Journey from A to B

Today was one of those days when I don’t think I’m cut out for this parenting thing, and the idea of having a second child is so daunting and terrifying, it seems like the worst idea in the world. Then, of course, I feel horribly guilty because of what happened, and then I berate myself for thinking that way, because of course, I want another child, of course.

But today, oh, today. And yesterday, really. We have an exhausted toddler who refuses to nap, either because she’s going through some kind of MIND EXPLOSION or she’s stubborn or … I don’t know what. I’d say she’s giving up naps except that she’s miserable and exhausted for the rest of the day, passes out somewhere inappropriate later, and then pulls the same screaming stunt at bedtime. By the second day of this, I was greeting Adam at the door in tears — something I’ve never done, not even when Sam was a screaming newborn who refused to close her eyes.

This is usually the time when people like to share how THEIR two-year-old gave up naps, and how it’s totally a possibility! And ho! Good luck to you! And usually I can take those kinds of comments, but this week, I’m just not really in a mental place to be able to hack it without going postal. Advance apologies.

***

I’ve been out of sorts for a little while now, as a close family member is having surgery, and though everything is okay, it’s one of those THINGS that they found by sheer luck, and if they hadn’t found it, things would have been Very Very Bad. As it stands, everything is — and will be — fine, but you know, it’s just … oh, man, I don’t know. My anxiety always comes out in hypochondria, usually by proxy, and it took me a while to nail down exactly why I was feeling so awful these last few days. I hate worrying about people I love, and worse, that just makes me worry about everyone else even more, as though it’s protective.

Poor Adam, in other words. (Sam is immune, saved only by her youth.) By Friday, I’ll have him in the doctor’s for bloodwork, and he’ll be on a special diet by the weekend. Oh, and dentist appointments. Must get the dentist appointments taken care of, because periodontal disease causes heart attacks! Sometimes …

I joke about it, but it’s not that far from the truth. I hate this about myself, and I never really know how to make it better. I do know that staying up late wondering if I have enough life insurance really isn’t the best solution. I am hopeful that once the surgery is successful and over, I will relax a little. Because, man.

***

Speaking of worst-case scenarios, I have several friends who are newly pregnant right now, and I find myself seized with anxiety for them, too. It manifests itself in a funny way, in that I am constantly worried that they don’t know that really, it could happen to them, so they must be ever-vigilant. This makes no sense, and merely serves to underscore my hypochondria-by-proxy and my general anxiety about everything and everyone. Because, I think, even though I knew it could happen to me, I really didn’t believe that it would.

(Side note: this was reinforced by the fact that I saw the heartbeat and people were crowing, “Dramatically reduced risk!” when in fact, according to my doctor who wrote the book on miscarriage — no really, he did! — that apparently isn’t true until you see the heartbeat after ten weeks. Helpful! Or not, really.)

Not that knowing it would or could would have changed anything about how I felt, but I want to somehow change the outcome for other people, or at least their approach to it. This, like everything of its ilk, is impossible and not helpful at all.

**

Speaking of pregnancy, I am afraid to try again. I know I said I wasn’t, and on the one hand, I’m not — I could do another miscarriage and get back up again. I could. It’s just that the miscarriage set off a wave of unfortunate events — death! surgery! marriages ending! — to people I love, and I am irrationally afraid of being the tipping point for another tsunami. I know it was just a coincidence and most of it happened before the year of the rabbit anyway (apparently it’s our year!), but I just … well, it’s something I have to get over, clearly.

I know this is all very maudlin, but it helps me a lot to write it out — sometimes, after writing it all down and walking away and/or talking to some of you about it, I feel better immediately. I’m hoping that’s the case here.

I hope you have a great Tuesday.

*Badly Drawn Boy

44 comments March 21st, 2011