FORT JACKSON, S.C. -- Last week, I felt like I was taking one of the hardest tests of my life. Unlike the tests I took in school, this was a test of my motherhood -- one I feel like I have been taking since the day my son was born.
So far, it seems I am failing with flying colors.
Every doctor's appointment, my son's pediatrician checks for the magic numbers. His 4-month appointment last week was no exception.
Weight, height and head circumference -- I can now rattle the numbers off like my Social Security number. If those numbers are too low, as they were at his 2-month checkup, I have failed the test.
If they are on target, I am a good mother.
I watched as he was weighed and measured, and snuck a peek as the nurse plotted his progress on her charts. I celebrated when the pediatrician marveled at his weight gain (three pounds!) and his height (75th percentile).
I cringed when she pulled him into a sitting position, only to have his head fall back. "He does it at home," I said weakly, as she scribbled something in her chart.
Besides being tested against the unnamed children used to tabulate the pediatrician's charts, my son is also being measured against other children his age.
I got a phone call the other day asking what he was "doing." Was he pulling up, turning over, crawling' The more I said no, the more I could feel the silence on the other line.
A couple of my pregnant friends asked me what it was like to be a working mom. The hardest part, I said, is the lack of sleep. But in retrospect, I think the most difficult part is these "tests."
Admittedly, I am the one who allows my son's progress to become a measure of my motherhood. For example, when I finally had to admit my milk supply couldn't keep up with my son's needs, and began supplementing with formula, I took it as a personal failure.
I told my mother recently that it is best not to compare one baby with another, and that each baby progresses differently.
My son is healthy and happy, and the pediatrician agreed he is doing well. There is no use comparing him to other babies, I told her, and to do so only causes needless worry.
Maybe it is time I take my own advice.
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