I'm a worrier. I get paid, in part, to worry and anticipate the worst. I also worry on my own time about dumb things like getting the laundry done and dust-bunnies under my bed. I worry about people liking me, smelling good, and whether my hair looks okay. I also worry about not-so-dumb things like bad stuff happening to people I love. I hate voicemails that just say, "hey, I've got something to tell you... call me." Between the moment I listen to the message and the minute you tell me that you found the perfect pair of boots to wear with your new jeans, I wonder, with a lump in my throat: "cancer?" "who died?" "fire burned down childhood home with family in it?" "wedding called off?" The list of absurd conclusions my mind jumps to goes on and on.
Anyways, if you've been pregnant or currently are pregnant, you might get where I'm going with this. For the first weeks of pregnancy, all you have is a stick with a pink line (or two) on it. Then you might have a horribly blurry ultrasound of a little bean with no distinguishable body parts. Then maybe, after a couple more weeks, you hear a heartbeat and the doctor doesn't tell you anything is wrong. But he also doesn't tell you that your child is going to be perfect, or healthy, or even that they're going to make it at all. Meanwhile, you feel sick all day long, pee every 40 minutes, and cry when your loving husband hugs too tight (you scream - "ouch, my boobs kill"). Yet, there is no bump, no movement, no outward sign that anything is different. If you're a worrier like me, you wonder constantly "is everything okay? is there really a baby in there?" With every cramp or twinge you wonder "am I having a miscarriage? is this normal?"
Well, I constantly worry about these and many other things related to our baby and my health. I know I'm pregnant and that so far, Sprout is just fine. I heard the heartbeat on Monday - rocking away at 150 beats/minute. I gained one pound. My pants are tight. I feel nauseous and have backne for the first time ever (both of which are an odd comfort to a worrier in this situation). I can feel my uterus a few inches below my belly button (and it feels weird). So, really, all is well. Yet, I still worry. I will continue to worry for the next 5.5 months, and then probably until the day I die, about this child. But, other than this blog post, you're probaby not going to know it. Because if I've learned anything in my 29 years of being a professional worrier, its how to hide it. This is me not worrying.