Self-Inflicted Torture

I signed up for the Babycenter updates for each of my kids when they were babies. You get newsletters telling you about their stage of development and what kinds of behaviors are common, etc. I got a newsletter this morning for Charlie, all about the things I will hear him say that will demonstrate how he is making connections, etc. Of course, what I hear Charlie say is all gobbledy-gook that I can't understand, except for the occassional "no" or "mom" (I do like that one). Getting these newsletters just makes me depressed about everything Charlie can't do, which is entirely the wrong focus and one I drift toward often enough without these newsletters popping up in my e-mail. I think it's long past time to unsubscribe.

These newsletters are also making me freak out about Fitz's lack of consonants. Daily, I deal with the fear that Fitz will have autism, too or some other disorder that will keep me from being able to communicate with him. Every day I worry that he will never talk to me. Last night, Josh and I were watching Fitz happily playing and listening to him squeal and I said, "I hope Fitz is . . ." and then I stopped. Because I was about to say, "normal." And I hated myself for even thinking that word. And I cried.