She's here!

Last Monday at 1658, the beloved underwent surgery to finally rid herself of her abdominal parasite.

The beloved and, by extension, I have been exposed to much advice—solicited and otherwise—over the past 2 years. Many of the advisors—often the unsolicited ones—have said that the problem with modern childbirth is that the doctors take a pathological view of the process.

Pathology—for the non-scholar—comes from two root words, pathos (suffering/pain/harm) and logia (science/study). Loosely translated it means the study of pain. From the past 2 years, I can attest that pregnancy is a pathological state, not only for the woman bearing the child, but for everyone around her, as well.

When the Dot has no nap for an entire day, even if she bears up under her burden quite admirably it is safe to assume that she is a bit out of sorts.

When three times in one week the husband is dragged out of bed after working 1500-0730 to head off to the Family Childbirth Center (formerly known as the maternity ward) for false alarms, it’s a safe assumption he isn’t having the greatest of times.

When the dogs spend more hours in their crates during one day of false alarm than in the previous three weeks, it is a safe assumption they are miserable.

When the interior incision is made and the fluid is so pressurized that it sprays approximately 20 inches into the air, it is a safe assumption that the Lump is feeling a bit uncomfortable.

So, even if the beloved is having incision pain and the lump is a bit jaundiced, it could be worse. They could still be attached.