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I love you too. Now, go jump on your dad.

the first real scare (or attack of mommy paranoia )

on August 28, 2012

With all the changes that my body is going through: the aches, the nausea (no matter how subtle), the inability to stay awake much longer than what constitutes a full work day, etc… one of the most unexpected things this pregnancy has given me is a case of very intense sneezing fits. I am sneezing all the time, and ironically they tend to show up in pairs. I don’t know, but it’s weird. I am fully aware of the fact that this is probably in no way related to the babies, but it seemed to start right along with the growing of their placentas.  Late last week, I was in the car, having one of my attacks, when Drew looked at me with a combination of utter fear and overwhelming concern.

Me: What’s wrong?

Drew: (concern still plastered across his face) Do you clench when you do that?

Me: When I do what? Sneeze? (confusion very obviously my primary emotion, but concern beginning to grow on my face because he was no longer watching the road)

Me: Would that make you feel better?

Drew: Yes! What if you let out a really big sneeze and one of them were to just fall out? (eyes wide)

Me: It does feel a little weird down there sometime (I shamefully admitted with a chuckle).

Drew: I think you should start clenching (he stated so matter-of-factly)

Me: You mean like Kegels for sneezing?

Drew: Yeah, I guess.

Me: I don’t think sneezing will cause me to shoot them out like BBs? There is a mucus plug and all kinds of stuff keeping them up in there.

Drew: I’m just saying, mucus plugs can fail, and better safe than sorry.

Now, before I go on any further, I need to clarify one thing: Andrew is a very intelligent man, and despite all the anecdotal evidence that would work to prove otherwise,  he isn’t a complete dunce. In fact, he manages to keep me flirting with my own sanity even in those moments when my entire ability to rationalize seems to have gone by the wayside. He uses his big words and comforting intellect to sooth me back to my senses when I begin to avoid things like pooping out of fear that his clenching, failed mucus plug theory may actually hold some water. He is also very good at helping me through those more real moments of discontent, like when the fear of a miscarriage becomes overwhelming, even if improbable.

We had just gotten to Drew’s parents’ house after going to the store with his mom and brother to look at cribs and other baby essentials that we priced for two. It was fun, and the whole idea of twins began to mesh well with the small amount of confidence we had begun to feel about actually be able to survive affording them. I came into the house, grabbed something to drink, and plopped down on the couch for about ten minutes before my bladder beckoned me to the restroom. It was at this time that my mood changed dramatically.

From the beginning, I have been aware of the fact that a small amount of spotting is a normal thing, especially in the first trimester, but what I was faced with was much more than I had experience in the past or ever anticipated. In retrospect, it wasn’t that much, but being a first time mom, having the knowledge that carrying twins runs a higher risk of complications, and my mother having miscarried two sets of twins in the past, it felt that I face to face with a worst case scenario. My mother-in-law told me just to lay down and put my feet up and that I would be fine. I did what she instructed, but my mind still raced, full of all those “what-ifs.” Yes, the amount of spotting was heavier and warranted some additional precautions, along with a call to my ob/gyn, but even then I felt I was overreacting, but was unable to calm myself free from tears. Drew, and his incredible ability to understand that I understand when I am acting irrational, but that at times I’m still incapable of doing anything about it, talked me out of my funk, sat next to me running his fingers through my hair, and just let me cry until I started making inappropriate jokes and began laughing.

Once we got home, and I read everything I could find on the internet (by far the absolute worst thing I could have done), and it seemed as if little to no progress had been made in the spotting department, my nerves again took hold of me and I began to worry some more. Drew was ready to throw me over his shoulder (if that’s what it took) and take me to the emergency room in order to get me the answers that I felt I needed. He then remembered I have insurance, and there is a 24 hour phone number for people to call as a way of avoiding unnecessary ER visits. Usually I would have made him call (in fact I tried to pawn it off on him), but I was the one that had to suck it up and dial.

When I got the voice on the other end, I started talking about everything I was experiencing, explaining color and consistency and duration and about all my concerns. He then informed me that he was the operator and would transfer me to the appropriate extension. I was was horrified that I just divulged so many intimate details to someone who could have been the 4th floor custodian for all I know, and I began to cry even more. Drew just laughed and hugged me.

Drew: You crying ’cause you’re a little embarrassed?

Me: (incomprehensible noun sounds) Yeah…

Ultimately, I spoke to a doctor and all my fears were alleviated. She made me feel like less of a insane mess and more like a worried momma. I felt like a mental mess of a woman, because according to what she was saying would constitute a miscarriage, I wasn’t experiencing anything at all. We talked about blood type and about the polyp I have on my uterus and she assured me that, so long as it didn’t continue, I would be fine. She also told me not to read things on the internet because that will only make me think the worst. I laughed and agreed to steer clear.

Though I look back on the whole ordeal and can’t help but think that I acted like a complete wreck, I understand the importance of having acted like, well an idiot. Better to be paranoid about a little blood then to act with complete avoidance that there was anything wrong at all. Ultimately, it was good. I allowed me the freak out that I needed and it gave Drew the opportunity to do what he does best: make me feel safe.

He is definitely going to be a great dad.




3 responses to “the first real scare (or attack of mommy paranoia )

  1. Ang says:

    Stay away from the internet, mom. Pregnancy seems to have turned you into me. Hypochondria is a hard life, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially not my god…sister?? Godwife?? Stay relaxed for the babies! I love your blog. Is it for everyone? I hope so. I am going to plug it on my fb.

  2. jenilynnn says:

    I love you so effing much! Thank you for all the support, and the babies thank you too.

  3. marci says:

    Awesome post and great writing. I learned alot from this. Hang tough mommy.

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