Confessions of a Monitor Junkie

For a month in the NICU, I was Pavlov's dog. Every alarm had me snapping to attention. High-pitched beep? Oxygen. Long monotone? Heart rate.

The maddening part? I needed those beeps. They were proof she was alive, that someone was watching. Without them, how would I know she was still breathing? What kind of monster parent doesn't continuously monitor their baby's vitals?!

So when we got discharged, I did what every anxious NICU parent does: I bought an Owlet. Everyone told me not to. "It'll make your anxiety worse," they said. "You need to trust yourself," they said. I put that sock on her foot like my life depended on it.

For the first week home, I watched that app constantly. Green light, oxygen good, heart rate normal- okay, I can breathe now. It was my security blanket, my proof that yes, I actually could tell when she was okay.

The funny thing about anxiety crutches? Eventually, you forget to use them. After a week or two, I started getting lazy about putting the sock on. Not because I suddenly stopped worrying but because somewhere along the way, I realized I'd started trusting myself.

I still have the Owlet for days where I worry. Do what you need to- don't let judgement hold you back from sanity.