Very occasionally I’ll go ahead and have two separate anxiety attacks in one day. After having one I like to think I’m sort of safe for the rest of the day, so I often get disoriented when the second one rolls around. Last night we were eating dinner outside when my heart started pounding again. And as unbelievable as it sounds I couldn’t figure out what was going on. I thought back about the day and decided to fixate on what I’d eaten at the movies.
Because the movie was a big deal to me I thought I’d disregard my diet on this very special occasion and I got a small popcorn (layered with the simultaneously disgusting and delicious fake liquid butter and generously sprinkled with salt) and a small Coke Icee (which was actually huge). It’s my standard movie theater order and I wouldn’t have thought twice about getting it before the whole gestational diabetes scare. It was the first soda I’d had in over a month. The whole thing sat in my stomach like a brick. It made me feel so gross I didn’t even want lunch when I got home. The only thing I ate yesterday before making dinner was a nectarine even though I’m usually ravenous all the time now. Yup, the unhealthy food made me feel bad, there are no two ways about it. I mean, the anxiety attack didn’t help matters. But the truth is when you consistently eat healthily you really feel gross after the instant gratification of the junk food. Um, that is a new lesson to me. I’ve basically eaten junk for my whole life. Since working at Whole Foods it’s been expensive and usually all-natural or organic junk, but it’s been junk all the same.
Back to the anxiety attack. So I convinced myself that I was having some diabetic reaction to the stuff I’d eaten half a day earlier. Even though it’s been established that I do not, in fact, have gestational diabetes. I asked Z if he thought it was possible that the soda I’d had more than eight hours previously was affecting my physiology. He gave me that old standby look of his, the one of pity and incredulity simultaneously, and told me no. He said he thought I was having an anxiety attack. I asked why he thought that and he said, “First of all, you’ve said it yourself a bunch of times over the last few minutes.” I thought back and I didn’t remember saying it once. Evidently I did realize I was having an anxiety attack on some level, and I was actually talking about it, but I wasn’t conscious of it. Weird, right? Hearing that sort of jerked me back to reality. I told Z I was going to have to go ahead and take a chill pill.
As much as I wanted to get through this pregnancy without one, I knew I had permission from my doc, and I thought my poor New Guy had been through quite enough for the day. I needed to calm the fuck down as much for him as for myself. Z totally agreed with me. The pill did what it was meant to do. New Guy was moving around a lot as it started working, which set my mind at ease. He was also active through the night and through the morning.
There are probably plenty of people who would be critical of me using medication during pregnancy, even once. Hell, they probably would wonder why a crazy lady would think she had any business being a mom in the first place. Thankfully those folks haven’t found my blog. But you know what? I’m doing the best I can here. I am actively working on my problems and I have strategies in place to deal with emergency situations. After years of anxiety attacks I feel like I have multitasking down. During the AM attack I was paying attention to the movie as I was figuring out what the hell was going on with my body. During the PM one I managed to play with T and feed him and change his diaper as I dealt with attack number two. Do the attacks suck? Um, yes. Yes, they do. But they are part of who I am. And most other parts of my life are beyond wonderful, so I don’t really have a lot to complain about. Besides, they are kind of funny in retrospect. I didn’t know I was having an anxiety attack, yet I was telling Z I was having an anxiety attack? You can’t make that shit up.