Z and I knew this pregnancy would be different and difficult for both of us emotionally. But I think we were both a little naïve concerning how hard it would be. Maybe we’ll feel more secure once we get out of the first trimester. Honestly it’s hard to use language like that. In my head it’s always “if”, never “once”. I wish we had a fast forward button.
On the way to the doctor’s on Monday I was absolutely freaking out. The spotting this weekend was so frightening and terrible, but knowing I’d find out for sure if the baby was still with us in the next few minutes was scaring the shit out of me. I was talking to Z about how I didn’t think I could emotionally cope with losing the baby. Without skipping a beat, I started talking about how worried I was about how much he had on his plate. Classes were starting the next day; he is busy enough without dealing with my anxiety problems. I was worried the day would come when he was so frustrated he couldn’t cope with it all.
“Wait, wait a second,” he said, “You just went from being worried about the pregnancy to us getting a divorce in a minute. Cut it out.”
He was right. I was being totally ridiculous. But that is what anxiety is. Everything seems to be the worst it could possibly be. And while it was the first time I’d brought it up to him, I’d been thinking about how my heightened anxiety is a burden to him since it started to get bad the week before. I’m just so scared by how awful I feel, it really hasn’t been like this since I was in the throes of my illness years ago. And one of my biggest fears was that Z didn’t love me and that he was moments away from leaving me. Of course, my insistence on those fantasies almost led them to be true. The fact I’m even starting to go back there sucks.
That, along with my elevated blood pressure at the doctor’s appointment on Thursday, and the multi-day anxiety attacks made me think long and hard about a daily medication to manage my anxiety. My therapist has been telling me she thinks a daily med is the right way to go for months and I have stubbornly said no. It’s shameful to admit, but the main reason is my pride. I just can’t handle the Zoloft weight gain. I certainly haven’t lost nearly all the weight from the last time. I hate my physicality so much that I can’t bear for it to get worse. The other reasons include not wanting all my emotions dulled, not wanting my sex drive destroyed, wanting to fully be there for T and Z. And my chill pills were working.
But when I brought up the meds today she suggested trying other methods first. Frankly, it was kind of a relief. Though I’m personally not a big fan of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, I’m gonna give some of the techniques a try. I told her about my friend who suggested meditation and she thought it was a fantastic idea. She also said not to try to do anything that will cause me to be anxious for the next few weeks. The trip Z wanted the three of us to take to NYC at the end of the month? I just can’t. And that is OK. Now is not the time to be overcoming the anxiety, I just need to manage it until I can pop the kid out. And take chill pills again.
T LOVES bath time. He doesn’t even want to wait until he’s undressed before he crawls in.
God, I love that tiny hiney.
And those eyelashes and the sweet potbelly.