In fact, my RE is going to discharge me next week. I got the name of a recommended OB, & have called a couple of midwives on my own.
Damn, people really seem to think I’m having a baby!
Brought the boy in this morning to see the heartbeat on the US machine. He’s taking my word for it that blob is actually Sprog. Well, my word and the RE’s word, which probably actually carries more weight with him. And Sprog is measuring at around 8mm crown to butt. Which is, apparently, right where it should be. And, best of all, I didn’t have to give up any blood at all. I think it’s the first time I’ve gone into those offices when they haven’t drawn at least a few vials for kicks.
On the somewhat grimmer side, the boy apparently told his eldest (and most accepting of me) daughter that we were getting married, in order to ask if she would like to attend the wedding. She immediately countered with the question, “Is she pregnant?” and he felt he couldn’t, in good conscience, lie to her about what’s happening. It apparently got painful and horrible rather quickly after that.
Boy is beside himself with guilt and fear that he’s scarred his children forever, ruined their lives. I’m feeling a bit of that guilt myself, even though I honestly don’t want to take him away from his kids. In fact, it’s one of the things I love about him – how much he loves his kids. But a second family is upsetting for the first family, horribly upsetting. And threatening, especially in a family that’s always been as close as they are.
I hate being the cause of such grief, but I’m also feeling upset that one of the happiest times of my life is obviously going to be marred by the insecurities of grown children. We’re not talking 6-year-olds, we’re taking 26-year-olds. And then I hate myself for feeling bitter because, 6 or 26, this young woman’s daddy has just announced he’s going to be someone else’s daddy at a time in her life when she’d just as soon he remained safely in the ‘grand-dad aged category.’
If I’d known how hard it would be to love a man who already had a family, I might have had second thoughts all those years ago.
No, not really.
But it worries me that his daughters are so insecure that this seemingly threatens their world so much. His eldest is confused, doesn’t understand how her father could love two such different women – me and her mother. She’s worried that this means her father won’t love her children as much as her grandfather loved her because he’ll be so wrapped up in his newest child. She’s worried that I (and unborn Sprog) mean to take him all to ourselves and not share at all.
And I don’t intend that (though I can’t really speak for Sprog). But I can understand – a little bit, anyway – how scary it must be to her. She knows I have no love for this city, and would like nothing more than to move north. And she wants her dad right here, where she can see him at a moment’s notice. I certainly understand that even though it’s not realistic. Because it’s not her fault for wanting it, either.
And here she was the one I was hoping would be the easiest of the three.
And the boy is a ball of misery, curled up on the sofa.
And I am a ball of anxiety, hoping that the telling of the middle & youngest daughters is somehow not going to be so bad. Even though I know better.
And despite it all, my brain keeps coming back to the news that Sprog is still alive. And growing. And we saw its little heart pumping away this morning. And so, despite it all, I am still very very happy and I have to trust that everything will work out all right in the end.