Anxious

I apologize for the infrequency in posts recently. I've been in my own head a lot lately. It takes me a while to digest and process my emotions and thoughts about things. That's why I just recently shared how J-bird's surgery affected our marriage. It happened almost 2 years ago. It just takes me a while to process and then feel ready to share. Believe it or not, I'm a rather private person. Guarded. Selective.

I've been anxious lately, which is nothing new. I get anxious about something happening to Goose, about having another baby, about our stupid yard sale, about my retirement accounts. Really if there is any chance that something could go wrong or be out of my control, I can easily get anxious. That applies to almost everything.

I was almost in a panic last night after we went through some yard sale stuff and I realized just how much stuff there really was. Really, it's a yard sale. What can happen? Nothing bad. We either sell the stuff, or haul it off to Goodwill. The end.

I get anxious about having another baby, particularly since I'm afraid what happened before, or something much worse and more devastating, will happen again. The naivete is gone. Just because I've been able to get pregnant with (somewhat surprising) ease in the past does not mean that when we are pregnant again, we will have a baby at the end of it all. It doesn't mean anything except that I get a chance at it all again. A chance to have a giant round belly, a chance to feel a little being move around inside, a chance to hear those first cries, to be one of the few people in the room when someone so special enters the world for the very first time. For the very first time. If you've ever questioned the existence of God or other higher being, there are no doubts at that moment. It's nothing short of a miracle when a healthy baby is born and cries for the very first time. It's overwhelming, otherworldly love.

I could lie awake all night every night thinking about everything that could possibly ever happen to Goose, but I choose not to make myself crazy. So yes, I put "in case of emergency" stickers on her carseat and stroller before she goes anywhere without me. That's just planning, right? I know, it's a little crazy. But I'm the type that can fast-forward through a hypothetical scenario to where Goose is in an accident and the adult with her is unable to speak and the EMTs don't know who Goose is and how to find her parents, me. They don't even know her name. So that's why I put that on her carseat. So they'd know her name, so maybe she wouldn't be so scared.

Enough. See how quickly I can make myself crazy with this stuff?

At some point, I decided, and must continue to decide daily, hourly sometimes, to resign myself to fate/God/all that is around. I am not in control. I can certainly minimize risk, try to make good decisions, and attempt to exert some sort of control over my own little environment, but I really have to just believe that things will work out. I have to believe that things will work out.

I HAVE TO BELIEVE THAT THINGS WILL WORK OUT.

And you do too.