How Are You Doing?

I've always wondered at this question. In most cases, people don't wait for a response. If you walk by someone in the hallway, you say "How are you?" they'll walk by and say "Hi."

In our case, people stare you in the eye and ask intentionally and deeply, sometimes holding your forearm: How are you doing?

We're doing ok. Zoe is doing really well. In the past week we've had two separate things that may be future problems but did not continue. In one case, we noticed blood in her diapers which concerned us. Dr. Estill examined Zoe at length and determined that it wasn't anything internal like liver damage. She recommended moving to a soy-based formula.

I didn't tell you all then, but Jen and I both had a long night that night before the Doctor's visit. You wrestle with so much. As much peace and joy as we've experienced in the midst of this trial, there is nothing I can compare to the distress you feel as a parent when a) you notice something wrong and b) think that something is the beginning of the end.

I describe it like concentric circles of spiritual and psychological existence...where in the largest circle, I know my Redeemer lives. And so I know Zoe is fine, no matter what. And I know now what friends are, and family is, and how much Avicom means to me. Relationships I thought were dead, dormant, or uncertain were none of the above.

In the center circle is this little girl and nothing can negate the parental distress you encounter when something happens to her. And in that circle there's no level of preparation we can achieve.
Yesterday, Zoe spit up three consecutive bottles. We went through the above gauntlet of emotion. I think it's a sinful but successful part of me that wants to be ready for the next thing. In this case, you don't want to to consider the next thing. A battle ensues.

We switched to bottled water for the formula. She kept them down. She's eating. And eating. And eating. She's like Kobayashi of soy formula. I think she's trying to set a record.

So last night, we were up most of the night, but in this case, it's the same reason my friend and co-worker McKenna was up. We have a newborn and she wants to eat. And eat. I retreat from the most anxious of circles.