Delicate Condition

I worry too much. Particularly about random things that are likely never to happen. I create potential scenarios and play them out to their most unlikely and ridiculous anxiety-inducing conclusion. It does not make my life easy. My career in particular isn't suited to this sensibility.

For example, I had a "practice updo" on my books recently. A. Updos are a challenge for me and rife with opportunity for overthinking B. practice updos are almost universally scheduled by brides C. this client was not a bride (according to the receptionist who took the appointment.) These three knowns led me down a week-long path of obsessing about the unknowns and coming to my own crazytown conclusion. I was convinced I'd have to do some revolutionary and intricate technique like cornrow-pincurls on the bridesmaidzilla from hell.

Enter sweet, lovely and standard blowout-wanting mother-of-the-groom who just needed some help choosing a hair ornament and a fresh hair color. Really? I probably shortened my lifespan by about 2 hours with all the stress I unnecessarily created for myself over this situation. Ugh.

As you can imagine, being pregnant with my first child greatly exacerbates my condition. In this vein, I present to you a couple of my latest random anxiety-producing scenarios which range from semi-likely to quasi-likely to not a snowball's- chance-in-hell-likely:

-No one really looks at registries and all I will get at my showers are cutesy picture frames, clothes and stuffed animals (sans gift receipts), leaving Dave and I to spend thousands on much-needed items like crib mattress pads, my well-researched cloth diaper system and carseats.
-My labor will be so swift that we won't have time to get to the birth center, I'll be forced to deliver at a hospital, and my midwife won't get there in time, leaving me in the care of doctors and nurses I've never met and who won't listen to me.
-Someone will give the kid processed sugar before his 1st birthday leading to a downward spiral of candy-dependency, childhood obesity and a penchant for TV, video games and cheap plastic toys.
-my sex drive will never be the same.
-Laszlo will develop an extreme dislike for the kid and will start nipping (even though he's never even bared his teeth before).
-In 2012 when the government accidentally unleashes a lethal zombie-vampire virus, we'll be hiding from zombie-vampires in a closet and the kid will start coughing, threatening to give our hiding place away, and in a terrible, Sophie's Choice-esque moment I'll have to decide whether to smother my child or let everyone in the closet be eaten by zombie-vampires.
-People will sit too close to me when I breastfeed.

Oh, there's more. But I'll leave it at that lest I sound crazy.