I am a worrier. I have been since I can remember. I was the little girl who HATED being babysat because I was sure something would happen to my parents while they were away. Elementary school was dreadful because I was so worried that while I was away from my mom and dad, something terrible would happen. I constantly feared news of car wrecks, fires, injuries, etc. even if it was to complete strangers. The very simplest of things could trigger my worry and overtake my thoughts for the rest of the day.
How I’m not full of ulcers is beyond me.
When I got married, it just added another bunch of people for me to worry sickly about. Now I had my parents and my sisters, but also my husband and his family. And now I have this Baby Boy to worry about. Oh, heaven help me.
Wild Man (my husband) is very adventurous and an avid outdoorsman. I think he’d live in the mountains if he could. He loves to hike, camp, mountain bike, fish and every other outdoor thing (besides hunt, thank goodness). Ohhh the severe worry this has caused me. Every trip or outing he goes on fills me with fear. I know he is a smart guy and he knows how much trouble he’d be in if he’s not safe, but it doesn’t stop the worry from overtaking me the whole time he is gone. Pretty much the worry starts the second he leaves my site and it doesn’t subside until he’s back with me. (Man, do I sound clingy/needy/annoying, or WHAT?)
This past weekend my husband went to Moab with some family and friends to do some mountain biking.
…and I’ve never felt more flat out, panic-stricken WORRY.
I’m 34.5 weeks pregnant.
That is why this is a whole new kind of worry. A whole new kind of anxiety that eats at me.
Basically 5 weeks away from the due date.
Thats what kept running through my mind the whole time he was gone. I know 34.5 weeks is a bit early to have a baby, but its certainly not impossible. And Braxton Hicks Contractions are terrifying because you never know if this time its the real thing! Plus, Baby Boy has been measuring big so that only upped the freak outs. Five and a half weeks early… I’m sure babies are born at this point all the time. And heaven help me if my husband wasn’t there for the birth of our first child. I don’t just want him to be there, I NEED him to be there. I keep talking to Baby Boy and telling him to pretty, pretty, pretty please stay in my belly. If he had to come early, come Saturday night so daddy could be there, but preferably, just stay cooking for a few more weeks. Please, please, please, puh-leeeeeese!
You can only imagine the amount of times I prayed and prayed hard. I’d remind myself that my husband told me he’d pray that Baby Boy would stay in, too. I begged for faith and cried gallons of tears leading up to this.
I had a constant pit in my stomach and never let my phone out of my sight. I felt sick (& I don’t think it was pregnancy related, for once), and I had to actively keep track of my thoughts so they didn’t start going to scary places, picturing horrible things.
Thats what being a worrier feels like. It feels like crap. Its horrid and I hate it. Being a worrier stinks, but its a whole different kind of UGH when you also are battling crazy, unpredictable pregnancy hormones and wacked out emotions on top of it.
But goodness… It sure makes you feel really grateful when finally its confirmed that your worst fears didn’t happen. For example: when my husband got home safely today and didn’t miss the birth of our obedient son who listened to our advice and stayed cooking. ;;hallelujah:: My prayers were heard and answered, my faith was strengthened and the weight on my shoulders got a little bit lighter.
Good to have you back home, buddy.
Now if only I could be sure I wasn’t going to worry/panic/flip out/cry/over-stress next time… But lets be real – I’m just not to that point in my life, yet. Yet.
“You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” -Christopher Robin (Winnie the Pooh)