You know those stories about men who pass out in the delivery room while their wife is having a baby? Weird, right?
Well, I get it now.
I'm about to share something gross, so if you have delicate sensibilities you should move on to another blog.
I took Curtis to his post-op appointment with his surgeon today. We were really looking forward to this because he's had a drain on his abdomen for over a week and it was time to have it taken out. Thank God.
(By the way, we went for a walk the other day and Curtis didn't want to tuck the drain into his shorts because it hurt. So in order to protect the public from having to see it, he covered it with foil. Because that's inconspicuous.)
We went in the examination room and there was this humongous, ominous chair. We got to stare at it for 15 minutes while we waited. Then the surgeon came in - whom it turns out is quite a dude - and Curtis was able to ask the big question. Is this going to hurt? The doc indicated that it would not be a pleasant experience - perhaps a 3 or 4 on the pain scale.
Curtis had to climb into the chair. I wasn't going to look. Things like that make me weak in the stomach. You'd think I would be better since having children, but no. I'm much worse now.
So there I was, looking away. Far, far away. And then I heard a horrible groan from Curtis. Instinctively, I looked toward him and had the misfortune of seeing a 12 inch long tube coming out of his body. All the while he was letting out the most dreadful sound I've ever heard.
Doc underestimated the pain scale by several points. We were both in shock - Curtis in physical shock, I in emotional shock.
I felt like I'd just seen my husband deliver a baby. He felt like he'd just been in a scene from Alien. (Or Alient, as Jackson would say.) Either way? Gross.
So I didn't pass out, but now I can totally understand why some husbands lose consciousness in the delivery room.
Speaking of childbirth, I'm starting to feel panicky about Annabeth being a toddler. For one thing, I'm not sure I'm ready to go through the 18-36 month age again. And then there's the fact that when I see other people with infants, all I can think is, "I don't have one of those anymore! Why don't I have one of those anymore?"
One day, like today for example, and I cannot believe I'm saying this, I feel desperate to have another baby. Like, I need a newborn. I even miss nursing and everything. (What?!?! I know!) We have a very large guest room and I can't help imagining turning it into something like this.
But tomorrow I'll feel like I absolutely, positively can NEVER be pregnant again and that it would be insane to bring another child into our family. Insane, I tell you! And I can't imagine puking for three months while being in charge of our two other children. And the weight gain? And the you-know-what's of doom that would be present almost overnight? Ugh.
Is it normal to feel very hot and cold about this?