worry.

i've always been a worrier. always. as long as i can remember. if i can't think of anything to worry about, i'll make something up. invent it. pull it from thin air. and then begin to worry.

it keeps me up at night. it gives me headaches during the day.

this rash. i'm completely worried about it. i know, i know...it's just a rash, you say. but no, it's not "just a rash" to me. it's a weird, red rash that won't go away. it's been a week...and in hannah-land, a week is like a year to normal people.

i called a pediatric dermatology clinic today. at children's hospital. and do you know when the next available appointment is? guess...well, most likely..you were wrong.

AUGUST!

august, people. august!!!! that is five months away! FIVE!!!!

i started crying on the phone with the guy that makes appointments. he said august something..i can't remember the exact date because i was stuck on the first part. and i just started crying. big crying. "ugly crying" as oprah calls it. i tried to hide it in my voice, but it was impossible. he asked me if i needed medical assistance. i said yes, i did. and my child did too. because he had a "freakin red (and i think i used a bad word here that starts with an "a") rash that wouldn't go away and apparently so does every other child in little rock and the surrounding area!"

before he said anything in response to my craziness, i began sobbing and apologized for my behavior. he said he understood...his exact words were, "i understand ms. hannah. it's hard being a mother."

i wanted to crawl through the phone. give him a hug. ask him to come over and maybe watch lifetime with me this afternoon. how did he know exactly how i felt? how did he know EXACTLY what to say?

i have to say that i know that this isn't life threatening. i know, i know. but it's dreadful. and it's not getting any better. and the not knowing is killing me. i have a doctor's appt with the pediatrician tomorrow. he the sweetest man in the world. and i hope and pray that he has seen this before and he will know just what it is. and even if there is nothing i can do about it...except wait...at least i'll know what it is. at least, i can stop googling things like, "rash on 6 month old" and "can a 6 month old die from rash". yes, i'm horrible. and neurotic. but i really hate not knowing. how do FOUR doctors at children's hospital not know what something is? it's 2009. i've seen those dermatology books. yes, they're thick...but come on. isn't there some sort of flow chart for rashes?

and on top of all this, there is little pratt. staring away at me. like yesterday in the grocery store. i was so worried about him. about if i was spreading this unknown twilight zone rash to all of kroger. and my mind is in a million different places. and i happen to look down at him in his carseat. and he just looks up at me and beams. ear to ear.

and i just stopped.

it hit me that every.single.thing i do affects him in some way. good or bad. it does. and here i am, all self absorbed in my craziness and there he is...just waiting on me to look at him. let him know that he's okay because i'm okay.

he reads me so well. i can only remember a few times in my childhood when i knew something was wrong. wrong with my parents. looking back on this, i find that remarkable. they so seldomly let on that they were struggling. be it with finances or their relationship or whatever. i was with my mom every single day before i went to school. how did she keep this from me?

it's no secret that i've struggled with sadness since high school. it's been worse at times. and better at times. right now, things are good. i mean, there are bad days that i can't always shake...but overall, things are really good.

but i worry about how i'm affecting him. how he's reading me. what he's thinking. if he knows that we really are great. that even when his mom has a bad day, he's going to be fine. he'll be fed, and dressed, and played with. read to. everything will be exactly the same for him.

i'm sorry for this post. or rant. or whatever you want to call it. it's only 1155, and it's not been a very good day thus far.

i'll make my dad proud and say that i know that this isn't really a big deal in the grand scheme of things. there are babies out there with much bigger problems than a rash. i know. i know. and so i'll stop complaining. and remember that we have our health. and that we really are okay.

well, pratt is. i'm not. i'm crazy. but i've never, ever claimed to be normal. and i'm pretty sure that is my dad's fault. because his side of the family is the crazy side.

hey...i'm just saying...if the shoe fits, right?