You’ll shoot your eye out

I have become the hypochondriac mother.  Ever since the miscarriages, I am in touch with the notion that I am not so invincible.  Whoa, it happened to me?  Yeah, it sure did.

So, stuff happens and you move on, right?  Well, apparently not for me.

I have had some post-partum anxiety.  4 kids ages 10 and under will do that.  When you are standing in the kitchen, and the noodle water is boiling over, your husband is asking if you paid the bills, your oldest is reading the sports section out loud to everyone, 7yo is asking if he can feed the cat, 4yo is asking "Can we make the Sea Monkeys, can we make the Sea Monkeys, can we make the Sea Monkeys, can we make the Sea Monkeys, WHEN CAN WE MAKE THE SEA MONKEYS?" and the baby is on the floor pulling on your pants screaming to be picked up because you are the Object of Her Affection, well, the word anxiety doesn’t quite do it justice. 

I expected to have some intense moments with a large family.  What I didn’t expect is the "stay awake at night" anxiety with worries about all the uncontrollable disasters that could fall upon my husband or one of my kids.  Things like, "OMG, that mole on his clubfoot leg is getting bigger, is it cancer?"  Or, "Call me every 5 minutes while you are out having fun riding the dirt bike so I will know that you haven’t crashed, broken your neck and left me with 4 kids to raise by myself…but be sure and have fun, in moderation".  Then, there is the fact that the two oldest boys got Red Rider BB guns from their grandparents for Christmas, and when they went out to shoot some cans with their dad in the back yard, I actually yelled out the back door "Be careful or you’ll shoot your eye out".  The best for last, Bill’s favorite, and an oldie but goodie, "She has fever again.  It’s leukemia. I knew everything was going too perfect." 

I was trained to expect the worse during miscarriage and infertility hell.  I was at depcon 4 in regards to worry and anxiety for 2 full years.  It is REALLY hard to come down to depcon 1, even after the birth of Mia…a healthy, gorgeous baby girl.  Add to that my medical knowledge, and, well, you get the picture. 

So, I carry on with what my husband has diagnosed as PMDD (thanks, honey).  I can tell when it’s starting.  My hormones rule it.  It is part of my monthly cycle, which is completely psychotic due to the breastfeeding, therefore it is unpredictable, and there is nothing more dangerous than an unpredictable, breastfeeding mother of 4.   Bill says that I should go for a run or exercise when I feel it coming on.  Right.  I will schedule that at around 2a.m. while Mia is sleeping and before Quinn dreams that he is peeing and actually does…in our bed.

Last night, after bringing Bill a picture of Quinn’s leg that showed his mole and telling him "So, now that you have seen this, can you tell me it isn’t bigger?"  he replied "Well, yes, it is bigger now, which I assume is because his leg, here in this picture, is only 6 weeks old, and now, it has grown into a bigger leg, the leg of a 4 YEAR OLD!  Bigger leg, bigger mole.  Got it?" 

After wards we talked about my anxiety and feelings of being overwhelmed.  He was very loving and told me about some vitamins that are known to help.  He also said "Look around you.  We have a really good life, nothing short of perfect.  Granted, your father got cancer, you had miscarriages and then some basal cell cancer removed. Yes, bad things happen, but you have no control over that.  Don’t let the possibility of catastrophe control you.  You can’t live like that." 

Me, "Ahem, your right. I need to let go of the past and enjoy the present. I will put all my energy into it……………. Oh, um, by the way, is that a new growth on your ear?"