PANIC! At the Neighbor's

A funny thing happened last Friday afternoon. I was reading my emails, puttering along, and I got a birthday letter that got me a little worked up.

And then I had a panic attack.

I thought, for a moment, that maybe I was having a heart attack. My chest got tight, my heart was racing, I felt like I might vomit, and then I got so dizzy I had to lay down on the floor and wait for it to pass.

Weird, right?

But I figured, hey, these things happen. I'm so full of hormones that eTrade commercials (you know the ones - with the creepy talking baby) have been known to make me mist up, and I might have been self-medicating my stress with.. you know... copius amounts of Amish Fudge.

Then yesterday I took the boys to playgroup next door. And, standing in the middle of my neighbor's kitchen, I felt my face flush, choked mid-sentence, and looked down to be sure my heart wasn't leaping from my chest with all that pounding. I excused myself from the conversation with a pitiful croak and went to seek solace on the couch.

So! Panic attacks. Fun new pregnancy symptom! Apparently 50 percent or so of pregnant women experience them. This statistic makes sense to me for first time mothers, because that first pregnancy is so fraught with anxiety about the baby: Will it have 2 of each appropriate limb? Will that little heart keep beating? What about those oh-so-edible toes - will they be perfect as they should?

But this is my third kid, people. I'm over the scary first trimester, all is well with our little lemon-size baby, and I'm not worried about the pregnancy in the least. So why the panic attacks? Well, apparently caffeine and sugar can trigger them. Okay, so no more coffee for me and I'll cut back on that (*sniffle*) Amish Fudge. I'm giving this sucker a week. Any more of these unwelcome episodes, though, and I'm going to have to have a serious heart-to-heart chat with my fetal tenant. In fact, let's have a warm-up right now.

Hello, there, kid. Hey, listen - your dad and I are ecstatic that you're on your way and all, and your brothers have promised only to give you noogies after your skull plates have sufficiently fused so as not to give you, like, brain damage and stuff... But we're gonna have to talk about these panic attacks. You see, I'M not worried about you. I have my suspicions about your gender, which would explain why YOUR anxiety might be leaking over to me. But rest assured, kiddo, that all will be well. You just enjoy your next 5 months in there where it's all nice and warm and dark, and I promise that when you come out I'll let you rule the roost for a little while. All the milk you can drink, a fresh diaper every time you look like you MIGHT be thinking about transacting some business into one, and as many snuggles as you can demand.

For now, though, baby? Please to be stopping with the giving of the panic attacks. Really. One day, I might even buy you a pony! Wouldn't you like a pony?

Sincerely,
Yo Mama.