The Freak

I don’t know what happened to me as a child, but for as long as I can remember, I have always felt like I was outside of the “norm.” The “norm” usually pertained to health things, or situations where I am expecting one thing, because that is what everyone else gets, but I receive another thing. I consider the fact that I’ve seen too many movies and TV shows where freak things happen to people and I’ve been lead to believe I am, in fact, the freak.    Confused? I am too. It is hard to explain without an example… 

If I had a pain in my chest, it wasn’t heart burn, it was, no doubt, some kind of ailment the doctors hadn’t discovered yet. If I accidentally smacked myself in the mouth with a pooper scooper from my dad’s ferrets’ litter box, it was sure to contain poison and would kill me. Nothing was harmless to me, as it may have been for another kid. 

Sounds insane, and maybe it is. Maybe I have undiagnosed hypochondria as I still find myself prone to these types of situations. Well, now, the “adult” part of my brain can rationalize when I am overreacting and when something is truly serious. (Most of the time) However, I do still think doctors will miss something.

All of this to say: I am terrified there is something wrong with my baby. And that it is my fault.

People tell me, “Welcome to parenthood, where you will always worry…” “Yeah, yeah,” I think to myself. 

Now, I’m not just worrying over myself—what if I AM that freak of nature, the one in a million chance, that something goes terribly, inexplicably, awfully WRONG? And it goes wrong because I am too unhealthy, too fat, too SOMETHING. It makes me fall to pieces. I would hate that my lack of ability to live and be a “normal” and normal-sized healthy human being would have detrimental effects on my unborn child. 

I recently had a fetal anatomy scan. The doctor couldn’t clearly visualize all of the baby’s organs, including the heart chambers and brain. I have to have another scan in a month to recheck. This doesn’t happen to most women. Most women have a normal ultrasound and see normal organs and hear a normal heartbeat. They also find out if they are having a normal boy or a normal girl. It took two people to determine the gender of my baby that day. Because my scan wasn’t normal and the first technican couldn’t see. Worst fears coming true.

These thoughts, this worry, will stay with me, keep me awake, until I go back and am assured that I didn’t do it. I didn’t ruin my baby the way that I ruin(ed) myself.

My baby is okay. My baby is alive and well.

Let’s just hope he isn’t born with my set of neuroses.