Too peanutty?

There are so many things to consider when pregnant. It's easy to avoid the obvious dangers -- the ones everyone tells you about, like changing cat litter (for fear of toxoplasmosis) and drinking alcohol. Every now and again I come across something that I haven't considered, though... and it totally freaks me out.

Not long ago, I was reading about various prenatal exercises in a booklet that the insurance company sent. One cheerful little bullet point warned that I should avoid doing crunches, because (of course) lying on my back would deprive the baby of oxygen. WHAT? But... EVERY NIGHT I lie on my back to read before going to sleep! Had I -- at the very least -- made the baby dumber?

Further research has led me to believe that no, we're fine -- but later on in the pregnancy I should stay on my side, for both our sakes. The Sprout's just not that unwieldy yet. OK, that's a relief...

Then there was the toothpaste incident. In my defense, not only was I half asleep, I was also catching a cold. Here, it's salt -- have a grain. Anyway, I was up in the middle of the night because I was huuuungry. I decided to brush my teeth after my snack, rinsed out my mouth and -- I think -- swallowed some toothpaste foam. Hm. Well, I had the internet at my disposal, so I decided to see if that would be a problem for Sprout.

Oops. It turns out that the fluoride toothpaste debate is ongoing and rabid. Fluoride is a neurotoxin (eep!), and whether it should be used at all by pregnant women or young children is under scrutiny (possibly crackpot scrutiny, but I couldn't tell at that time of night). Oh dear. I had, once again, probably made the baby dumber.

The next day, I remembered that I had access to a 24-hour nurse hotline. The nice RN looked into things for me. Once again, no damage done. Sigh.

The thing is, I'm not like this. All on my own, I'm perfectly willing to take risks -- even with toxic chemicals (mercury in fish, anyone?). My usual approach is that I'm certainly not going to live forever, and I'd like to enjoy my sushi in the meantime. Now that I'm sharing space, though, making decisions for two of us, I find myself being almost freakishly cautious. (Alright, scratch the 'almost.' I had Matt smell the peanut butter the other night because I thought it smelled too... peanutty.)

It's strange, and novel, and probably only the beginning of the strange and novel shifts in how I'll approach the world as a parent. I just hope someone is always on hand to douse me with a nice, cold bucket of common sense.

Or just to smell the peanut butter.