Is there crazy on my face?

Maybe it’s the snow, or the cold, dark, dreary days.  Maybe it’s the headaches each morning and most of the day, or the fatigue that I carry all day.  Maybe it’s the sinus congestion, or the uncomfortable nature of pregnancy.  But I think I have some crazy on my face.  Can anybody notice?

I am thankful for this time with this sweet growing baby inside of me.  I am thankful for the slight movements I can feel.  I am thankful for the possibility of having a new miracle.  I am preparing for the worst but hoping for the best.  But I am terrified of the “inevitable” perceived (or imagined) dangers of life.  All I keep picturing (and trying desperately to ignore) is the possibility of holding this little one, still and blue in a couple months.  “Stay positive”, “smile”, “think good thoughts”, “be upbeat”.  These suggestions do nothing for me, mean little to me in fact, and, depending on the day, they make me kind of perturbed.  I think I am remaining pretty positive; I mean I still have mini daydreams about decorating her room or buying her clothes, about seeing if she looks like Gracie, or Gabbie, or Sky.  But these thoughts are stifled so quickly because of the fear of it being for naught.  I cannot un-decorate another nursery again, nor can I shop for a baby that may never come only to return the stuff later. Yet the idea of being unprepared is not comfortable either.   It feels like I’m starring in a horror story in which I can guess the ending but am helpless to stop the events from happening.  It’s similar to yelling at the TV “No! Why are you so stupid?” during a predictable horror movie in which you know that the killer is hiding in the room that the protagonist is entering. I hope I am pleasantly surprised but... who knows?

I have anxiety about absolutely everything relating to children being hurt.  Kids walking/running up and downstairs make my stomach lurch as I envision them tumbling down the stairs and me being helpless to catch them.  G chewing on a fruit roll up in the backseat makes my heart race as my imagination, unwillingly and much too quickly to stop, runs through a scenario in which she chokes and I would only be able to watch helplessly for an eternity of a millisecond before I can pull over to try and help her.  I picture cars colliding into mine as though in some action movie, and rattling everything inside me, shaking up the girls in the backseat.  I keep imagining terrible scenarios and cannot prevent them from coming unbidden into my minds-eye.  I quickly brush them away out of my thoughts but the instant they begin I cannot control them and the brief thought of “you don’t want the girls to live like this… hide it” is quick to follow.  But too late?  Anxiety is so heavy to carry.  Sometimes when I’m falling asleep I hear “Mama” called out in my room as if someone is in need of help but it is not Gracie or Sky.  I wake up and listen intently to silence or the whirring of the humidifier.  Then I go to back to bed, fall asleep instantly, and have full color nightmares of people trying to hurt me or us in any number of ways.  Then I wake up and sleep fitfully for much of the night, on and off with dreams, uncomfortable in my mind.  I check the time often in the darkness hoping, and yet not hoping, for more time to sleep. 

D says I’m becoming a “worry wart” but I cannot help it.  Is it crazy to think like this?   It's not that I react horribly, although repeated actions of these cause me to become short of breath.  If G goes too many times up then down the stairs I lose my mind a little.  I wonder if the anxiety is noticeable.  I was bound to change from losing Gabbie. How could I not?  But is there crazy on my face now?