When your wife tells you she's pregnant, the last thing you expect is for her to come out of a Shell Station bathroom ten hours from home saying she's bleeding. It turns you inside out.
But I dealt with it. I made her call the OB, because I knew she couldn't think about it. I took her to the hospital and tried to keep her in good spirits. Some of that felt like a betrayal. Our omens in ritual had not been great, won't lie. I thought they were cautioning us against talking to people about it.
Which is a lie. I thought they were telling us that we weren't going to have a baby. But I didn't want to believe that. I second guessed my own divination, which probably happens a lot.
A lot of people will say that the waiting is the worst part. It wasn't. The worst part was watching them wheel my wife away. Waiting was just me eating seaweed salad. Me reading. Me drinking complimentary hot cocoa. Big deal. Traci was the one going into surgery.
I know that most people won't care about this, but the recovery has also been hell on our diets. We ate crap for almost 2 weeks and getting back on the bandwagon is hard (though the crap I've been feeling like for the last week is helping there).
Mostly I just want to put this past us and get our lives back. If nothing else it taught us that we both really want to have a baby. A lot. And we'll keep posting here because this journey is not over by a long shot.
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