I think he is trying to tell you something.
Polly Frances
My daughter almost died the other night.
Almost. At least, I rode that emotional roller coaster.
My wife is twenty-two weeks pregnant. She began feeling severe discomfort in her abdomen. We went to the emergency room and they started the tests. They put her on some machines and took some blood and started poking around. The doctor sent for me and the nurse collected me from the waiting room. My wife was having contractions.
I am not carrying the baby so I do not have that "built-in" bond that you have with your child for those first nine months from conception. For example, I am not proud to admit that I felt little to nothing for my son until he was born. Of course, he is the moon and the stars to me and has been every second since he came tumbling out of my wife.
I point this out because I named my daughter before I knew I was having a daughter. This act made her more real. This act had me begin to think about her narrative in a way that involved me as her father. Playing Legos. Wrestling. Teaching her to brush her teeth. I named her Polly Frances and I decided that she was going to be magic.
They said my wife was having contractions. Every minute or so, my wife was having lite contraction pains that registered about a 1 on the universal pain range chart. Clearly not serious pain, it contractions none the less. They ran tests.
Her cervix was closed, her cervix was long and the water had not broken. This is all great news and great signs that all is fine... except that she is having contractions. They sent us home.
My wife continues to have contractions which could quite possibly continue all the way through the pregnancy.
I am not carrying the baby so I do not have that "built-in" bond that you have with your child for those first nine months from conception. For example, I am not proud to admit that I felt little to nothing for my son until he was born. Of course, he is the moon and the stars to me and has been every second since he came tumbling out of my wife.
I point this out because I named my daughter before I knew I was having a daughter. This act made her more real. This act had me begin to think about her narrative in a way that involved me as her father. Playing Legos. Wrestling. Teaching her to brush her teeth. I named her Polly Frances and I decided that she was going to be magic.
They said my wife was having contractions. Every minute or so, my wife was having lite contraction pains that registered about a 1 on the universal pain range chart. Clearly not serious pain, it contractions none the less. They ran tests.
Her cervix was closed, her cervix was long and the water had not broken. This is all great news and great signs that all is fine... except that she is having contractions. They sent us home.
My wife continues to have contractions which could quite possibly continue all the way through the pregnancy.
Mean Tweets
This is probably the most efficient marriage of tech and laughter today. Jimmy Kimmel is really amazing.
Migraine
The florescent lights are buzzing... like a chainsaw. The office chatter is just above screaming. I certainly can't work and my boss is hovering.
I may vomit on my keyboard.
I have already mainlined a dose and a half of ibuprofen. I drank 64 oz. Of water, too. Just 30 minutes till I can clock out and take my pain home. I am already thinking about being in the fetal position. Its gonna be nice.
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