baby shopping

At 18W, I finally broke down. It took me a while, and it still made me nervous, but I finally purchased my first item for the baby.

I guess I've been feeling superstitious about it. Like, if I buy something for him, then something horrible will go wrong and I'll be left with this sad momento.

I finally realized, if something does go horribly wrong (God forbid!), I will want a momento. I will pack up a little box of ultrasounds, test strips, journal entries, etc, and keep myself a memory box.

But that isn't why I bought this. I decided, I'm just about halfway there. It's time to let myself relax and enjoy this part of it! I've been really into most of the rest of my pregnancy - maternity clothes, food cravings, using my exhaustion to get out of things I don't want to do. ;-) But in this area, I was just scared.

I purchased the cutest little romper. It's a light blue, more on the green-blue side, but definitely blue. It's a onsie, but shorts, and it has white piping along the collar and sleeves. And in the front, monogrammed just for him, are his initials. Because while we're not sharing the name with everyone at this point, it's common knowledge what his initials will be, as it's a family tradition in DH's family.

It's so cute and tiny! Pulling it out of the box it came in, my heart just got all mushy and I made that "Aw!" sound that mommies make around cute little baby things. I showed DH, and said "He's going to be this little! We're going to get to dress him in this!"

Now that I've bought one thing, I think it will be easier to start getting everything ready for our new arrival.

recuperating

The husband is home and sleeping. Peacefully. Quietly. It makes me feel better. I took off the rest of the week, probably more for my sake than his. I'd feel better being here with him while he's in this state. And maybe I'm projecting - I know that I always feel comforted and calmer when he's around when I'm sick. Just his presence helps me feel less hopeless, less frantic. And someone needs to sit on him and keep him from getting up and doing stuff around the house. Seriously! He just had surgery! Why is THIS the time to scan in receipts for tax season? It can wait another week.

I had crazy dreams, though. Dreams of hospitals and blood. Dreams of caring for the invalid, and fighting to get prescriptions refilled, and bandaging wounds. Then, I had a dream that I went on a cruise around Africa and had a mad affair with a mysterious man on the boat... Not sure where that one came from. And somehow this cruise around Africa involved passage through the Bering Straight. Dreams. Go figure.

Super Tuesday, indeed

I voted today. And for the first time in my voting history, I was excited about it. I voted for someone I actually like, someone I admire, instead of the one I disliked less. I even registered with a party so I could vote in this particular election, casting aside my years of "decline to state" in order to have a voice in what is shaping up to be a very interesting election.

My poor husband, who is registered with the opposing party, was too weak from his surgery to make it to the polling place. I offered to go with him and help him, but he's just not up to it. I'm sad, even though we disagree politically. I could live with his candidate as president, and I'm pretty sure he'd be okay with mine.

I have hope for this country again. Even if my candidate doesn't win, we have choices. I face November with curiosity, not with dread. Days like this, it's good to be an American.

surgery sucks

Today sucked. We got there at 8 for an alleged outpatient surgery. They told me it was outpatient when we got there - I had expected him to spend the night. At 9 they told me that he'd be a couple of hours, and I could visit him in recovery at 11. They gave me a little pager, like they have at restaurants, so I'd know as soon as he was ready for me.

At 1:30 I asked what was going on, and after the guy at the outpatient lobby desk called a few people, I was informed that DH was still in recovery and was being admitted. They took my pager and sent me to the main lobby, told me to check in there and wait for the doctor.

So I checked in at the main lobby, they gave me a number and told me they'd call it as soon as they had any information for me, and I sat down, understandably concerned. Okay, concerned is putting it lightly. I freaked out. I mean, a doctor hadn't even spoken with me at this point, and it was several hours later than they'd said I could expect it to be. But I held it together until a could call a friend to talk me down. By now it was 2:30, and I ventured to get something to eat. Not far, and I checked at the desk before I left and when I came back, a span of five minutes, tops.

At 3:30, I grew worried and upset enough that I went back to the desk. Where they informed me that he'd been sent to his room at 1:30! WTF?! I was so upset, but more interested in getting to him than in tearing someone a new asshole.

Man, he did not look good. He was asleep, sitting up, head cocked to the side and mouth open. Big bandage taped to his nose and an IV in his arm, two black eyes. I was so relieved to see him, I started crying again. Of course that's when he woke up, and I didn't want him to think something had gone wrong so I explained that I had "just" been worried and was glad to see him.

No one seems to know what happened. I talked to the nurse, politely since it wasn't her fault, and told her that someone, somewhere, needed to be told not to keep a pregnant woman waiting for hours while her husband was in surgery. She was very sympathetic, but no one seems to know where the line of communcation failed. My job at that point, however, was not to track down someone to yell at. DH had been asking for me for hours, and I felt just awful for not being there. He thought I'd left. I told him I hadn't set foot outside the hospital, and was checking on him every hour.

So he's staying overnight, as I originally thought. Everything's fine, but they want to give him the good stuff for pain, so they're keeping him on an IV and a morphine drip. He managed to choke down half a jello and a lemon ice, then the morphine hit and he was out. I sat there for a few hours, just glad he was okay and being at peace just being with him.

As for last night, the silence lasted a couple of hours. I was damned if I was going to be the one to break it. He finally got sick of it, came out to the living room where I was standing at the door tyring to get our stupid cat to come inside, and just grabbed me in a hug. Of course I just burst into tears, and we had a good talk. We never fight for long, when we fight at all. But I hate it all the same, and I'm usually ready to make up quickly. I hate being out of communion with him.

Tonight I will go to bed early, exhausted from the day. It's strange how sitting still all day can be so draining. Emotions will do that, every time. I go back early tomorrow to wait in his room to take him home. I'm not waiting for them to tell me when to come back, I'm going back first thing. And if they lose him on me again, I'm tearing the place apart until I find the jackass responsible.

Oh. And the doctor still never made an appearance. I am not impressed.

unhealthy response to fear

Tomorrow my husband goes into the hospital for surgery. For the very first time in our relationship, I will have to take care of him. And I'm scared.

I'm used to him taking care of me. And as politically incorrect as it may sound, I like being taken care of by my big strong man. I have never seen him incapcitated or out of commission. He's always healthy and on the go.

He will spend tomorrow night in the hospital, and come home Tuesday. It's not the surgery itself that scares me. I've had this particular surgery myself, and though it sucks, it isn't life-threatening and he will be fine. What scares me is seeing him helpless in the hospital bed. Leaving him there for others to look after while I go home to my cozy bed. Seeing him go through the pain that I already know he's going to go through, and being unable to do anything about it.

So what do I do? I pick a fight with him, and now we're not speaking to each other. And when he tried to reach out to me, I told him I wasn't interested in talking to him and just kept reading my book. Then I went and sat in the bathroom and cried. Now I'm in the office typing this while he's in the family room. I'm surprised he hasn't asked me about dinner yet, but I'm not in the mood to be the one to break the silence. I'm afraid I'll only make things worse.

I had every intention of making today a good day for him, since the rest of his week is going to suck. We went to Costco to pick up some foods that will work for him after his surgery. I told him I'd make him anything he wanted for dinner, since it will be his last solid food for a while. I really wanted today to be good.

Instead, I've been a Class A Bitch. Don't get me wrong - my point was valid and it's something we need to work out. And he didn't respond in the best of ways. But today was not the day to deal with this, and the way I handled it was not healthy, and now we're both miserable. Yet somehow I feel like maybe I won't be so scared of tomorrow if I'm pissed off at him.

How twisted is that?