Rescuing Julia Twice by Tina Traster

Author:Tina Traster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chicago Review Press
Published: 2014-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

Three days later I arrive at Dr. Traister’s office. I gave Anna the morning off so I could take Julia for her third well-visit. So far the doctor’s been pleased with her progress. Dr. Michael Traister specializes in treating foreign-adopted children. He recommends a second round of vaccines when they come home because he doesn’t trust the ones they’ve received in Russia. He knows to look for low muscle tone and aberrant neurological symptoms that might have gone undetected. He knows children with fetal alcohol syndrome don’t always show signs of mental disorder right away. He’s been very enthusiastic about Julia’s progress. She walked at a year, started forming words a month later, is solid and strong.

“How’s her eating?” he says, glancing over his bifocals to read her chart.

“She’s on a fully organic, whole-foods, non-meat diet,” I say.

“Meaning?”

“Fruits, veggies, grains, eggs, lots of yogurt, everything organic. But no cow’s milk.”

“Okay, that’s good. She’s actually in the 95th percentile for her weight. But that’s because she’s small.”

“Her birth mother isn’t even five feet,” I say.

“Right, I understand. I’m not too worried about her weight now, though it may be an issue later on. But she looks great. You’re doing a good job.”

Those words are as comforting as his assessment on Julia’s progress.

Dr. Traister is one of the godsends that have come along with my entry into motherhood. When someone first recommended him, I thought he and I, who have practically the same last name—an unusual name—could be related. The doctor and I tried to find common ancestors as we are both from Brooklyn, but we couldn’t make the link. While that might be so, I feel as though this wiry-haired, jeans-wearing, Gene Wilder look-alike, could well be kin. He’s familiar. And best of all, he’s relaxed and conservative in his approach to medicine. When I was a child, we made ritualistic pilgrimages to the pediatrician for every cough, sniffle, and ache. We were over-medicated. It was either that my mother was neurotically fearful about health or that she had a wicked crush on Dr. Kane. Over the years I’ve receded from the notion that doctors are gods and have replaced it with the idea that the human body is a machine that has the power to heal and regenerate. I steer clear of intervention unless it’s truly necessary. I plan to raise Julia this way, and Dr. Traister, as I’ve said, is a godsend.

“Okay, you can dress her. Make an appointment in six months, and we’ll talk about vaccines,” he says.

“Great, thanks,” I say, turning to pull Julia’s sweater over her head. I hesitate. “Dr. Trais … ”

“Yes,” he says, poking his head around the reopened door.

“Sorry, I know you have another appointment, but I did have one more question.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“How do I know if Julia is okay, you know, mentally?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that, I can’t explain this exactly, but sometimes, no, well, most of the time, it’s like she’s there but she’s not there.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.