I lost a day somewhere...Day 10: My Biggest Fears

I'm now at Day 10 of the blog because I skipped one and can't figure out which one it was, and I've been blogging for about 16 days. Something is so wrong about that but I can't help it. Every time I sit down to write, something else comes up and away I go. Lily cries, the dog starts barking, JP cries...one thing or another keeps me from staying right on track. It's ok, though. At least I'm still hanging in here.

Today's topic is one I've been dreading for the last few days. Fears. No one wants to discuss their fears, but I guess this is an integral part of the "Getting to know Amy" process so I can't skip this one-- especially since my fellow 30 day bloggers have already tackled and trudged through this one.

One of my "lesser" fears, if you can have a "lesser" fear, is that I will never have the time and energy to go back to the gym, I will never lose this extra weight I've been carrying around for over a year, and I will never get back into skinny clothes. I'm not happy with myself at this stage of the game because of how I look, and I want so desperately to change it. It's a real challenge for me right now to find the time to get into the gym, between work, taking care of Lily and JP, and taking care of our house, due in part to the weird 10-7 middle of the morning, day, and evening schedule I'm working. I'm planning on starting to get up when JP gets home in the mornings from work and going then. I'd rather be tired than miss out on time with Lily or let my house fall to shambles. But I just can't help but have this fear that I'm always going to look in the mirror and be unhappy with what I see. I don't want to be the big, unhealthy mommy and wife.

I have a few bigger fears. These are the dark, scary ones that make my hands get clammy, my mouth go dry, and my head spin with worry. Part of me wants to go, "Yep, what I just wrote was my fear. Good day!" But I'd be lying, and lying is bad. So put your serious caps on because here we go.

I am terrified, absolutely trembling terrified, of losing JP and/or Lily.

Everyone asks me how I sleep at night and how I'm not just beside myself with worry because of JP being a cop and being out on the roads at night. I've never known JP any other way. I didn't know the JP that waited tables at nearly every restaurant in town, or the JP that floated around all the stores at the Outlet Mall. I've only known the JP that works nights as a patrolman for LPD. I didn't have a choice BUT to get used to it. If I wouldn't have gotten used to it, or been able to handle it, I wouldn't be where I am today with him. It takes a certain kind of woman to be married to a cop, for sure. There are a lot of women that can't handle it. But, with all that being said, it doesn't mean that I don't worry. With cops being killed in the line of duty in record numbers this year...with people getting less and less moral as time goes on...I worry. When the phone rings in the middle of the night sometimes, I worry that it's going to be someone on the other end telling me JP's gotten hurt. I have dreams of his Lieutenant and Sergant knocking on my door in the middle of the night to tell me he's been killed in the line of duty. I just try my hardest not to let that get to me. JP is well trained, level-headed, and I trust more than anything that in split second situations, he'll be able to make the right decisions for both himself and others. But it still is one of my biggest fears. I don't honestly know what I'd do with out him.

With Lily, the fear is a whole different type of fear. I guess it's because we've already had some scares with her. When I was at my 36 week ultrasound, the tech commented on her lack of movement (which was surprising, considering she was normally like a jumping bean). Then she kept taking shots of Lily's stomach, the blood flow from the umblical cord to her, my amniotic fluid. I knew in my heart something wasn't right. And then they wheeled in the fetal stress test machine. I've since learned we barely left the hospital that day-- had my doctor been there, we wouldn't have. The next day at work, they called to tell me I was being induced, and that Dr. Deppen would talk to me more about it at the hospital. When she did sit down to talk to us, the thing that stuck out (and still reverberates in my mind) is "I felt like this was the best course of action. Your amniotic fluid levels are very low, and while I'm sorry to have you in here on the weekend, I think your baby will do much better outside. Right now, she is failing to thrive in your body, and we're not sure when she stopped growing, but she has. I didn't want to wait until Monday, because the difference between delivering today and delivering Monday could be a healthy baby versus a stillborn baby. Every day that she stays in your body is a day that she could go into destress and we could lose her." That's terrifying. When I delivered, I had my doctor and nurse as well as a neonatal nurse and neonatal respiratory specialist doctor, because no one was sure at what point Lily stopped growing and developing, so there was a chance she would have breathing problems. What a blessing it was to hear her take a very big, very deep breath and start crying her head off. What a blessing to see that she was perfectly proportioned, perfectly healthy, and a great size for a 4 week early preemie.

And of course, later, when Lily was just 2 and a half months old, we were sent to Vanderbilt's Lion's Group Eye Center to see a pediatric opthlamologist because we noticed her eyes were 2 different colors. The pediatrician also noticed her pupils were 2 different sizes, and was concerned at what was causing it. We found out she has Horner's Syndrome, which is heterochromia of the eye and causes the pupils not to dilate at the same levels. Then the doctor started tossing around phrases such as "tumor on the nerve", "tumor on the pituitary gland", "can sometimes be treated", and I thought I was going to pass out. We had to take her for an MRI at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital a few months later. She was put under anesthesia for over 3 hours while they looked at pretty much her whole body. The risks of putting someone that young under anesthesia is huge, and the hardest thing I've had to do to date was hand my happy, smiling baby over to the nurse who was taking her away to put her under. Thank God for answered prayers, because she is just fine. There's no way to tell what really caused the Horner's- it could have been some kind of trauma during birth, or just a development thing, but there are no tumors. She's not blind, and she's perfectly normal. But, even in spite of all that, the fear of losing her is blinding. When I was dealing with postpartum depression when she was a few months old, it was crippling. I didn't want to leave her anywhere. I did, but not without having a small panic attack on the inside that something would happen while I was gone. I'm doing a lot better with that all now, thank goodness.

Losing my closest loved ones is only 2nd to my other big fear, which is failing them. I am very hard on myself when it comes to doing the best I can for those around me, and I worry a lot that I'm going to fail them in some way. I'm not going to be the best wife to JP, or that I'll do something wrong raising Lily and she'll resent me for it. I'm worried that I never do enough for them, and that I didn't do enough to be a good example as a wife and mother. I know, deep down, that this is silly, because all one can do is their best, but I'm always scared I'm either not doing my best, or that my best isn't their best.

Some other things that give me goosebumps, raise my blood pressure, and cause me general discomfort in the way of fear: spiders, chainsaws (I'm right there with you, Mere), and large flocks of birds (it doesn't matter if it's a huge flock of hummingbirds...swarms of birds scare me).