Honest

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I'm going to be perfectly honest about something. Not that I haven't been honest before, but this is almost a brutally honest kind of post, (at least in my opinion).

I am a very compassionate person. It doesn't matter how well I know you either. If you are hurting, I feel it. I feel it deep down in my soul. I believe it's one of the many reasons why I cry so easily. I want to fix the hurt more than anything. It also doesn't matter if the hurt is from a human or an animal. I hate to see pain in the world. It makes my heart so very heavy and I get overwhelmed.

That is part of the reason why I have gone to counseling off and on since 1st grade. That's right, I said 1st grade. Originally, seeing the school counselor was a chance for me to get a break from my class. I had a lot of rambunctious boys in my class with a brand new teacher. The teacher had a hard time controlling any of the kids and it made me so upset to go to school. By going to counseling, I had 1 hour outside of the class by myself. However, the older I got, (and the more I got teased), the harder it was for me to deal.

You see, with both my parents being ministers, I had two church families growing up. Part of the make-up of the congregations my parents would serve included lots of older people. I do mean lots. If one would pass away, or get sick, or anything like that, I would get overwhelmed with emotion. With all the other things I was dealing with as a child, (teasing, lack of friends, lack of confidence, etc.), I had no room for all the emotions I felt. I couldn't sort out my own problems.

This only got worse.

Once I was in junior high and high school, I kept making friends with people who, although were very nice and good to me, had lots of issues. Including most of my boyfriends in high school, I mostly hung out with people I could "fix". The ones who needed me because I hated to see them in any type of pain. In the course of 5 years, I had 3 friends at school die, and 2 of them try to commit suicide. These were the people I chose to be around. Again, they were good people, but they just had a lot of issues. Since I wanted to fix their problems, I could never deal with mine. This is why I continued to go to counseling so I could learn to deal with my problems.

Now, I didn't tell this story to get sympathy. Nor am I trying to justify anything. However, I felt it was important to emphasize just how much other people's pain affects me.

Ever since I found out that I was pregnant with a viable pregnancy, I have been so thankful and happy. I know just how blessed I am to carry this child and how much of a big deal it is. I know of so many others who would give anything to be in my shoes. I completely understand that. I may not have suffered infertility as long as others, but PCOS is something I have to live with every day for the rest of my life. This may be the only child I can carry on my own. This could be my only chance. I try not to rub my pregnancy in anyone's face and I try to be as positive as possible.

However, aside from being a very compassionate person, I am also a hypochondriac. I always have been. Every pain, twitch, burp, fart, gas bubble, heartburn, etc. has had me on edge. Since I know this is such a blessing, I have been more paranoid than ever that something could happen. I tried so hard to keep everything out of my mind that could happen to baby before I got to the second trimester. I figured once I got to that milestone, everything would be honky-dory.

The problem with that? Ever since I hit my second trimester, I have had a series of announcements via blogs or facebook or what-have-you of women who have lost their children after they've hit the second trimester. Something happens with their development and they have a horrible defect that will make them a still-birth if they make it to term. Or something else happens and the baby dies before or soon after birth. Or the baby is born healthy and then has this incurable cancer. And of course, the latest episode of The Secret Life of the American Teenager did not help either. These are such sad stories and I have cried over each and every one of them.

Then, being the selfish hypochondriac I am, I start to worry that it'll be me. In fact, I ended up breaking down into this sob-fest on Wednesday as soon as I got home from work. Why? Not only had I been reading heart-breaking stories about loss all afternoon, I upset myself because I couldn't imagine having a 6 month-old this time next year. I couldn't visualize dressing a child in a swimsuit, taking it to a pool and just having a wonderful time in the water together. I couldn't imagine loading up a child in a car seat in my Jeep so we could run to Target and stop at a sno-cone shack.

Why did this upset me? Because I have one of the most vivid imaginations and I always have. That's why being a hypochondriac is so dangerous for me. I can visual things very easily and with lots of detail. So why can't I see myself with a child?

Now I know that this doesn't mean I will lose our child. In fact, I don't know anything because I'm not in control, (but that's a whole other post about control issues!). I know God will take care of me, but I also know He does all according to His will and not mine. What if His will is for me to lose this child? It would be so hard and heart-breaking. I know that this is part of what faith is. Trusting in Him and His will no matter what. Having faith doesn't mean I'll never worry. It doesn't mean I won't cry about it. I just can't let it get to me so much.

It's mostly hard for me because of my compassion and hypochondria. This combination really makes it hard for me to put into perspective that I am a rule and not an exception. The chances of losing my baby due to any complication is very very slim. I think a part of me worries because I chose not to do any early testing for abnormalities. I figured they were mostly to check for Down's Syndrome and Phil and I decided that wouldn't affect how much we love our child. We don't have any genetic reason to test for it and we'd be more than happy to raise a child with special needs. I'm sure another part of my worry now is the fact that I'm at least 2 weeks away from feeling any movements and 6 weeks away from my next ultrasound. I just want to know bebe is ok. I want that assurance. I crave it.

So if you have a happy story about a baby being just fine and healthy, I'd love to hear it. I seem to not hear those stories very often.

With this in mind, I've made the conscience decision that, although I will want to, I will not be reading any more sad stories. I just can't handle my own issues and be happy with my blessing if I continue to put those burdens on myself. That's the brutally honest part. I'm sure this sounds really horrible and selfish. I don't mean to come off that way. You have no idea how much I hate to upset others. However, I need to do this for the good of my baby and myself. I need to be thankful and happy and trusting.

This is such a perfect example of why I chose the word "know" as my word of the year. I need to keep that bible verse in mind and know that He is on my side. He is taking care of me and my baby and all will be well. It is well with my soul.

I will leave you with the lyrics of a beautiful hymn I'm sure you've heard before. It keeps coming to my mind as I've struggled with my doubt and fear this week. I hope it is comforting to you as well.

Why should I feel discouraged
Why should the shadows come
Why should my heart be lonely
And long for heaven and home
When Jesus is my portion
My constant friend is He
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me

Chorus: 
I sing because I'm happy
I sing because I'm free
For His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me

Let not your heart be troubled
His tender word I hear
And resting on His goodness
I lose my doubts and fears
I draw Thee closer to me
A constant friend is He
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me