When I was a teenager, my parents somehow acquired a banana tree. I am not really certain how this happened or where it came from, but we had a small banana tree sitting next to the floor speakers of the stereo.
The banana tree required a Miracle Grow stick to be placed in its soil once a week. The Miracle Grow sticks were located on top of the floor speaker.
Eventually the sticks fell into the banana tree soil and were not found until the banana tree began to grow at an amazing speed. It was almost as though it was growing before our very eyes!
It grew and grew and bushed out and looked as though it might start to have bananas. And then it turned black and died.
If you know me and my family, you know that our Supergirl is extremely tall for her age. Every morning when I see those long tan legs splayed across the bed, I wonder how on Earth she got SO long.
At her well-child appointment last week, the doctor was also troubled by her height and it was no longer funny. He had her hand x-rayed for a bone age study, and the study came back indicating that she does have advanced bone age. He wants to wait until her next birthday, to see if she continues to grow at this pace. If she does then she will begin seeing a pediatric endocrinologist, if not, she is just tall and we go on about our merry way.
On Thursday, when I got the news, I was so scared, so worried. I knew that any abnormalities had to be my fault. I knew that I had fed her too much chicken, or at too much cereal when I was pregnant. Maybe it was that late term craving for Green Apple Slushies and Chili Cheese Tots every morning for breakfast. I had to get rid of the guilt, I had to know this (this, this whatever it is) was not my fault.
So I Googled.
I may have even Web M.D'd
I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW.
But I did it and now I can't unsee it and it makes me a very nervous momma. I also can't but feel like a bad momma when I ask people to pray that she stops growing. She cannot gain another inch this year. And I feel like an ass to say, "Hey, let's pray for my girl to stop growing" like it's some kind of inconvenience to me. I worry that she hears me on the phone talking about how she is too tall or that the doctor is concerned. I worry that she will start to think that something is really wrong with her. That she will become a hypochondriac like the daughter of a nurse that I once was.
I worry that she lose her self-confidence.
I am going to give that away now as well. I am going to spend the next six months not thinking about the fact that my 4 year old is in a size 13 shoe or size 7 clothing. I am going to try not to feel stabbed a little every time someone sees my daughter and the first thing they exclaim when they see her is "Oh, my goodness, she is SO big (or tall)" I am going to let the worry go and spend the next 6 months enjoying my HEALTHY, HAPPY, BEAUTIFUL little girl.
If something needs to be dealt with later, I will deal with it. Until then, I have a kid to grow.