An apple a day...

If only it were this simple to keep all health problems at bay. Those farmer's market honeycrisp apples are really terrific though.
Domingo has his 12 month check up this week, and is scheduled to get his vaccines on Saturday. Coming from a family of "true believers" and being a pretty hard core true believer myself, it is not without trepidation that I type this post.
With all the news and articles and coverage recently about autism, and boys, and possible links to vaccinations, I am a little ashamed to admit, I'm really quite scared to death of it. I know on a certain (deeply buried, rational) level, that what I am really afraid of is the unknown, and there are oh so many unknowns that come with parenting. Were I to get off my lazy butt and do some research, inform and arm my (almost non-existent, rational) self with actual facts about the subject, I would probably feel much better, and still make the decision to vaccinate.
Instead I'm hypnotized into hysteria by Larry King Live, and internet blogs and radio snippets, that collectively build up this mythic "AUTISM" that currently houses all my parental anxieties. I'm not saying that autism is a myth, (of course) just the version in my head is not entirely based in reality. I have just enough information to be whipped into a frenzy, but not enough to actually have an informed opinion. I am, I feel, naturally, and rationally concerned because boys are more likely than girls to develop autism, and, hey, my son, HE's a boy. Therefore, (here comes the not rational part) I now must scrutinize every little thing he does, or doesn't do, and analyze it: is that normal? is that a "warning sign"? what about my "mother's intuition", what is that saying? do I even have any? am I insane? (I alreadly know the answer to the last one).
I remember having similar feelings of anxiety when Domingo was a teeny tiny newborn, and everything was a DANGER! I would often place my hand lightly on his sleeping chest just to make sure he was breathing. I would freak because he absolutely refused a pacifier, and there was research that showed babies who use pacifiers were less likely to have breathing problems in thier sleep. And he was a boy, again, more statistics to add to my worries! I would wake up and go over to his bassinette and lean down so close to his face and not move or breathe until I could hear his soft whispery breaths. Even though I knew the biggest risk factors for breathing problems were related to smoking, and I am just about the most vehemently anti-smoking person I know, I still did not let it go until after Domi was 4 months, the statistical "you can relax now" point. At the time, I chalked this up to new parent jitters. Yeah, no one told me that those don't go away, ever.
New parents or not, for this generation, every one before it, and every one to come, there is always something to be worried about with children, every step of the way. Yesterday it was SIDS, today it's autism, tomorrow it will be day care, then schools, then college, then sex, then drugs, (then rock and roll? oh wait, not that one) where does it end? It NEVER ends. That realization alone is enough to send me hyperventilating in the corner. Either there, or running to my OB for that IUD I've been eyeing.
The thing to realize here is that I'm a worrier, I think it's genetic. (Oh God, I hope I didn't pass that on to Domingo!) I want the very best for him, and I want to make every right decision for him, which I know is impossible, which is why I worry.
The key to managing my predisposition towards chicken little-ism is maintaining perspective. My son is a wonder. He is a joy to everyone who is lucky enough to get to be around him. What ever happens in his life, I'll be there to worry, to cheer, and to hold my breath until I know everything is fine, and then for God's sake to turn off the tv/internet/radio/voice in my head and just go to bed already.