When I originally started my blog, the intent was to keep my out of town friends and family posted on pregnancy updates. There are a lot of them, and phone calls would have had me occupied for hours. It was just the easiest way to keep everyone in the loop. Since then, they've pretty much all stopped reading, and it's become somewhere that I can speak more candidly about life. I wish that I had started doing that last time, so that I could go back and read and remember exactly when things happened and what it was like.
For example, I know that there was a point late in my last pregnancy when the anxiety started to get really overwhelming. It had been slowly getting worse, but there was a tipping point when I went through multiple sleepless nights worrying about whether the screening tests had missed a genetic disorder and then questioning whether he would have all of his arms, hands, legs, and feet, because I couldn't remember seeing them on the ultrasound. That was when I decided to ask for medication. Because I wasn't being fully honest with my reading audience, I don't remember exactly what that point was. I do, however, remember that it was right before my Cincinnati baby shower because the initial dosage was too high and made me nauseous and I was worried about feeling sick all day. So it was week 34 last time. Which is fascinating to me, because it's really starting to become a problem again, and I just entered week 35.
After waffling and consulting trusted friends and other resources, I decided to go ahead and sign up for the Pig yesterday. I was so excited and happy that I had finally made the choice to go ahead and give it a shot. That was during the day. Once the sun went down, and I was in bed and alone with my thoughts, it was a whole other story. What if I ran the marathon and somehow damaged my baby? What if I ended up with something worse than a damaged baby - no baby at all? Even though all of my OBs and midwives have given me the go ahead to cover 26.2 miles (and no, I have no plans to "run" all of them), thanks to the OCD I just keep conjuring up worst case scenarios. So now this morning I'm back where I started - should I do it? Should I just do the half, instead? What if something horrible happens? I know I'd never forgive myself.
But then I keep thinking - what if I didn't have OCD? Would this even be a question? Would I be worried about all of the things that could possibly go wrong? Or would I just be excited to cover the race course and get a giant medal at the end? What would a "normal" person think about the situation?
I'm not a dumb runner, I know that I'm good at listening to my body and backing off when I have to. I know that I wouldn't push myself past my pregnant limits. But what if, what if, what if?
So I think that at my 36 appointment next week I'm going to ask about getting back on anxiety medication. I can't keep sitting up all night thinking about awful outcomes. It was a good decision last time, so maybe I need to learn from that experience and take the help that's available.