The Worry-Lympics

I once read a post on another blog about The Pain Olympics.

It was a terrific post, breaking down emotional pain into point systems and categories based on length of time in pain, severity of incident, etc, and eventually concluding that everyone's pain is unique and valid, and simply could not be compared quantitatively.

I'm going to demonstrate my superior skills in reading comprehension and miss the point entirely to declare that thanks to Whatever Almighty, I would not even medal in the Pain Olympics. I've had one early first-trimester pregnancy loss, which was indeed painful, but in the grand scheme of things, I am the Eric Moussambani of the Pain Olympics, with zero aspiration to become Michael Phelps.

The Worry-Lympics, on the other hand, are my kind of games. I am the Jenny Thompson of the Worry-Lympics, and have none other than my little Pi to thank for being the source and inspiration of all my astonishing accomplishments on this global stage. To wit:

August 2004 - May 2005 - The Games of the Pregnancy Worr-lympiad

Bronze Medal - Food Police - "OMG I ate a chocolate from that Whitman's sampler that had RUM in it - I spit it out immediately, but I'm sure my baby's brain-damaged now."

Silver Medal - High Maintenance Patient - "Hi Midwife Kathy, umm listen, I noticed that my left breast feels much less sore today at 2:00 pm than it did yesterday at 8:00 am. My right breast is still sore, but I'm still kind of anxious - do you think I could come in this afternoon for a quick ultrasound check?"

Gold Medal - Self-Fulfilling Prophecy - "OK, Kathy said at my 38-week appointment that if I went past 40 weeks the baby would probably be too big and we'd have to do a c-section. That's it, I'm getting cut."


May 22, 2005 - September 2005 - The Games of the Newborn Worr-Lympiad

Bronze Medal - Sleep - "OK, so that book said that if I don't get him into bed by the time he yawns three times, the naptime will be completely jacked. I know he just woke up, but I think that was a yawn - that's one. Wait, was that another one? OK, here we go, back to naptime. Why is he screaming?"

Silver Medal - Food - "He only nursed for five minutes on this breast and then ten minutes on the other one. He's pooped seven times today, and shot pee onto the window blinds every time I've changed a poopy diaper, but I don't think he's getting enough."

Gold Medal - Development - "Dr M, three-month-old Pi kicks his legs repeatedly every time he lays down on his back - do you think that's an early sign of autism?"


May 22, 2006 - Present - The Games of the Toddler Worr-Lympiad

Bronze Medal - Teeth - "He's 15 months old - why is he not getting his molars? Everyone else all over the world with babies the same age has talked about molars! Where are his molars, for Pete's sake?" Note - he got his first one three days after I spewed this medal-winning worry onto my poor, unsuspecting office friend. At 3:00 am on the third day of cutting this tooth, the sound of me kicking my own behind for wishing this upon myself could be heard 'round the world.

Silver Medal - Walking - "He's been standing and cruising since he was seven months old. He's almost a year now - why isn't he walking? Does he have inner ear problems? Can he not balance himself? His pinky toe on the left curls under his foot - could that be why he won't walk?" Note - again, one week after this crazed tirade, Pi toddled away from me and hasn't looked back. And again, I can't believe I wished for this.

Gold Medal - Talking - "Why doesn't he talk? He kind of repeats things we say, but there's no consistency, and I can count on one hand the number of times he's asked for things by name. I know that language he's using means something to him, but I simply cannot figure it out. Aren't mothers supposed to be fluent in their own Toddler-ese? OK, the countdown is on - if he isn't using words I can understand by 18 months, we're going to early intervention." Note: if the above patterns continue, I'm in for it big time in a week or so. Listen for the sound of my foot meeting my ass, over and over and over again.

So there it is - my Worry-Lympics box score. This is my life now. More stunning feats of worry prowess to come in the upcoming Pre-School, Driver's Ed, and College Application Games.