Monday, December 3, 2007

To crawl or not to crawl...

Thomas is 9.5 months old and he doesn’t crawl. There, I’ve said it.
He is semi-mobile, but the mechanics of forward motion really escape him for the moment. My knowledgeable mommy-self knows this is not a big deal: babies crawl when they have developed the need to get beyond the reach of their bodies. He is apparently content to catch whatever is falling into his circle of influence (which is wide enough to include the dog’s water bowl when my back is turned, mind you).
But, a voice in the back of my head wonders… should I teach him how to crawl? Maybe I haven’t been modeling enough for him… maybe I wear him too much...maybe he needs more motivation… How do you teach someone to crawl? What motivates a baby? As far as I can tell, the only thing he won't lose interest in is nursing – maybe I should lie topless just out of reach?
Sigh… isn’t all this supposed to get out of your system with your first child?


I realize that I am out of bed when my hand is already on her door knob – even though I don’t know what I heard, I know something is wrong. When I open the door, Isabelle is sitting on the bed, gasping for breath. Her eyes are wide and she is reaching for me.
My head knows what this is: the croup – a common childhood virus of sudden onset (she was fine when she went to bed) characterized by a seal-like barking cough. It is not serious usually, as it is easily treated with steam/cool air and rest.
But my heart breaks… I gather her up in my arms and rock her while the shower runs. When the steam doesn’t help in a few minutes, I find myself in my pyjamas, sitting on our wet front porch with her wrapped in a blanket in my arms.
She calms, but is still having difficulty breathing, so I send her to the ER with her dad (and mine for good measure…). The men are ill-prepared – several times the intake staff suggests that perhaps it would be best to call her mother.
The triage nurse barely needs to look at her – “it’s the croup”. This strengthens my husband’s unwavering, if entirely unfounded belief, that I know everything about children. He is proud of me and I am thankful for his faith. And we are all grateful when a chipper Isabelle returns with a tired Daddy and a deep sleep fall over us all.
p.s. Yay to the great staff at Sick Kids - we are so fortunate to have them.