So much...

The past couple of weeks have been nothing but constant activity. I've felt like I was on some sick ride that just wouldn't stop. Like when you go to those cheap carnivals and you know that the people running the rides are murders and stuff, just using the carnival get up as a way to travel from town to town, but anyways...I digress.

The activity started when I stayed home from work one day last week, I was not feeling well and my ankles were swollen. The only real remedy anyone could offer was for me to keep off my feet. So, I thought I'd have a relaxing day at home. WRONG. I settled in to take a nap when the dogs began barking like there were cats on parade in the house. They could smell the smoke. An arson investigator knocked on my door and told me to come out of my building. Apparently, someone had tried to set fire to the building in the basement. Yes, fire. Flames. Fumes. Smoke. Fire. In. My. Building. Where. I. Lay. Sleeping.

I of course had a panic attack and immediatley began the ever-so-dangerous what-if-game: What if I hadn't gotten up? What if my floors would have burned? What if this had of happened when I wasn't at home and the dogs couldn't have gotten out? What if this happened once the baby was born? What if there is a crazy pyromaniac in the neighborhood?

Once H came home, which felt like it took forever, but was actually only 10 or 15 minutes after I'd been asked to come out of the apartment, I just melted. We decided instantly that come hell or high water we were moving out.

Now enters next chaos, where are we gonna live? We've got 8 weeks until the baby comes and only 12 weeks in a lease.

No, that's not all of it. The next day I return to work, trying to catch up and get a phone call from my cousin. My grandma has been taken to the hospital. She's blacked out while driving and they don't know whats wrong with her. I panick again. Rushing out of the buildign and to the hospital I start the what-if-game again: What if she's not conscious? What if she had a stroke? What if she can't see forever? What if she isn't breathing on her own? What if I can't get to the hospital in time?

I make it to the hospital about 30 minutes later to find her wide-awake in the ER. Smiling and reassuring me she's just fine. The doctors say that want to keep her for observation, but they can't figure out what made her black out the way she did. She stays over night, more tests, more blood more, more waiting. And the next day I go back to the hospital to visit her and she's been told that they've found two suspicious spots on her scans. They can't say for sure what it is, but they do say the dirtiest word-cancer. They have to say it, or at least thats what they tell us, they have to warn us. It will be 5 days before we know for sure. She is in the hospital all weekend and dreads every moment of it, we all do. Our granny is the most active person I know and its hard to see her sit in a hospital bed, even harder to see her not know whats coming next. Finally, there is relief when the biopsy results come back and she's released, no cancer.

Now, a cooling down moment, I'm feeling better for us. But then, alas, the ride is not over, no, the carnival man has decided I should go yet another round. At my doctor's visit this week he announces that he thinks I have hypertension and that I could possibly be induced. Induced. In other words, a scheduled deliveray. My blood platelle count is also low, possibly another sign that I have hypertension or it could be thats my norm. More tests to come. I heard these words and yet again started the what-if-game: What if the induction doesn't take? What if it means I have to stay in bed and can't move around and do my yoga? What if I bleed and can't stop? What if the baby doesn't respond well to the induction? What if my uterus explodes? What if I can't take the pain? What if something happens to the baby?

The doctor reassures me that the baby is just fine and that there is still a chance I could go into labor on my own and not have to worry about any of this. I also learn that platelles dip a bit when you are pregnant and that if mine were severly low, they'd have but me on bedrest. Relax, everyone says, you are in good hands.

What if....to me, these are two of the most dangerous words in the English language when put togther. They can rip your brain and heart apart in seconds. Moving from one emotion to another was hard for me, but I think even harder because of the pregnancy. But there is something I realized through each of these events. I've got to let go of the what-if-game. I don't have any control over any of the above situations. All I can do is let God take care of us. Really, not to sound preachy here, but thats what I'm learning. As much as I'd like to think I'm in control of everything, I am not. I repeat: I AM NOT IN CONTROL OF EVERYTHING. I feel like I should write that 100x over.

So now, whats on my agenda:

Let it go.
Let it go.
Let it go.