I know I keep on posting these nervous Nancy rants but I can't seem to help myself. This blog has evolved into a place where I can vent about my worries and not feel so guilty that I am burdening people. I apologize in advance for this anxiety rant. If Terry was around maybe I would feel obligated to rant to him but since my time is limited to the phone I would rather not bother him with my anxiety. Besides, I think he has enough of his own.
Lizzy and I finished our childbirth classes on December 19th. The nurses told us then that I should pack my bag for the hospital. I refuse. I simply refuse. Every week I get email updates on what to expect and they keep on reminding me to pack my bag. Nope. I am sorry. I just can't. Not yet. Its too soon. I am still living out of duffel bags at Michaels. If I were to pack a bag where would I keep it exactly, at home, at Michaels, in my car? I feel like it is becoming some kind of inner struggle. That if I pack my bag I will have to come to terms with having to actually go to the hospital and all the it entails. I worked up the courage yesterday to print off a list of things to pack. I thought it was a step in the right direction. I know I am going to have to face the reality eventually but I can totally put it off for the next few weeks. Cross my legs.
I have been having a lot of trouble sleeping. It is a combination of not being able to get comfortable and then once awake my mind starts reeling. I also can't make it through the night without going to the bathroom at least once. Bean is leaning directly onto my bladder pretty much all the time now. My bladder must be about the size of a pea, I kid you not. Anyway, I tend to have very unrealistic worries when I am up late at night. Like maybe he has 12 arms, which clearly he doesn't because I have seen his sonograms. Or what happens if I don't know I am in labor, which I will know at some point I am positive. A big one lately has been falling. I keep worrying that I am going to fall on my belly and that he will stop moving. Stillborn, just writing the word makes me shiver. God forbid. I pray all the time that he will be safe. That I can keep him safe for the next few weeks. He is still really active. I find myself breathing easier when he is moving just because I know he is OK. Even if his moving is really annoying. I relish it.
Breast feeding is another whole ball of worries. Like will I actually be able to do this? Will I inexplicably find my modesty and be unable to whip them out in public? (Doubtful) It has been a difficult transition in my mind. I mean, honestly, what have my boobs been useful for before now? Suddenly they have been catapulted into importance and will be used to sustain another person. Crazy!!
I know that most of the time when I am nervous about something it never ends up to be as traumatic as I anticipated it to be. The monster under my bed is far more terrifying in my head then if I met him face to face. However, that usually doesn't stop me for worrying. I am assuming that my worrying is not going to stop when he is born either. This child is going to bring another lifetime of worrying. I guess that is what they call motherhood.
2 comments:
dear sweet Kate, There is nothing I can do for you to keep you from worrying , the only advice I can give is listen to music and try to visualize holding that beautiful boy in your arms and rocking,even if for now you just cradle your belly and rock. Sing him and yourself to sleep and continue to think of the miracle that awaits you. Positive visualization is a powerful thing if you can concentrate on that and scare the boogeymen away. they even make cd's of that stuff that might be helpful. keep praying as we also pray for you, Terry and the bean. And try to have sweet dreams! Love to you, Auntie De
P.S. It's perfectly normal to have those worries! love, auntie de
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