On Sale Color Your Spring 2019

When I found out I was pregnant with Conor I was single, young, and pretty stupid.  When I told the ex-boyfriend the situation he quickly skipped town around the time I was 6 weeks along.  I never heard from him again.  I had to grow up and get my shit together fast, but in all honesty it wasn't that hard.  As soon as I realized I was pregnant, I was attached to the little one growing inside me.  I had never felt more in love with anything or anyone in my life before.  When he first born it was beyond difficult, I was alone and he had colic for the first 6 months of his life.  I thought I was going to lose my mind but we pulled through and I've always felt like we had a very special bond because of how it started.  In the beginning I was all he had and he was all I had.

Now obviously Conor and I got very lucky when I found C, he is a great dad and treats Conor like his own.  And now we get to add another baby to love to the mix.  All in all I'd say I've been very blessed with how things turned out.

But herein lies the problem.  Not so much a problem as a concern.  My biggest fear (and trust me, there are a lot of course) about this pregnancy is that I'm not going to love this baby as much as I love Conor.  Admitting that is both painful and humiliating.  Painful because I feel horrible for even having that worry, humiliating because I know how ridiculous it is.  And to add on to this fear is the fear that Conor and I will lose our closeness and he will suffer because of it (obviously, since I'm such a big bundle of mommy fun lately).

I think this pregnancy has really made me decide to go for the gold in mommy guilt this year.  With the intense epidemic of mommy guilt I have to wonder why no one has come up with a cure all for us. 

Oh wait, never mind, it's called the wine section as Costco. 

Deep down inside I know I have plenty of love to equally devote to another child, I also know that Conor will not suffer from MORE love in our family.  Sometimes it seems as though my mind is so intent on working overtime that it just must cover every possible thing there is to worry and obsess about until its exhausted all areas of concern.  Make sense?  Yea, not to me either. 

Here's another confession

C's beer fridge has been taken over by caffeine free Coke and Naked juice.  Bwahahahahaaa.  I like to make these little changes to his life while he's away at work, less emotional for him.  
Back to the issue of my insane worrying getting out of hand.  The other day I had a total meltdown.  My son  has developed a tic.  Seeing my son randomly and unintentionally start twitching his eye and "smiling" with only one side of his mouth has got to be the saddest sight.  When I first noticed it happening a lot I came to the tearful conclusion that something was terribly wrong, my mind started going to very dark places.  If you think my hypochondria for myself is bad, multiply it by 10 for when it comes to my child.
I promptly called his doctor and made an emergency appointment, to which we immediately all got dressed and drove the hour long drive for the doctor to confirm C's diagnosis.  Which was that it's basically just a thing some kids do, a tic.  Something that gets worse when he stressed out (he has a lot going on, needs a spa day) or tired.  
Had I been in a right state of mind, I would have evaluated the situation.  Seen that he obviously wasn't paralyzed in either side of his face, probably would have done a little research and then made an appointment for later in the week.  Instead my reaction was to fall about, have a panic attack, and RUSH to the doctor's office, all the while planning how I would deal with the all the intense tests that were sure to follow this visit.  
They need to make a pregnancy Xanax.  They can call it The Anti-Sarah, it's okay I don't mind, I'll take one for the team.  Literally.

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