Awww...Baby's First EEG

Having a baby means lots of new experiences-getting pooped or puked or peed on, the first smile, the first seven-hour scream fest, etc. These new experiences are experiences to learn from or cherish or serve as reminders of why Baby will not be having any brothers or sisters. Ever.
A few weeks ago, an experience I'd dreaded ever since Husband and I even abstractly discussed having kids occurred. When we visited the pediatrician, I'd actually forgotten about the great potential for Baby to have to have an EEG, so when the doctor told us we needed to get one, and the sooner the better, all my old anxieties dropped in for an extended visit.
I had epilepsy as a child. Not the convulsing on the floor type of epilepsy, but the other kind, petit mal seizures. It wasn't a big deal, but it was embarrassing having to take medicine every day, and it was really fucking annoying when I was fourteen, and my mother wouldn't let me go on the Back to the Future ride at Universal Studios. I really didn't want to pass on these little inconveniences to my child, but then it appeared that maybe I did.
I was feeding Baby one Sunday morning, and he relaxed more and more as he ate his bottle. His entire body suddenly started shaking. "Baby," I said. "What are you doing?" He kept shaking. "Baby," I repeated, louder and more firmly. "What the hell are you doing?" He kept shaking, then stopped, glared at me, and finished his bottle.
When the same thing happened the next day, we called the pediatrician, and the told us to come in right away. This visit turned out to be our one non-negative experience with this practice so far. They got us an appointment with a neurologist and got us set up with an EEG the next day and told us not to worry. I worried. A lot. I felt guilty and blamed myself. I thought of all sorts of terrible things that could be wrong with my child, the least of which was mild epilepsy.
At the hospital the next day, I watched my child's brainwaves scroll across a computer screen and wished I knew right then what the squiggles and zigzags meant. The technician put an army green cap on his head, making him look like a little baby bomber pilot (Husband pointed out that similarity). All he needed was the leather jacket. I tried to hold him still as he twisted on the table and cried when the technician put the gel in his hair. Husband and I took turns holding him on the table and then holding his hand as he slept.
We had an angry baby on our hands when he woke up and the test wasn't over, and we had an angry baby on our hands in the neurologist's office the next day, as the doctor told us our child was perfectly fine, he didn't need to see him again, and anyway, he's a baby, so if he did have my kind of epilepsy we wouldn't know it, given the normal results of the EEG.
I was relieved.