It's no secret. I worry. I worry a lot. Also? I'm a big what-if-er.
I think I've always been a worrier. When I was a little girl, I used to pray hard every night before bed that my parents wouldn't die. Morbid, no? As I got older my worries were typical for my age. Would I ever get a boyfriend? (I did.) Will my skin ever clear up? (It did. Thank you, Proactiv.) What if I don't get into my first choice for college? (I did.) What if I DO? (I hated it.) What am I supposed to do with the rest of my life? (Still trying to figure that one out.) Am I marrying the right guy? (Pretty sure I did.)
Peanut butter just made me gag. Last time that happened was when I was pregnant with Savannah. Those damn tests better have been accurate!
But I digress.
Where was I? Ah yes. Worrying. An art form I've perfected. My worrying didn't hit OCD levels, though, until I had a pulmonary embolism 5 years ago. Then it hit a high, and drugs and CBT didn't do a damn thing for it.
I have a mysterious health issue right now. It scares me. I sought out a new neurologist, and was directed to a man who appears to be the best, in the best practice. I only wish I started out with him. He seems to have an idea of what may be going on. He's running extensive tests - bloodwork and MRIs of the head and spine. Where the other neurologist was only hearing "headaches" and automatically jumped to the conclusion of migraines, this man took nearly 2 hours on our first visit going over my total health history and wanted to know every nook and cranny of my current symptoms. At the end of our visit, he took my hand in his, looked me in the eye, and said, "I don't want you to worry. We'll figure this out." He's got a few suspicions of what this all might be, and while it wouldn't be great news, I am beyond confident that this doctor will take care of me and help me to live a long and healthy life, long enough to hopefully see my babies have babies.
What about when it comes to your babies, though? When is it okay to worry? How much worry is okay? My Nat? He's tired. He's tired a lot, despite his solid night's sleep and 3-4 hour nap. He occasionally has swollen lymph nodes in his neck. We've had him checked by his doctor who wasn't concerned at the time but wanted to keep an eye on him to make sure they don't change. But it's hard for me not to go....there. I know that growing is a tiresome process. Kids get tired. But I know what excessive tiredness and swollen nodes could mean, and it's hard for me not to get into a panic. Hubs gets annoyed with my worries and then makes "promises" that things will be okay. I'd go on, but he reads this blog and I don't have the energy to fight. But it's on blah days like this, though, that I wish I had some real-live girlfriends to sit and chat with, to cry with for a few minutes, and then help me put my happy face on and pretend like I don't have a worry in the world. I've gotten pretty good at doing that lately.
I hope I don't pass my worries onto my children. I'd never forgive myself.