Do you understand how crazy-making this is?!
Nick and Aurelia leave for Hawaii in two days, t-w-o, and here’s the rundown of what goes on in my head:
- What if she gets this cold I have in the next few days?
- What if someone takes her at the airport?
- What if her sickness goes 100% worse while on the flight?
- What if the plane to Hawaii goes down in a fiery-ball?
- What if she has an epic tantrum and dislocates a body part/hits her head?
- What if she gets emergency-level burned during the pig roast?
- What if she goes missing during the New Year’s Eve party while Nick is pre-occupied with cutting the pig?
- What if there’s a major car accident?
- What if I go into early labor?
- What if Nick gets distracted by his cell phone and she runs into the street/someone takes her?
- What if they decide she’ll be okay to sleep in her own room which equals in her mind that she can get out of bed without telling anyone and then falls down the stairs/unlocks the door and goes outside?
- What if the plane back to Seattle goes down in a fiery-ball? That’s on Aurelia’s 3rd birthday!!
- What if she is simply having a really bad day and wants me, but I am not there for her and thus - emotionally scar her for life (!!!)?
By this point – you should simply take me to my bed, give me a box of tissues and a bar of chocolate laced with a mild tranquilizer.
Sure, logically and statistically, something bad could happen to either of them. There’s always a chance. Something could happen to Nick and Arri today, on the way home from daycare. But I am here, too. I can run anywhere they are. I can’t simply jump in my car and drive to Hawaii. There’s, like, an ocean in the way. It will take me at least six hours just to fly there, not including car rides to/from airports. What if they won’t even let me on the plane?! I mean, my doctor or the airline could refuse to load my pregnant-butt on the plane because I could be a liability.
:: deep breath ::
You probably think I’m ridiculous. I have to believe that 50% of this is pregnancy hormones. The other half if simply me being me, worrying about the people that matter most to me and not knowing how I would exist without them.
Let’s also point out that all-of-this is part of the reason why I am d.o.n.e. making humans. I can usually find ways to cope with this when I am normal-ole-me, but when I’m pregnant – my coping skills are thumbtacks in the feet of the anxiety-giant’s feet tromping and thundering around me.
So… yeah. It’s okay. I’ll be okay… next year (!) when they are both back home and in my arms again.