have picked up a virus, she should be fine in a few days, it’s nothing to worry about…” (of course the fact that she was grinning from ear to ear at him while I was explaining my concerns about her health, only served to justify his diagnosis that she was indeed fine and I was indeed a neurotic)

But of course that’s just it, “nothing to worry about” is no longer part of my vocabulary.  I have always erred on the side of worrydom, but now, having become a mum, it’s gone into overdrive and I can see it’s only going to go from bad to worse.

I worry when she cries, I worry when she doesn’t cry.  I worry when she sleeps too much and when she doesn’t sleep enough.  I worry when she pukes and possets: have I fed her too much? not enough?  Is she too hot or too cold?  Is she pooing too much or not enough?  Really, the list is endless and it started me thinking about something my own mother once said to me about the constant worries she has about my sister and I:  “you never stop worrying, no matter what age your children are” – and now, finally, I can understand just what she means.

Richmond Baby is just shy of 12 weeks old and has brought us more pleasure and joy than I could have ever thought possible, but I can see that coupled with that will also be a lifetime of worry… will she get sick, will she be okay at nursery/school, will she fall into the wrong crowd, will she end up a binge-drinking ho-bag hanging out in the park during her teenage years (hopefully not given she’ll grow up in Richmond, but you never know… she might rebel and there are a choice of parks to hang out in…).

Already on the mend – photo taken this evening after a day of taking it easy and hangin’ out with Mr Frog

I fear I might never want to let her out of my sight, just in case.  But, clearly, that’ll impinge on her having any social skills let alone a life of her own, what’s a mum to do?!  For now, I shall just enjoy the fact that I can keep her close and accepting I’ll have to tackle each worry as it comes, I’ll try not to be overwhelmed with the what ifs.

Are you a worry-mummy like me? how do you deal with it? or do you just take each day as it comes and not dwell on the what ifs?

5 thoughts on “A lifetime of worrying…

  1. My Mum kept taking the sister to the doctor when she was little when she knew she was poorly and suffering but none of them seemed to help or suggest what was wrong. Then one day there was a locum at the surgery, who told her her he knew exactly what was wrong. “What’s wrong with this baby is that her mother is completely neurotic”. He told her my sister was fine and my mum was just taking all her stress and selfishly putting it on to my sister, who needed nothing more than to be left alone by her. Actually my sister was allergic to milk. My mum still has immense guilt for all the suffering that my sister went through, none of which my sister can remember and I’m sure we’re all glad that she didn’t let the evil doctor put her off.
    Glad the gorgeous little miss is on the mend.

    • See, it just goes to show that mums know!! I shall go back to the doc if Richmond Baby shows no signs of improvement – although today she seems much improved, coughing considerably less but snorty snuffly nose is still evident

  2. As my mother in law (mother of six) once said to me (when I thought she had been somewhat over-interested in what her son – my husband – had been up to AND before I had babies of my own) “They will ALWAYS be my babies”. ‘Course once I had my own, I understood its a lifetime job! Greatest job in the world.

  3. Total worry mummy, like you! Zachy is 21 months old now and as he has become more mobile, he can get into so much more trouble and there’s so much more out there that can hurt him! I have got better at not panicking straight away though, I always hover close by him when we’re out but try to make sure he some freedom to explore too. When he’s sick, I have got better at resisting the urge to dial 999 and will try a cuddle or calpol first. It’s so tough because we love our babies so so much and the thought of anything bad happening to them is too much to bear. We wouldn’t be mums if we didn’t all worry about our children so don’t worry about the worrying 😉

    • You’re so right, it’s too much to bear that anything bad might happen to them, and I know she’ll get plenty of colds and worse in the years to come! The being mobile thing scares me right now, as you say, so much opportunity for disaster and crashing/banging into things, argh! Will need to make some changes to our home I think…! 🙂

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