I feel like maybe if I say it out loud (or rather, write it out loud) it won't make me crazy anymore. Make sense? Okay, so I have three kids, babies really, even though Ava is almost FOUR years old, and when I was pregnant with Ava, I was a teeny tiny bit worried that something would happen, but not that worried. And once I could feel her move, forget it, I barely ever worried at all. Hence the admission to the hospital at thirty one weeks when I didn't realize that I was in preterm labor :)
I worried a little after she was born, but again, not too much. Not enough to stop me from sleeping her on her back, and letting her roll off a bench in a dressing room at the Limited while I tried on pants. One of my old HNs of 4F had a baby that was about seven months older and the baby died at a year old from SIDS! At a year! Now THAT scared me for a few weeks, but by then Ava was rolling over on her own, even if I did sleep her on her back. So that worry was short lived.
Enter Scott. Obviously, never worried about that kid a single day of his life. Hence the tumble down the concrete steps. Hence the goose egg on his forehead when he hit the radiator. Hence two and a half years of rough and tumble bumps, bruises, and scrapes. And he's fine.
Point is, I just am not one of those worrisome moms. I worry about a lot of weird things, but my children's safety just hasn't been one of them.
Until Warren. Ever since I tripped and fell when he was like, two weeks old, I can't stop worrying about him! My friend Melissa was holding him (THANK GOD!!! And thank you, Mel) but the way I tripped-over a hose- and went down-flat on my face...if I had been holding him, he would have died. I just know it. I didn't even break my fall, I literally hit the pavement with my face. What if he'd been in my arms?
So ever since then, I'm obsessed, literally obsessed, with him dying. Isn't that horrible? I have these visions of dropping him, and he pops open like a watermelon! It's so terrifying! Or I'll have a mini panic attack in the car because I think I left him somewhere! But the absolute worst was the other day: I went in the library to grab these cute new books (Emily Griffin, they're not my usual fare, but they're pretty good) and I left my phone in the car so I wouldn't be tempted to text in there.
Well, bu this time, Warren had been napping for ninety minutes (huge deal in the Engelbrecht house) and while I was checking my books out, I completely freaked out! I became CONVINCED that Nick had finally gone up to check on him and he was dead. So Nick tries to call me and I don't have my phone! So then I'm thinking he called an ambulance and they're all in a hospital, and I don't even know where the hospital is up here! It was HORRIFYING!
Of course, I called Nick and everything was fine. As it always is. So why do I freak out about this ALL THE TIME? I'm not depressed, seriously. I'm a little lonely up here, but I've been having this freaking-out problem since before we moved up here. So it's honestly not post partum depression. And it's JUST Warren! Isn't that the craziest thing you've ever heard?