Tonight I am grateful to my unborn child, who has chosen to remain inside Mommy’s womb for a least a little while longer. At 36 weeks, there is no real danger to delivering the baby now even though the actual due date is a month away, but still, we would prefer that this baby be fully cooked first before emerging onto the world.
We spent most of the day at the hospital after my wife experienced symptoms of labor early this morning. As I write this at my dining room table late on Monday night, Elysha remains in the hospital for observation. If all goes well, she will be discharged tomorrow and will require modified bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy.
This will suck bad.
Our baby’s decision to misbehave today also cost me an opportunity to perform at this evening’s Moth StorySlam in Brooklyn. Ironically, the topic of the show was Mothers. I had planned to tell the story of the birth of my first child, but it was spoiled by the rumblings of my second.
Overall is was a rather frustrating day for the both of us, but a few moments managed to save it from complete disaster.
1. Though I can’t remember what I said specifically, I especially enjoyed the moment when Elysha was forced to assure our nurse that my apparent disinterest and abject apathy towards our unborn child was not indicative of my overall performance as a husband and father.
2. We received an amazing blurb for my new book this afternoon from a bestselling author who I respect a great deal. The doctor had just informed us that Elysha would be be staying in the hospital overnight when news of the blurb arrived, and it served as a much needed pick-me-up at just the right moment.
3. My favorite moment of the day came when the nurse countermanded the orders of the doctor and informed Elysha that she would not be eating for the remainder of the day as a precautionary measure. Elysha had yet to eat a thing all day, and this news caused her to begin crying. If you have never seen my wife cry, it is like a combination of a baby seal, a kitten and Bambi all crying at the same time.
It’s quite a sight to behold.
The nurse initially held her ground, insisting that it was better if Elysha did not eat in the event we ended up in a c-section, but after five minutes, she told us that she would reconsider her decision after four hours of monitoring. She then returned to the room twenty minutes later and informed us that she had ordered dinner for Elysha.
“The crying got to you,” I said. “Right?”
“It did,” she said, adding that Elysha should also feel free to have her parents pick up any food item she might want, since the cafeteria food was questionable at best.
In the span of less than half an hour, the nurse had gone from stoic determinism to self-flagellating mush all because of Elysha’s power of the tear.