A set of poems I likely won't turn in for my class, but which I wrote anyway:

Haiku on Airways and Postpartum Anxiety and Depression:

Appearance, Pulse, Grimace, Activity, and Respiration

My grey-blue baby
Failed her first apgar exam
But soon blossomed pink.

Robert Munsch Effect

Every night I crawl—
Ninja roll—to their bedside,
Assess their breathing.

Apnea Bradycardia

Premature infant—
I had to do CPR
Every time he nursed.

Palpitations
My heart trips, scatters
Clattering heartbeats along
A long empty hall.

Laryngomalacia

When my baby breathed
He honked like a goose flying
South for the winter.

Globus hystericus I

Pharyngeal phantom—
A bolus causing distress,
Engineered by stress.

Transient Tachypnea

She failed to absorb
Her amniotic fluid;
Choked on it for days.

Globus hystericus II

There is nothing stuck
In your pharynx. Just relax;
It’s psychogenic.

Bodies are seriously so weird. I have been feeling for weeks now like I have a lump stuck in my throat. It felt as if a pill was lodged in my throat or like I was holding back tears even though I wasn't (or maybe I had been and simply didn't realize it and exhausted my throat muscles?). But there was nothing wrong with my throat. Not really.

It wasn't sore, just disconcerting.

There was no lump, and yet there was a lump.

It wasn't difficult to swallow or breathe or talk or anything.

It was super annoying.

So I looked up my symptoms to chase away fears of throat cancer or thyroid issues. Again, doctor friends have warned me not to look up symptoms online because I'll always find something worse than what the issue probably is (it's always cancer). But here's the thing, Doctor Friends, my brain has already jumped to the worst case scenario. Looking things up has rarely made things worse than what my anxious little mind can conjure.

So, anyway, I looked up my symptoms and stumbled upon "globus pharyngis," which is simply the feeling of having something lodged in your throat even though nothing is wrong in your throat. Frequently attributed to anxiety and/or depression, it's like your body is saying, "Since you're so good at feeling anxious, we'll throw in a little feeling-like-you're-choking-all-the-time as a treat. But don't worry! You're not choking; it'll just feel like it."

Thanks, body, for coming up with that. Genius move.

I told Andrew about it last night and, as it turns out, naming the beast has tamed the beast, because I woke up feeling just fine this morning.

As my mom said, at least my body seems smart enough to let go of things once my mind was aware it was purely psychogenic. Here's hoping it stays away.