The Art of Worrying

I had my 28-week prenatal appointment today. When my midwife asked if I had any questions, I rattled off a list of complaints. "I'm exhausted all the time," I said. "I'm hot and sweaty. Sometimes, I'm short of breath or a little breathless from just walking up the stairs. I have heartburn, my back hurts and I have these shooting pains in my groin. My face is puffy and I feel like a beached whale." All the while, she nodded and looked sympathetic. When I was finished, I was sure she was going to tell me that these were all signs of some horrible complications, or at least that I probably was starting to get high blood pressure, or worse, that I was obviously too high risk to use their services and would have to switch to an OB and hospital. Instead, she simply smiled and said in her usually calm voice, "What you are describing is completely normal." Then, she took my blood pressure and I was sure it would be high. "Normal," she said. "Is the baby in the right position?" I asked. She felt around and said, "It's too early to worry about that. There's still lots of space and the baby is moving all around." She listened to the baby's heartbeat, but kept losing it. "The baby is sure moving!" she said. She finally found it again, listened for a few minutes and said, "Sounds good!" My heart palpitations were slowing down. I had finally stopped sweating from my rush to get to the appointment. The lunch I wolfed down before leaving work had finally started to settle and no longer felt like a lump in my ever shrinking stomach. By the time my midwife drew some blood for my glucose test, I was joking and laughing. I won't get the results of the test for a day or so . . . just enough time to convince myself that I do, indeed, have gestational diabetes. Like Matthew always says, "At least you have something to worry about." ~ Nicole