This is what happens when paranoid people became parents

Sophia is three months old. For most parents, three months is like the magic number. It is when things start evening out. Babies sleep longer, they are more aware of what is going on around them when they are awake. They smile often and may even giggle. There is nothing better than your baby flashing a sweet smile in your direction when she hears your voice. For me, three months means anxiety, stress, dreaded anticipation that something is going to go wrong.
I read lots of parent magazines. I learn a lot from those magazines even though some of the articles and most of the reader write-ins make me mad. Keith says I should be given my own column just to respond to the ignorant parents who write in about past articles. I get about three magazines a month that I read (to some degree) cover to cover. In every issue of each magazine there is a least one true-life tragic story. These are the articles with titles like “Saving Baby…” or “Johnny Spends Three Months In The Hospital” and when I get to them I know I shouldn’t read them. They all have that car wreck can’t look away quality. And me being very sensitive read them with my heart racing and tears running down my face. So why should these articles give me a sense of terror and panic for my so far (knock wood) healthy three month old? Because the majority of these stories start with “everything was going just perfectly until Janie turned three months.” I actually hadn’t given her upcoming three-month birthday much thought because we have had so much going on and I lost all of yesterday to a migraine. But this morning, Sophia was a little flushed and seemed a little cranky. You are actually not supposed to determine if a baby is warm by the temperature of their face but anyway…face flushed and a little cranky. Do I subject the poor child to a temperature reading the old fashion way because of my paranoia? I contemplate it while I have her up on the changing table but decide not to as I watch her get all flirty and giggly with her own reflection. I silently berate myself for letting my anxiousness get the best of me and head out to the library. But through our library trip my flirty girl went back to starring at me with glassy eyes and being very cranky. So now I am back to jumping at every little sound she makes. Is this a telltale sign of some impending doom? I know I am driving myself crazy but I can't stop my mind racing to every story I read with the words "I just knew something wasn't right when..." AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! I will be much better once we reach the three and a half month mark. Or maybe four…