Exactly four months ago today she was born.
And as it goes with babies, this feels like both yesterday and forever ago.
In the chaos of family life, time has stolen away my newborn.
Time is unkind, not least of all because of things I can never seem to fit within it's rigid framework.
Yesterday I took Harlow to her check-up with the maternal and child health nurse. While there, we discussed the uneven leg creases that the nurse noted last time, the creases she indicated can be linked to hip issues, the creases she told me to get checked out by my GP.
I had not been to the GP to check out those creases. Two months had passed since I was told to do so.
She also noted Harlow's inability to bear much weight on her legs. This was often linked to babies whose mothers had a vitamin deficiency in pregnancy, but was helped tremendously by giving the baby Pentavite for the first year of life. Was I deficient in vitamin D during my pregnancy? Were we advised to give Harlow a vitamin supplement from birth? Had we been doing this?
My answers; yes, yes and yes. I was lying about the last one.
Four short months of life and already I have dropped the ball on two important health issues.
There is no good reason for either except that time steals away all my best intentions and I'm tired and I'm forgetful and I'm sorry.
Except that sorry means fuck all if Harlow's hips are uneven and it sure as hell won't bring back the two months I wasted when she could have been wearing a brace to fix it.
I rushed home to book an appointment with the GP and to give Harlow some Pentavite (full bottle we've had for four months, due to expire in two weeks), and for good measure, I popped her on her belly for some tummy time because I am fucking hopeless at doing that, too.
Today I took Harlow for an ultrasound on her hips.
They are fine.
I can't help feeling like the luckiest fuck-up alive.