This week my boss's wife had a baby. A little girl. I was happy for them and excited for me. I realized that will be me in a few more months.
And that started my emotional downfall. Oh no. A little bit of faith. Actually letting myself think about a take home baby. Time to start sabotaging my happiness. First it was weird (explainable) discharge. Then a phone call to the OB office. A great conversation with one of the doctors saying if I'm not bleeding/crampy/feeling pressure it's all good.
Okay, I'm not feeling any of those things. Or am I? What's that pain? Is my discharge a little darker than usual? Would I call that a light brown?! That could be old blood! Oh God my stomach is hard. Braxton Hicks??!?!?! And did I always have that pressure feeling in my groin!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
Yes, that's right. The pure act of letting myself feel even for a second that this pregnancy will result in a baby caused me to forget what it felt like to be pregnant the day before. Every sensation was new and scary.
I knew it was all in my head. Everything could be justified. But the panic...the TERROR just built. So I went to my OB's office today. The receptionist asked me my symptoms. I told her they were all in my head. I just needed someone to tell me it was all going to be okay. The receptionist was so cool. Though I was crying she told me don't worry about it. It's my right to come here and get checked out whenever I needed it. She even came to check on me after my appointment was over.
Next I see the nurse practitioner. Another awesome lady who did a swab, blood pressure, weight and after hearing why I was there told me I needed to find a way to cope with the anxiety. Therapy/prenatal yoga were a few suggestions. I said I knew logically things were find, but I asked if I could still get an Ultrasound. She said I could get one whenever I wanted.
My two fears were low fluid and a shortening cervix. We immediately saw Bea's heartbeat. She's so cute. Over a pound now and "above average" (what a proud mom I am). The fluid was fine. Next stop the cervix. It has always been about a 4 and I was so scared it would be much shorter. Instead it had grown. It was now almost 5.
Proof. Proof that everything was alright. But honestly when has there ever been a moment in this pregnancy where an u/s should anything but a perfect Bea? And yet I still get scared.
So we have the final conversation with the nurse and she tells me more often than not things turn out fine. She's seen heroin addicts have healthy babies. Our bodies were designed for this. Things will be okay. And I listened. And I believed. She said I should be enjoying this time. Not wasting it. I totally agree. Then the kicker. She said if I'm like this now how will I be when there is a baby.
This got to me because I always assumed this was a pregnancy thing with me. I'm not one of those super anxious girls. I'm not a hypochondriac or anything like that. This is the first time I've ever felt this out of control. But what if it's not just about pregnancy? What if it bleeds into my parenting? I don't want to live like this.
So I'm going to try extra hard. We're going to buy the furniture and paint the nursery and why shouldn't we? We having a baby.