When it Goes Terribly Wrong

Sometimes I worry about stupid things. I know they're stupid and yet I get myself worried about them. I think I'm going to blame my dad because he's also an habitual worrier. You'd never know that he is, but trust me when I tell you. He worries a lot. Then again so does my mom. If you don't call as soon as the plane lands to let them know you're safe, they think the plane has most likely crashed and you are now struggling for life outside waiting for the rescue team to figure out how to get huge chunks of airplane off of you. In my family headaches could also mean brain tumors. I didn't know this was unique to my family until I met Dan and his family of non worriers. "Yeah, that happens sometimes" has got to be his family's mantra. Needless to say that my worries often completely confuse Dan. Usually Dan isn't around so by the time I see him again I have peaked the bell curve of worry and I'm on the downward swing. At that point there's no need to even bring it up to him. I think that is one blessing of him becoming a doctor. He's saved from most of this particular oddity of mine.

This last month though he has been around. And so he's been served a healthy dose of my worry about things that can not possibly be changed, (Do I really have to go through labor in order to get this kid? If I died today what would you name our baby? Name him! Name him now!) things that we are working on fixing, (what if the dampness comes back into the basement even though we've fixed the perceived problem?) and things that are so totally mundane even I can't believe I'm worried (what are we going to do for breakfast when we're at your parents' house?)

Usually I don't think he minds so much. Sometimes though, I bet it bothers him. Last night, after worrying for a few days over some things they sort of spilled out of my mouth at 11:30 at night. Not only that, I started talking in the middle of my thought process instead of at the beginning. As it turns out when it's 11:30 at night, and you are 31 weeks pregnant, and you're worrying about things that haven't even happened yet, it might be hard for your husband to understand you. All I was needing was a little bit of, "I see how that might worry you, but you don't need to because I'll be there and I can help." Probably that's what I should have told him. Instead I just kept talking and talking and talking and getting myself totally worked up. I knew I was going about the whole thing terribly wrong, but I just couldn't stop myself. That was until he finally said, "I am so confused." And then I cried.

And in the end I was finally able to tell him what I should have said in the first place. Then I apologized for being totally insane. Then he did exactly what we both should have done in the first place. He hugged me and kissed me and told me he loved me and then he went to sleep. Next time friends, next time that's what I'm going to try doing.