Before I get going I just want to make it clear that everything is A-OK with the pregnancy. Last night during one of my seemingly constant trips to the bathroom there was a little blood. I didn’t bleed at all durning my pregnancy with T, not until the water broke anyway. Yesterday I was 33 weeks and 3 days pregnant and spotting really seemed like not a great thing.
I suppose the smart and rational thing to do would have been to immediately call the OB’s answering service. But we of the anxiety disorder club, we like to bypass rational. We go straight to crazy town. I sat on the sofa and thought about my options. I didn’t want to bug my doctor. Z was hanging out at a friend’s house. It’s been a stressful few weeks with our little reno project and I really wanted him to have a nice time, so I didn’t want to bother him. Then I started to think about how I overreact to every situation in the world and how frustrating Z finds that. I decided I was going to be calm and just wait until Z came home. And then I decided that when he came home I’d be careful not to pounce on him, give him a space and then let him know. The funny thing is while I was thinking all this stuff I was sure I was being rational. Instead I was simply retreating into myself. It was like I was proving something by not freaking out, except I was freaking out, just in a really quiet way. And I was oblivious to the freak out in the moment. For example, I felt like Z and my doctor and anyone who would hear about the spotting were judging me before they even knew what was going on and I was going to show them all that I could handle this situation. I’m even confused by that part of it. Judging what? How did that line of thinking make sense to me? It’s clearly ridiculous.
So Z came home about half an hour later. And he got himself some ice cream, grabbed his computer, and sat down next to me. I casually told him what happened. He asked what I wanted to do. I told him I didn’t know, but maybe I’d wait and call the doc’s office in the morning. He asked why I hadn’t called already or why I didn’t call him. I told him I didn’t want to bother anyone. He tried to touch me and I shrank away. When my anxiety gets out of control I can’t bear to be touched. That tipped him off that I was really struggling. He told me to call the answering service so I did. And my doc was on call, he told me to call the office in the morning so they could check on things and he told me to call back if contractions started. He also told me to lay down. Great excuse for the freaking out (in a very quiet way) lady to go to bed for the night.
And this morning everything did turn out to be fine. I was on a fetal heartbeat monitor for a long time and New Guy not only sounds great, but I wasn’t having contractions. The doc I saw checked and my cervix is nice and tightly closed, as it should be at the stage of the game. The blood could have come from any number of places and was probably nothing in the scheme of things. It might happen again, it might not.
I’m more discouraged by my continuing inability to deal with normal bumps in the road without freaking out or shutting down. My lack of self awareness in the middle of rough situations is also really demoralizing. I’m tired of the paranoia that leads me to believe everyone in my life will think I’m a pain in the ass when I need to ask for help. Anxiety disorders suck. They suck ass. At least I have a therapy session tomorrow.