So, I visited. I bit the bullet. I bought the plane tickets. I flew with a busy toddler. I visited. I flew home with a busy toddler. I’m still somewhat exhausted, but in that very good and very fulfilled way. And we didn’t do much of anything spectacular; we just visited!

This is not to say that my anxiety did not play a part in how I acted/reacted or that it didn’t get in the way at times. I did. However, it was managable even if, deep down, I still wish that it didn’t have an effect on anything. One evening, I just had to get quiet and watch events take place for a bit while I did some breathing and mentally escaped to a quiet place. (Our kids? Together? Are loud.) And then the day that BigBrother was whinier than whiny? Well, I just had to suck it up and be a Mommy even if my insides were cringing as I thought, “Ohnoeees, they’re going to realize that I’m a HORRID parent because I get overwhelmed when BigBrother is overly whiny and then they’ll think that I’m a bad influence on Munchkin and they’ll cancel all of our future visits and ohnoeeeees.” Yeah, anxiety does crap like that to your mental state of being. It’s thrilling.

That said, I did my best to suck it up and deal. Because, right now? The anxiety isn’t going to magically lift. I had this naive hope that at the end of the first trimester, I would magically feel the weight lift from my shoulders and begin the easy and carefree part of pregnancy. Pfft, what a dream world I was trying to live in. To be honest, the anxiety is somewhat (as in much) more managable than it was when it hit me like a Mac truck on a deserted highway. But it’s still present. I’ve got another twenty-four weeks (to twenty-six if this child decides, “Hey! I’m even more stubborn than YOU!”) of pregnancy. That’s another twenty-four weeks of dealing with the anxiety. I cannot and will not let it make me sit in my home, avoid those that I love and thus confuse them to no end and otherwise just waste a year of my life.

And so, visiting with anxiety is somewhat difficult. It’s hard to put those fears and icky-things aside, properly parent my (ohsowhiny) son and try to get some proper bonding time in with my daughter. And then of course, I always want to make sure that I have enough time to just “hang” with D, just as two friends (which we did get to do one evening thanks to appropriately timed bed times and a J willing to stay at the house with all three (sleeping) kids). It’s hard to not let the anxiety take over my thoughts of how to do this next and that later and what to do if x, y or z occurs. But I did it.

I did it.

I don’t know if we’ll make it back out there before the end of this pregnancy. (Remember, added on top of my anxiety, I’m also high risk. Joy.) However, plans are in the works for a visit from the lot of them to our humble abode. The good side of that is when they visit us, my loving Husband is around to help me keep my anxiety in check. He’s a godsend in that arena.

And, of course, an obligatory picture. (We didn’t take many for some reason.)

I think tomorrow I’ll write about THE pregnancy discussion. Talk about anxiety!

I have real, legitimate posts coming with real, legitimate content. However, we’ve just returned to Ohio and after ten days of travel, parties and general schedule-crushing mayhem, my mind is mush and BigBrother is not exactly the pleasant kid that I am used to dealing with everyday. Here’s hoping that tomorrow brings some sanity. For now? Thanks to Judy, we have pseudo-content!

That’s right. My seal is bright freaking pink with even more pink lettering. What does the symbol mean? Well, amusingly in an ironic twist of humor, it was filed under religion, under the title of “Virigin Mary.” Now, now. Before you think I’m raising myself to the same level as the Blessed Mother, read into what the latin phrase at the bottom is saying.

“From the bottom of my heart.”

If you look at the symbol, it seems as though there is a sword piercing through the bottom of my heart. Ah, it’s all very deep and symbolic and over my own head. Basically, I chose the Latin phrase because the saying within our own family is “always in my heart.” Munchkin is always in my heart; the top, middle AND bottom of it. And, then I went looking for a symbol to throw in the middle. This one fit. For many many many reasons. As we know that adoption is not a happy go lucky trip through rainbow land for me, the whole sword piercing a heart seems somewhat appropriate. It seems somewhat visually on target.

And you just can’t have enough pink in your life. (Unless you are sufficiently covered in green which is quickly becoming my NEW favorite color but still.)

Basically, I don’t have enough brain power to sort through some of the stuff that happened on our visit or on other travels this past week so you just get this. The end.

(PS - Your Turn.)