Six weeks pregnant today, well, yesterday I guess since it’s now 2:38am on January 5th. I’ve been dealing with a lot of anxiety. What a funny word, “anxiety.” Makes it sound like what I’m feeling is supposed to fit inside of a perfect little box. The box on the shelf with the tidy label clearly reading “anxiety.” What I’m feeling is nothing like anything I’ve ever experienced.
Irrational fears plague me when I wake up. “What if I’m not really pregnant?” My heart starts racing, my hormones start raging and I run to the bathroom to take yet another pregnancy test which, of course, still radiates the positive stripe.
I get out of the warm, relaxing shower after practicing deep breathing and rubbing my not-yet-protruding tummy falling in love with my sweet pea sized embryo... and I feel a sudden rush of “anxiety”--if that’s what you want to call it. The racing heart, the irrational fears, the intense need to cry and sleep and run all at the same time. It’s just plain awful.
We went to the doctor today to have the pregnancy “confirmed.” I peed in a cup, again. It was positive. Again. The doctor confidently confirmed my pregnancy and wrote me a prescription for Zoloft after I talked about my “anxiety.” She also taught me a deep breathing technique that I used in the car the entire way to work because, for some reason, going to work makes me so nervous that I want to run and cry and sleep all at the same time. But, as soon as I get to work, I feel fine and I like being here. Whatever.
Jess is amazing. He spent my nap time today, or yesterday rather, calling Good Samaritan hospital and neighboring women’s clinics to help find me the right midwife. I wonder how shocked the nurses that he spoke with were to hear from a man calling on behalf of his wife. What man does that? None but mine, I bet. Then he woke me up promptly at 5pm to take me for the walk I wanted to go on. He has always hated (I think) going for walks but since he found out I was pregnant, he goes for walks with me at 7:45am when I get home from work, at 11:30pm when I just can’t stand being in the house anymore, or at 5pm right before work. What an amazing man I’m married to.
They say (whoever “they” are) that you start feeling bloated in the 6th week of pregnancy. What an understatement. I swear my belly grew an inch straight out today as soon as it realized that it hit the six week mark. Six weeks, time to grow.
I can’t wait to sleep. I’m so ready to be done with night shift. Six more shifts. Tomorrow, Thursday, Monday, Tuesday, Friday and Saturday. I can do it but I’m so ready to sleep at night. This baby needs sleep at night.
More later.
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