Through the mind

I am not a worrier. Really. I'm not. Generally, things can come and go and I really don't get too excited about it. I think I get it from my Dad. He's had 2 heart attacks, and while I believe he must have been afraid or nervous, to any outsider, it would appear that he loved every minute of them. "Can I be awake for that?" My dad's other name could be John Wayne. And so, I like to think I'm a little like him. I hope *other* people think I'm a little like him.

However...

However. Yes.

Hormones do strange things to a person's mind. For as long as I can remember, I have not wanted children. I don't like kids. Generally, I find them noisy, messy, and annoying. They were not something I was remotely interested in having for myself. I had plenty to do, and I was perfectly happy with that. And then...Well, I just sort of woke up one morning early last spring and I simply wanted a baby. Hormones? I don't know, really, perhaps just a little maturity that caught up to me.

What *is* certain is that I was definitely nervous, and quite insecure about the decision, right up until about a month before I found out I was pregnant. At that point, I was simply ready for this baby. Which makes a lot of sense now, given that we now know I was pregnant an entire month and a half before we observed sufficient symptoms to actually go out and buy a pregnancy test. I blame hormones. My body *knew* there was a baby there, and that was that.

After seven and a half months of pregnancy, I now am a firm believer in hormones. I am absolutely teeming with them. Things that *never* bothered me in the past are now suddenly a huge deal. Sad movies. I had never in my life cried at a sad movie. Old Yeller? Pshaw. No problem. Sappiness? No effect. I was an emotional machine...I could handle it. And then, I found myself crying over the scene in the new "Freaky Friday" movie at the end where the mom and daughter swap bodies back to who they were supposed to be.

Huh? What's this wet stuff? And to make matters worse, my well-meaning-but-a-bit-uneducated-in-the-pregnant-wife-department husband asks me "What's your problem?" Which, in the normal course of events, is a perfectly legitimate question. Normally when I cry, there *is* a problem, usually a severe gaping wound of some sort. Of course, that innocent question preciptated precipitation from my eyes, which could be described in terms of "Cats and Dogs."

I thought that was bad. Crying is possibly one of my least favorite activities; it makes me feel...oh, weak is not the right word...perhaps "not in control" would be a better phrase. But no, that crying was not even the tip of the iceburg. Things that were mildly irritating before are now grounds for beheading. The husband is now educated in pregnant-wife-behavior. Well educated. Things that were not even thought of before are now reason to call the emergency room to make sure a loved one is not there. (Don't worry, I didn't actually *call*, but I seriously thought about it.)

Most recently, I had a series of 3 dreams, 3 nights in a row. The first was that my Dad was leaving and wouldn't be coming back ever. Given my first paragraph today, that would be a serious point of concern for me under normal circumstances. Second, Jerry left. I can't remember why, but I do remember waking up crying yet again.

Third, and the worst of all, I dreamed that Jerry died. Then when I woke up that morning, the alarm clock had not gone off, so he was 15 minutes late. By the time he left, I got up, and got to work, I had convinced myself that he had driven too fast trying to be not-quite-so-late and wrecked his truck and was in the emergency room. To top it all off, he was in such a hurry that he forgot his cell phone. I did the only thing I could do. I called his mother. Luckily, he went by her office about 15 minutes later, and I felt sheepish the rest of the day.

And it goes on. Folding clothes. Sink hygene. Litterbox (which I can't change right now) issues. You name it, I've been upset about it. I'm sort of getting used to it. I'm not sure Jerry ever will.