… that we all get to exhale for about fifteen seconds and then start holding our breaths again.
The amniocentesis came back indicating that Daniel is only just now starting to mature to the point where he could convert without being on a ventilator. If we delivered today, it would be an immediate trip to Denver, and there’s no way to justify it. Instead, we’re scheduling a definite section (minus the amnio to begin with) for next Monday or Tuesday. (I’ll run a couple of charts, see what the schedule looks like, who’s available, and update you then.)
Here is where I really hope I’m suffering from overwhelming fear and that I’m completely wrong: I don’t feel like we have another week.
I was looking forward to that nice, controlled, calm environment, with no pressure and no worries, just a routine procedure on an ordinary day. Instead, I fear we’re going to be facing a crisis situation with a number of emergency measures being taken, and that always increases the risk of Something Going Horribly Wrong.
How am I doing? Not great, really. I can’t lie – I’m disappointed, more scared and stressed out than ever, wondering how the hell I’m going to find enough to distract myself adequately for yet another week, worried about all the “what ifs”… I finally had to take a Vicodin to cope with the headache I gave myself from crying.
However, regardless of the fact that Mister Daniel has denied allowing the Fifth of November to be his birthday, he is still getting saddled with the moniker of Fawkes, both in honor of the revolutionary nature of his almost-birthday and of the phoenix by the same name. What better symbol for our little Dream than one that stands for life after death.
Please, for the time being, don’t call to see how I’m doing. When I’m ready to talk, I’ll let you know. As needed, I’ve left messages, but on the whole right now, I’d just kinda like to be left on my own.