Future FlimGeeks

So, we’re pretty much ready. We’ve been ready for a long time. We’ve tried to stay organized and prepared, and we have done reasonably well. We’ve been ready for a very long time. I’m slightly concerned the *emergency* rock candy will be stale by the time we’re even at the hospital. We’ve been ready for so fucking long. Like it’s some big conspiracy to keep my mind scrambled for the longest period of time. They should put soldiers through this before the war cause if they can deal with this, running headlong into enemy fire would be a cakewalk.

We’ve been ready for a long time.

So the weekly doctor visit comes around every week as per usual, and has oddly become so run-of-the-mill. Uneventful, nothing interesting. Check the weight, check the blood pressure, check the heart-rates on the boys… yadda-yadda-yadda.

Well, this time he decides to ’stir the pot’ as it were. I had no idea that he actually meant that so very literally. He says that Saroo’s kind of over due in a sense (at 38 weeks), and that sometimes an internal examination may help ‘push her over the edge’. I scoffed. I have used that EXACT same pickup line, but to no avail, so I know she’s going to punch him, right?

Nope. Just cause this guy goes to school for the first half of his life, he gets to enter my wife?!?! I don’t think so! I leap across the table swinging, fists of fury flying, as I use that crazy stirrup-like thing for footing. The doctor cowered and retreated from my awesome vengeful wrath.

Well. To be exact, it was a little more uneventful, but my way is more fun. He does his ‘internal’ examination, and says the boys are almost ready, and that Saroo’s about 4cm dilated, and that she’s ready to go at any time, and quite probably soon.

“So, like… I should move around plans and free up my schedule tonight kinda soon?” I inquired.
“Well, soon.” He replied.

Ever so slight return of panic. Almost a sweet relief like an old friend.

“Hello, panic” I greeted, “You look well.”
“Thanks, I’ve been waiting for you to remember that you’re having twins.” Panic retorted.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve been ready for so long… got kinda used to it” I explained.
“It’s actually going to happen now, champ. Don’t you want to repack that hospital bag? I’m sure you forgot *something*”

We made sure we have an extensive list of vehicles, drivers, and backups for each. The route to the hospital is planned and calculated. Just had to remember that we’re STILL ready… And waiting… more waiting…. (but at least finite waiting)

More updates when the maelstrom of contractions make things just a little more interesting

The weekly doctor visit was uneventful as usual, with his new trademark comment,”You’re still pregnant, and I can’t find anything wrong with you”.  Heart rates are good, and the uber-gut is just a little over 40″.

We asked for some reassurance from him as far as the delivery goes, as a dear friend of ours just lost their little one in delivery. Our thoughts are with them, and hope for the best.

We go for the first ultrasound, and Saroo goes in while I wait in the waiting room. I’m not even half-way through an article from a copy of MacLeans that I’m pretty sure was dated somewhere in the last decade or so (article was about the wonders of the interweb), when the technician comes out and asks me to join them. I hope this woman plays poker often as her poker face is FANTASTIC, as opposed to my face which I’m sure clearly displayed the emotion ‘what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-my-baby’.

Saroo’s laying down on the gurney with her stomach covered in that ultrasound lube-goo (that under any other circumstances could be arousing). The technician says she’ll give us the room so Saroo can “break the news to me”… at which point my facial expression quickly morphed into ‘what-the-fuck’.

“Twins” she says. One word. › Continue reading