On Sunday I didn’t love HW. Sure, in an abstract way I was committed to taking care of and providing for it, but at the time there was no practical way for me to emotional connect with lil’ foetus. Then we had our twenty week ultrasound Monday afternoon. You can read the whole story over here if you’d like. Short version:
Monday the ultrasound technician casually dropped the words “amniotic band” during our appointment. We didn’t think anything of it until googling it later that evening. Tuesday we got back in to talk to our doctor and he suggested that we see a specialist. Thankfully we got into see the specialist, Dr. Head, on Wednesday. Dr. Head, whom, incidentally, always makes me think of this, quickly discovered that there were no amniotic bands and that everything is just fine in utero.
This week was excruciating while also devastatingly happy. Monday/Tuesday/Wednesday we just felt so helpless — there was literally nothing we could do other than wait to hear what the doctors had to say. Everything — tv, people, work, inets — reminded me that some little thing inside my wife wasn’t safe and I couldn’t do anything about it. It was utterly depressing.
Wednesday morning I was distracted and nervous. Like, really really nervous. I couldn’t think and my chest felt constricted — for like four hours. I thought our best case scenario was going to be: “Well, we’ll keep an eye on it. Everything is fine for now.” But through some miracle we walked out of the specialist’s office with a healthy baby once again. And things were fantastic.
So I bought a huge beer and drank it to celebrate.
But somehow, through all of this utter shit, I’ve come out loving HW. Like really loving it. Nothing like a crucible of a terrible medical anomaly to sort your out feelings.
THAT'S RIGHT. FEELINGS. I'VE UPGRADED MY OPERATING SYSTEM TO INCLUDE THOSE. SOMETIMES THEY ARE INCONVENIENT. EOL. EOF.