Sleepless in Toronto

CC enjoying herself during our absence

As I begin penning this post, I have been back in Montreal for three days. I thought it would have seemed like an eternity, but our long week-end in Toronto actually flew by. My sister and mother were continuously updating me with real-time photos and texts about the baby's activities. The baby seemed to have had a great time in their company; my guess is a few more days, and she would have forgotten completely about her mama and papa.

During waking hours, I did not have much anxiety. The photos, texts, and e-mails were very reassuring; and of course I knew she was in two sets of loving, caring, and experienced hands. The night was a different story.  Despite ingesting 50mg of Gravol on my first two nights in Toronto, my sleep was at best erratic.  I have come to the conclusion that I was anxious on a subconscious level.  How long will this last?, I ask myself. Will I still be anxious right up until my baby grows up and starts a family of her own?

I thought of my own mom, or "worry wart" as we called her growing up, as she would constantly agonize over my two sisters and I. She watched the news daily, and stories about kidnapped children fuelled her over-active imagination. We weren't allowed to partake in after-school activities, as this would only add to her anxiety. The school field trips we attended were infrequent. Neither were we allowed to attend any birthday parties. After about 20 years, my mother's anxiety seemed to diminish somewhat, and she even adapted to certain situations. I moved out when I was 21 so that I could live in close proximity to my medical school. She insisted on staying over the first three days and nights, but then slowly found her way back to her own house. During my residency, we would sometimes not speak for several days due to my irregular schedule. But then one day, I received a page at two in the morning. She said that I had not answered my phone, and that she had grown worried. I explained that I was on call, in the hospital, and unable to get to my home phone. I remember refusing to take any of my mom's calls for an entire week after this incident; this type of operant conditioning labeled extinction may work on some people, and many lab rats, but not so much on my mom.

A case in point, as recently as a few weeks ago, I had gone to the gym one evening while my husband enjoyed the baby's company. I had begun charging my phone before leaving, and neglected to take it with me. Upon my return home, my husband mentioned that he had received a text from my mom. I was not answering my phone, and she had gotten anxious.

Am I becoming my mother?, I ask myself. Will I ever learn to sleep again without relying on chemical agents? Growing up, I found my mother's anxiety stifling. While I have no plans to follow in her footsteps, I now comprehend her overbearing concern.