So, here's a very nurturing headline I came across today on a "parenting" website:

"Pregnancy-related deaths on the rise."

Wow. That got my attention. That's definitely "gotcha" journalism. How could I not click on the link to find out why chances of dying during birth are going up? The article was tamer than the headline suggests. Basically, more at-risk and obese women are giving birth. I also noted that increased C-sections have helped the death statistics rise. Sweet.

This isn't helping me with my vow to focus on the positive, which is just flat out not my M.O.

Last night, for example, dear Sadie woke up crying about 5 times during the night. We could tell by 8:00 p.m. it was going to be one of those nights-- up a lot, wondering what is wrong with Sadie, trying to comfort her or medicate her or somehow make it easier for everyone to get some sleep. After her third cry out in her sleep, I felt the cloud of defeat wash over me. "Oh, we are screwed," I said to Jeff. My thinking was that if she was already so uncomfortable after 2 hours of sleep, it was only going to get worse. Jeff, ever my opposite, laughed because he was about to say that she would soon settle down and we'd all have a good night.

The truth was somewhere in between. I got up with Sadie at midnight and she just seemed uncomfortable, but not feverish and I didn't detect any vomit. There were a few more cries in the night, but the back half was better. I accept my often-negative spin on things, though I wish I could have a little more positive energy as my initial go-to. I just don't. I'm a fretter, a perseverator, and I really hate it when I can't tell how the sleep is going to go.

She slept until 7:00 a.m., which was a nice treat, and she seems to be suffering from nothing more serious than a common cold. For such a little person, you should see the amount of snot she can produce. I couldn't believe it. We went through about 6 tissues in the first 28 minutes of her day. I actually have no one but myself to blame for this situation. We had a playdate scheduled and other mother responsibly told me that her son was a little sniffly. Jeff and I mulled over the possibilities: stay home or chance the playdate. We went for it. The problem with that reasoning is that now Sadie has to suffer because she's the one who is under the weather. And, to tell you the truth, I was suffering a little last night hearing her cry and wondering if we could go more than 2 hours without a shrill screech from her.

Living and learing is an exhausting process.

Now, back to worrying whether this pregnancy is going to kill me.

Cheers!