I am not a worrier by nature. I mean, I'm not completely oblivious to the world around me, but I am adept at sweeping my everyday apprehensions under the mental rug.
However, my natural inclinations are trumped by pregnancy. From the moment of conception through the fourth trimester, I am ridden with anxiety. About everything. I can't have a good time amongst family or friends without wondering who's going to drop dead before we get together again. I can't listen to the news without my imagination turning every typhoon, car accident and prediction by Ben Bernanke into a personal disaster. Each edition of NPR's All Things Considered convinces me that the Apocalypse is that much closer.
It's logical that pregnancy forces one's thoughts to turn inward. Worrying isn't the only manifestation--the introspection also engenders a greater understanding of parts of oneself not often recognized, and it heightens the bond with the developing fetus. So, it is logical, yes, and healthy, yes; but this constant inward gaze strikes me as supremely uncomfortable. I don't like to dwell in my subconscious, or my heart, or my gut. It's too consuming. I prefer to interact with other human beings in an engaging way. I like to be witty and responsive. I like to be fully functional at face level.
Still, it's only a few years in the grand scheme of things. So what if I feel like the friends I'm making in my new town aren't getting to know the real me. So what if, while my physical form takes on added dimensions, my personality loses some.
I know I'm not myself. I'm somebody deeper, where a completely new person is getting ready to emerge.