Observational Selection Bias and Missing My Daughter

I heard a lot of questions this past week. As a staffer at my organization's biggest conference of the year, I spent six days in sunny Orlando answering queries about exhibit halls, bathroom locations, and dining options.

There was one question, though, that I heard more than any other: "Is it hard being away from your daughter?"

The answer was yes. Actually, no. The answer was YES!! I imagined it would be fairly difficult being away from Annabelle for the first time. This was, by far, my longest stretch without her so far. (Fortunately, other than her improved grasping skills (you can see her gripping/eating the blanket above), I didn't miss all that much.) But why did I miss her so much?

I've thought about that a lot over the past 24 hours. I came home, changed her, played with her, smiled at her, held her for a long time, and then things quickly returned to normal. I did the dishes, made dinner, fell asleep with my Kindle on my face, and now, as I sit here typing this, it's business as usual.

So why was it so damn hard for the past week? Why did it seem like seeing Annabelle (and Bridget) was the most important (and seemingly impossible) thing in the world?

The answer, I believe, is other people. And, more specifically, other babies. It seemed like they were around every corner and each one brought thoughts of Annabelle charging into my mind. I kept thinking, Where the hell did all these babies come from? Is there a pacifier convention? 

This morning, it all made sense: It was just observational selection bias at work.

Observational selection bias is when we suddenly start noticing things that we didn't before and wrongly assume the frequency has increased. Ever learn a new word and then hear that word in seemingly every conversation for the next week? Or buy a new car and then see ads for that car, like, all the time? That's observational selection bias.

Now that I have a daughter, I notice things I've never noticed before. Or, more correctly, I notice them in a different way. For example:

• Six months ago, when I saw a baby girl, I figured there was poop in her diaper and she was probably about to cry. Now, all babies seem to smile and laugh all the time. 
• Six months ago, when I heard a tragic story about a medical error and a young child, it was sad. Now, I feel like vomiting and try to pretend the tears are just dust in my eye. 
• Even little kids who I used to think were annoying because they couldn't sit still are now "curious," "exciting," and "adventurous."

There's no question that becoming a parent changes you. I guess it takes a trip away from your child to realize just how much ...