So bear with me as I write out the insanity of the last week:
First, my religious friend at work discussed in the prior post, well, the day after our hug, her 21 year old daughter is in a horrifying car accident. Her jaw is broken, her kidney punctured, and she was put into a coma because of a brain bleed. I am happy to say that she is finally out of the woods, with a lot of pain and a wrenching recovery ahead, but she will pull through. I just can't believe that my friend had to experience this, quite literally the day after I was discussing maternal grief.
THEN, I get a call from the husband of my Pregnant Best Friend at Work (PBFAW). Can you take our first daughter asap (she is now 17 months)? PBFAW is going to need an emergency c-section and our family isn't here and Baby J knows you.
So, friends, I rush to the hospital and when I get there PBFAW and her husband are already in surgery and a nurse brings out Baby J. Who thankfully doesn't take one look at me and scream at the top of her lungs.
I take her home instead of her day care, because 1) she has a wicked cold, and 2) It will be much easier on her Dad if I have her and he either picks her up from me or I drop her back off than to have a 6pm pickup deadline at their daycare.
You guys, I had a baby in my house. For like, 8 hours. I read to her, explored my SO NOT CHILDPROOFED house, fed her, changed four diapers (girlfriend can eat, let me tell ya). Except for the moments of what the fuckery when I drag a high chair down two flights of stairs from my attic, with a toddler in tow, and then try to ram her into it to eat lunch, when OMG her thighs are stuck and I am pulling and pulling and can't get her damn leg out of the chair and she now officially HATES me, I think I did rather well. And Princess the cat handled things well too. (I've always been a little worried about the potential cat baby dynamic in our house).
I even got her to nap for two hours.
That night I brought her back to the hospital to her mom. And met her brother. Who looks exactly like her. And tried to hold my shit together in front of PBFAWs aunt, who arrived earlier in the day to help.
Can I tell you about PBFAWs aunt? She has one living daughter, a beautiful 20 year old. And one child that died at birth - she carried her to term, but the baby never survived the open neural tube defects she was born with. And PBFAWs aunt also carried another baby, one that never made it to term. She was aborted in the second trimester after she learned that the baby was carrying the same defects.
I have met this woman a handful of times, she is lovely. But I have no idea if she knows what I know, or if likewise, PBFAW ever told her my sad sad fertility tale. All I know is that there was a moment in time when the two of us - by some crazy twist of fate - were standing in bittersweet awe over the bassinet of a squalling newborn baby boy.