Parenting Journals

By Jill Applebaum

The beautiful thing about the birthing process is that we control very little of it. Your water will break when it breaks. Your Anesthesiologist will get there when he gets there.

When it came time to hiring a nanny; however, the decision fell on me and I was betrayed by my own instincts. Twelve weeks into my daughter’s life, I was heading back to work. Breast pump in hand, I kissed my girl and swallowed the inevitable tears that come with feeling like a new person attempting to fit into an out-moded life.

I wondered how our nanny would handle The Witching Hour. My daughter was often difficult to soothe. It reached a crescendo toward the day’s end. We’d swaddle her and rock rhythmically in her glider until it passed. The Witching Hour was excruciating even to those who loved her most.

Five months into our relationship, our nanny called my office.

“She woke up with strange marks near her eye. I thought you should know,” she reported.

We went straight to the doctor. He called it patekei and wasn’t sure how an infant could wake up that way. He used the words “nefarious behavior on the part of your nanny.” My husband and I were sent directly to Child Protective Services at Belleview Hospital. The Director examined our daughter.

“It’s a skin abrasion,” she said. “Probably from spitting up and then rubbing into it”
Deep sighs all around.
“Should we get a nanny cam as our pediatrician suggested?” we asked.
“I wouldn’t recommend it. Eighty-five percent of people with cameras end up firing their nannies over nothing.”

We left with cathartic relief. From the taxi, we called our pediatrician to share the good news.
“I heard,” he said. Protective Services had already contacted him.
“ I would still get a nanny cam,” he said plainly.

We were angry. He sent us to doctors who specialize in recognizing signs of abuse. They said it was nothing and he wasn’t letting up.

Since you can’t be too careful, we visited the Spy Store. New York really does have everything. We hooked up a makeshift nanny cam and watched it nightly for several months. We were disappointed at their lack of interaction. Our baby spent most of her time in her swing while our nanny searched the internet. This is what Protective Services warned us about. Get a nanny cam and we will end up firing her over nothing. Friends reassured us that if the baby seems content, all is well. We let it go.

One night my husband and I worked late. It was the only night we had our nanny stay and put our daughter to sleep. My husband arrived home first. She mentioned that we might see marks on our daughter’s wrists because the baby stood and lost her balance. The nanny caught her.

My husband peeked into the crib. Our daughter awoke and began to scream uncontrollably. He couldn’t calm her down. The marks on her wrists were perfect squares. They clearly weren’t from human hands. We watched the tape. The baby was crying. The nanny threw her on the bed yelling, “SHUT THE F— UP.” The nanny stuffed our daughter’s onesie into her mouth in an attempt to stifle her. Our baby frantically kicked her feet. The nanny bit our daughter on the back of the neck and then searched for a mark beneath her hairline.

The next morning, I got my daughter out of the house as my husband fired the nanny. He told her there are marks and we can’t take chances. “I love your daughter,” she pleaded.

We then had to put our 8-month old under anesthesia for an MRI to ensure that she hadn’t been shaken. We had every bone in her body x-rayed to determine if there were hairline fractures. Fortunately, the tests all turned out fine.

We faced the decision about whether or not to take this through the legal system. Belleview pressured us to do so but even they admitted it was a big ball to set in motion. This unstable woman knows where we live and what our daughter looks like. Our new nanny, should we ever have the courage to hire one, wouldn’t see her coming.

In the end, we chose the security of our family over strangers’. We did nothing. Judge as you will.

Our daughter is now a magnificent 3-year-old. She is Smart, creative and perpetually cheerful. Anyone could see that she is unscarred by her early months. I’m not sure that I would say the same about myself.

I can’t look at photographs of her from that span of time. An outsider would see a cherub with rosy cheeks and a bright smile, but can’t help but I wonder what my little girl endured that day when I couldn’t be there.

I occasionally wonder how this will shape her. New mothers agonize over what color to paint the nursery, believing even the tiniest detail carries significance. I believe that every experience contributes to the person we become. Perhaps it will manifest itself in a positive way. One day she may not trust someone who is untrustworthy.

I learned early on in my daughter’s life what every parent eventually learns. I can promise to protect her with every ounce of me, but I can’t promise that I’ll always do a perfect job.

Author Bio: Jill Applebaum is an advertising writer. She does the precarious work/life balance is happiest when she has play doh under her fingernails. She can be reached at jillianapplebaum@yahoo.com.