What a Weekend

It all started last Monday. TH has talked about getting lasik for a looong time. We had always planned on it being his 30th birthday present. I saved up a little money in secret for him because I knew when it came down to it he would have a hard time spending so much on himself. Well, on one of our nightly walks, we talked about it some more. I told him about the money saved. We talked about our budget and how it would not likely improve after having kids. We talked about how much he hates his glasses and how frequently baby girl would pull them from his face, stick them in her mouth, etc. And finally, finally he agreed meet with a doctor for a screening. I told him if he was going to get it done, it needed to be this week. I may be crazy for letting him get major eye surgery only 3 weeks shy of my due date, but at least I drew the line somewhere! He had his consultation on Tuesday evening, and before we left we were signing the papers--surgery was scheduled for Friday at noon!

Number 1 thing to worry about this weekend: making sure my husband suffers no complications from major eye surgery leaving him blind and unable to see our new baby.

Wednesday we had what is more than likely our last softball game. He and I have been playing on a co-ed team for years, and though I haven't played in, oh, about nine months, it has still been a chance for us to get together and visit with our friends, something I KNOW would fall by the wayside of our busy lives if it weren't a set event. The very first inning TH went in, he had a hard bouncing grounder hit straight at him. It took a nasty bounce at his feet and hit his right middle finger straight on before bouncing up and smacking him in the chest. He quickly corraled the whirling dervish and tossed it to second for the out. Then he stopped and looked at his finger, which was squirting blood with each pulse like a scene from a cheap horror flick. The ball had separated his nail from his nail bed. I let him try ice and bandaids for the first night/day (he's not a "let's see what the doctor says" kind of guy), but when, 24 hours later, it was still oozing blood, I forced a trip to a walk-in urgent care clinic (much to his chagrin) where one tetnus shot and one x-ray later we were told it was broken. We left with said finger bandaged into a finger splint and strict instructions to leave on the splint for six weeks.

Number 2 thing to worry about this weekend: TH being unable to help me with the final prep work we have to do to get ready for baby girl, not to mention being able to support me through labor and delivery, not to mention concern that the finger incident would somehow negatively impact the eye surgery scheduled for two days later.

Ran over a frog in our neighborhood on the way home. Cue pregnant lady meltdown.

TH, true to form, always feels better when he's taking care of me and not focusing on his own problems. He "coached" me through my meltdown (thank God for that Bradley class!), put me to bed, and then did the dishes just to prove his broken finger wouldn't get in the way of him helping out.

So, going into the weekend, there were literally about 48 hours in which I could NOT go into labor. I needed him to be able to drive me to the hospital. I needed his finger not to be hurting him so badly that he couldn't help me with the process. I needed his parents and my dad not to come into town and see his broken finger and eye covers, as they are being kept blissfully ignorant of both events.

Friday: eye-surgery. The process literally took 20 minutes. A lifetime of bad vision wiped away in 20 minutes. They had him on valium, so he was plenty woozy on the way home and took a nice, long nap afterward. When he woke up, five hours post-op, he looked at me through his clear plastic eye shields and said, "I can see you. You're not fuzzy." Mental tally: eye-surgery worth every penny.

Saturday: First day without eye shields. Though his scleras are a little bruised, TH checked out with 20/20 vision at his 9 a.m. check-up. I headed to San Marcos to meet my dad for lunch and visit with my grandparents, leaving TH to hang out with his brother. Back home, we built a shelf for the bathroom, assembled our pack-and-play, started packing our hospital bag, and were about to go on a walk when I felt a sharp, shooting pain in my lower abdomen. Ow. What the hell was that? We nixed the walk and I sat on the couch while TH fixed dinner. Sharp shooting pain decided to return about every, oh, 10 minutes. I focused on relaxing, reminding my body and my daughter that we were still well within our 48-hour window of THIS CANNOT HAPPEN. We watched 17 Again, which was actually better than I thought it would be. I apologized to my body for being so busy that day, for being so wound up. Fell asleep on the couch.

Sunday: today. After a fitful night, I am delighted to report that sharp shooting pain has subsided, TH's eyes are healing right on track, and TH's finger swelling and bleeding have dissapated! The weekend shaped up much better than I feared (as is typically the case with fears). I am chalking aforementioned pain up to my stress levels about the weekend events. I am not thinking of them not as contractions--they weren't affecting my entire stomach, just the lower abdomen--but as cramps. Stress cramps if you will.

We now have all of today and all of tomorrow (TH decided to take Monday off with me as a sick day!) to focus on healing one of our bodies and keeping the other as relaxed and hydrated as possible.

So baby girl, you did it! You didn't come in the forbidden 48 hours. Now, I know it's asking a lot, but if you could just consider waiting at least until next weekend, that would be great. My stepdad is in Switzerland until Friday, and I know he desperately wants to be here when you make your grand entrance!