The world of the pregnant woman is an ever-interesting world to be a part of. This past week, my parents had plans to come over and assist in assembling a brand new crib for our forthcoming bouncing baby boy.
They arrived on time that evening, pizza in hand, about half an hour after Amy should have arrived home from work… but she wasn’t home yet. As we sat down to dinner without her (afterall, “the pizza’s getting cold!”), I assumed she just got held up at work and that I might receive a text message from her at any minute informing me of her late dismissal from work.
Suddenly, with a mouth full of delicious dough, tomato sauce and melting cheese, I looked down at my cell as it buzzes with a greeting that let’s me know it’s most likely my wife. She offers an innocent and unsuspecting greeting, and I reply with a similar one and go back to my delightful dinner. The next buzz from the phone was a photo…. of her in a hospital bed. I look a the image… enlarge it… sit back… and show the picture to my parents. They gasp and immediately start asking me questions… as if I had all the answers from the moment I looked at the ambiguous and haunting image.
To make a long and arduous story short, Amy – who is an OR nurse – had been getting a lot of contractions lately, still two months shy of her due date and ended up being admitted to the hospital (where she works) to be monitored closely. We went ahead with tearing apart the gigantic cardboard boxes and assembling little William’s crib, while Amy texted with us back and forth before she drifted off to sleep. Thankfully, both her and the baby are fine and she came home the next afternoon, but it was quite the scare for us (despite, quite honestly and somewhat oddly, me having a strange peace about it all?).
This week will be another ultrasound check-up (just a scheduled one), as we continue to wait to fill the little munchkin’s nursery… with his little, noisy, stinky self. 😉