They have formed their own 4-H club - the hopeless, hysterical hypochondriacs of history

It's six twenty in the morning, and I can't sleep anymore because of the raging itchiness, so I decided to get up, eat some breakfast, and blog while Jason and Lucie are still sleeping. I've been trying to figure out which pregnancy condition I have that could be causing the frantic scratching, and, based on some extensive internet research, I've decided that I have ICP, a rare liver disorder that can occasionally cause premature or still birth and would cause my pregnancy to become labeled high risk. (Hey, I like a little drama in my life) Seriously, though, those online symptom checkers could make a person insane. You don't have to try all that hard to turn a cold into cancer, heartburn into congestive heart failure, or some pregnancy-related itchiness into a genetic liver condition. I bet doctors rue the day WebMD was created. Now they not only have to diagnose the illness, but they have to fight with lay people about whether or not their diagnosis is accurate.

"Well, Mrs. Featherbottom, it looks like a nasty upper respiratory infection. It's viral, so I can't prescribe anything. Just rest and drink lots of fluids."
"Dr. McMedschoolpants, you know this is the third cold I've had this fall."
"Er, well, yes... it is cold season..."
"And I've been really tired lately, and last night I had night sweats. And look at this bruise on my arm!"
"Well, a cold would explain the fatigue and sweating. And I'm not sure where you're going with the bruise...."
"Isn't it obvious, Doctor? I have leukemia! Get me a blood test right away!"
"I think that would be unnecessary. One bruise is really nothing to.."
"I HAVE LEUKEMIA!! WEBMD SAID SO!!! DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE?!"
"Oh for the love..."

I can't wait to inform my midwife about my delicate medical condition on Monday. She's going to LOVE me!

In other medical news, Lucie fell off of a chair the other day. She screamed for awhile, and then just stopped and started to nod off. She wouldn't talk to me at all, and she just kind of stared off into space. Convinced that her brain was bleeding, I flipped out, started sobbing, and called the doctor in a hysterical stupor. I think the nurse sensed the crazy, because she told me to bring her in just to be sure. I grabbed all of our stuff and ran out the door, leaving Lucie's shoes behind. She kept falling asleep on the way, so I kept tapping her and screaming things like "Stay with me!!!" We got to the doctor's office, and Lucie was still pretty dazed as I carried her in. However, the second we walked in the door, she looked at the fish tank and announced, "Fish!! Bubbles!!" She then pointed at her bare feet and asked, "Shoes?" She continued to perk up, and by the time the doctor saw us, she was well enough to squirm and whine about being examined. The doctor gave her a few stickers, and that seemed to cure her completely. She walked out of the office happily telling everyone about the stickers the nice doctor gave her. The doctor told me that sometimes kids can scare themselves into a dazed state, and that all of the screaming that immediately followed the fall probably wore her out. Good to know.

So, to summarize, I am a crazy mother, and my liver is slowing killing me and my baby.