It’s less than 12 hours to my first prenatal visit, and I’m kind of completely freaking out. I have no idea why I’m so anxious about this visit. Oh, wait, except that last time I was pregnant my baby died and I’m terrified it’s going to happen again.
Being worried isn’t going to change one thing between now and tomorrow. The only difference worrying will make is in ensuring that I sleep like crap tonight and am not well rested in the morning. It will not do one thing to change the outcome of tomorrow’s visit.
But tomorrow’s visit will change something. It could be the difference between hoping everything is okay versus knowing that it’s not and having my hopes, and my heart, dashed again. Admittedly it could be the difference between worrying that something is wrong and learning that I and my baby are perfectly healthy and there’s nothing to be concerned about. But I’ve never really been one to focus on the possible positives.
My constant fear of the worst-case scenario is not something I want to pass on to my children. My fantastic rack, on the other hand… Okay, just kidding. I needed to lighten the mood for a moment there.
It’s late, I’m tired, and it’s not like tomorrow’s exam is something I can study for. Time to turn in. I wish I could have a guilt-free glass of wine before I hit the hay. Only 7 months before I can do that again! I hope. A healthy pregnancy and birth will be well worth 9 months or more of abstaining from alcohol.