Can you believe it? I’m “big time” now that I have my first guest blogger. Well, maybe I should just tell you now that she’s my sister. She is a mother of a 17 year old and a 6 month old and writing is her job. She doesn’t, however, have the opportunity to write about her little munchkin for work and so over here at Perfect Piece of Time, it is the perfect time to write a piece about flat head syndrome!
Flat Heads & Little Blessings
By Brooke’s Big Sister Stacy
As a guest writer to Brooke’s inspiring blog, you might think I’m feeling some pressure. On the contrary, because how could I compete with the “goodness” that is her nature. She’s always been the “good” one, but she’s had her moments…I digress.
While I have my own stories about how the Lord is working in me, I’d rather focus this post on being a mom the second time around. Only it’s not what you think.
Since my not-so-teeny baby girl was born, I am slightly paranoid about her getting “flat head syndrome.” Call it vanity, call it silly, call it what you will. But have you seen people with flat heads? Not the best look. And to know that I could be the cause of such an unfortunate physical trait, I’ve been determined to keep her head nice and round.
Yes, there’s the classic tummy time. But let’s not forget the role sitting and activity centers play in keeping a nicely shaped noggin. Oh, and don’t you dare leave your child asleep in the car seat. That’s a major no-no if you’re aiming for circular proportions. So great was my concern that I bought, and exchanged, three (yes, three) different car seat head rests to prevent flat head syndrome. I finally found the one by the makers of Boppy, which claims, “We love round heads.” Sold.
So far, so good. Until Jeff caught onto my paranoia and started agreeing with me that my sweet daughter did in fact have a misshaped noggin. What? Are you kidding me? He’s right, I thought. Well, he was kidding. But it was starting to look misshaped upon closer inspection, now that he mentioned it. So I’ve devoted countless hours on the floor making sure Jade is propped onto something soft and that she can freely move her head around to form it evenly on all side. Don’t get me wrong; I love doing this anyway. But can’t a mom have multiple motives? Does this make me a bad mom?
I blame the Internet, a foreign concept to me when Connor was first born. Back then – the Dark Ages of 1995 – flat head syndrome didn’t exist much because parents didn’t lay their babies on their backs! So I never once worried or thought about Connor’s head shape, and you know what??? He has a perfectly round head. I guess I took it for granted.
While thoughts of doing the Lord’s work and helping my elderly neighbors do enter my mind, I can’t hide the fact that other thoughts – admittedly selfish or silly – do consume me. In this instance, it’s a flat head. Of course, I would still love her just the same. But if she wasn’t born with a flat head and then suffered this fate because of me, well, that’s another story. And one that Jade might remind me of later in life when she realizes that her profile isn’t as dimensional as it should be. It doesn’t help that she’s bald, and the lack of hair only emphasizes every curve or lack thereof.
I love my baby Jade (affectionately called Jaby by Uncle Kevin). I love her to pieces. I’m not sure I thought that was possible as a mom, again. But it’s surprisingly easy to love this little girl – flat head or not, bald or not, cute or not so cute. Because she’s my precious baby and I have the privilege and blessing of being her mother. So maybe the next time, I won’t worry so much about the shape of my kid’s head. Well, maybe.
Okay, it’s me again, Brooke. In closing, about being the “good one”, I just wanted to share with you a journal entry that I stumbled upon recently that I wrote. The prompt was “I am afraid”:
Monday, Sept 23, 1991
I am afraid of my sister turning 16. She is very irresponsible and wants my dad to get her an Amigo for her 16th birthday. She already drives my mom’s car without telling my mom. She drove around my grandma’s coltisack (cul-de-sac) and I was in the car and my mom still doesn’t know.