Swartzy Jr. may come sooner than we all expected. Mrs. Swartzy had a doctor’s appointment today, and there she learned that she is three centimeters dilated with 70 percent effacement … whatever that means.
Well, what it means is our son will be here before his due date, perhaps even in the next few days.
From what I understand labor begins when dilation reaches 10 centimeters and effacement 100 percent. I’ll try to slide that away in my memory bank for when the next Swartzy comes.
Anyway, I had it in my head that I had two or three weeks before Swarty Jr.’s official arrival on earth. I am a man of routine and hate adapting on the fly. To say the least, I am a little thrown off by all of this.
Shit is getting really real, really fast, and now I know I’m not ready for it all. It sure is going to be one hell of a ride these next few weeks and months.
That being said, I think we’re as prepared as we’re going to be, thanks to Mrs. Swartzy’s dedication and effort. She is a great planner and organizer. She gets shit done. She never procrastinates. God bless her.
If I was in charge, we wouldn’t even have a crib, car seat, onesies, or diapers at this point. Thank goodness I’m not in charge. I don’t get shit done. Just ask my friends at Amherst, NY Plumbing.
One thing I actually did get is installing the car seat in the back of Mrs. Swartzy’s vehicle last weekend. I read the directions front to back. I installed it precisely per the manual. Still, Mrs. Swartzy insists that it isn’t in there correctly.
That worries me. I’ve never installed one before. I’ve never really even looked at one for more than five seconds. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
The same could be said about me and babies. I’ve never had one. I’ve never really cared for one. Sometimes I struggle caring for myself. That worries me, too.
For what it’s worth, I like to think of myself as a one-time mentor to my youngest brother. We are 14 years apart. I changed his diaper when he was just a baby. I held him when he cried. I guess you could say I have some experience with babies.
Enough about me, though. Since Mrs. Swartzy is still a few days away from 37 weeks pregnant, the doctor told her that it would be ideal that Swartzy Jr. remains in the uterus until Wednesday. To improve the chances of this happening, Mrs. Swartzy was told not to do any walking or exercising until she pops out Swartzy Jr.
Mrs. Swartzy is nervous and anxious. She’s worried for Swartzy Jr. She’s worried about going through labor. I’m worried for her.
But, for some reason, I have quite a bit a faith that all will turn out well. I always believe that god, or some other grander spirit, will take care of me, and us. I am usually optimistic. Good things are coming.
Mrs. Swartzy, on the other hand, is often pessimistic. She expects the worst. It’s my job, however futile it may seem, to soften her pessimism.
So here goes nothing: Swartzy Jr. will be here soon, and he will be healthy, and you, Mrs. Swartzy, will get through it all just fine and dandy, and you will have my deepest support.
And, after all that, you will be the best mother ever to walk this earth and Mars.
I promise you.