So there’s this little thing that I haven’t mentioned, because I’ve been trying not to think about it myself. Dave is going out of town next week. For the entire week.
Remember last month, when he left town for one measly night – just for one final interview with the company that later hired him – and how all holy hell broke loose? Can you imagine what kind of catastrophic mess I’ll end up in when he’s gone for FOUR nights instead of just one? And all because this company needs him to come back for “new employee orientation” or some such nonsense. (I’m kidding. We love his new employer. They are lovely people who gave him a lovely job doing exactly what he wants for a very lovely paycheck.)
The funny part is that in our relationship, Dave is normally the calm, rational one and I’m the one who freaks out over every tiny god-blessed thing. But right now, with me feeling as miserable as I’ve been lately, I think he’s the one who’s starting to worry about the idea of leaving me alone for a week. I honestly don’t have the strength to get all worked up about it. I’m more like, “oh, just leave the frying pan over there on your side of the bed, and let the serial killers come get me.” He’s been talking about postponing the trip, but I think that would just be worse, because I’d rather not be left alone with a newborn for an entire week.
I think he’s also concerned because I’ve started showing signs that I might be starting to dilate (cramps in my hips, inner thighs, and… um, well, let’s just say that there have been some internal twinges too). I won’t know until my OB appointment on Monday afternoon if I am or not, but even if I’ve dilated a centimeter or two, it could still be weeks before I go into labor. But over the past several days, I’ve suddenly shifted gears from talking about February as the timeframe for the baby to being all, “I don’t care if it’s early, get this kid OUT of me, NOW!” So I can see why he’s a little worried.
We’ve already worked out our contingency plan. Kris is “on call” in case of emergencies, and my friend Janet is around too. And Dave knows that he absolutely has to keep his cell phone on him at all times, and if he gets a “911” text message from me, it means that he has to stop whatever he’s doing and get his butt on the next plane back to Seattle. It’s only a two-hour flight from the Bay area, and my understanding is that first labors generally take a while, so even in a worst-case scenario, he should still be able to get back here in plenty of time.
But so help me, if we lose our power again, I’m packing up my body pillow and the cats and checking into a hotel until the day my water breaks.