Thursday, July 1, 2010

We've Penciled in a Birthday

Well our son is officially a stubborn ass and he's not even entered the world yet.  Fits right in!  He is breach.  That means he is head up butt down inside my wife's belly.  That my friends means the doctor won't even attempt delivering him normally (aka through the tunnel of love).  OK, that last parenthetical comment even made me throw up in my mouth a little. 

So the doc is out of town next week.  The new kid is due on the 16th.  We've scheduled a C-Section for the 13th.  A few reasons there. 
1.) It's close enough to his expected date, that if he comes out early, or when he's ready, the c-section is more on his terms and not entirely on ours.  Crazy thought, but we did go through the Bradley "Completely Natural" Birth program for a reason.  Holding out, no matter how uncomfortable my wife becomes is best for the little guy. 

2.) He'd get a Friday the 13th birthday every few years.  And before you question it's bad luck or any possible Jason references, it'll be 7-13, good and bad negate each other, right?  Or was that two wrongs don't make a right?  No, it's three lefts make a right, yeah, that's it. 

3.) It's my wife's Grandmother's birthday.  Cool for her.  Along the same lines, it is also my cat's birthday.  I know, I know, what guy knows his cat's birthday?  This big fat dork!  It's on his vet records people, I'm not that neurotic. 

My wife is really stressed out about it.  This is surgery.  And not the kind that you walk out with a few stitches.  They are going to slice and dice, yank and smash, push and pull.  She can't even drive for 2 weeks afterward.  That's bad news for me and anyone staying with us for awhile.  Our toddler won't stop going just because Mommy has a scar a mile wide and internal damage the likes of which boxers brains haven't even encountered!  Ah well, the anxiety of it all is ultimately compounded with the idea that with in 12 days, we will become a family of four.  Holy Hell, we're screwed!


  1. I'll cut you some slack about knowing your cat's birthday because you did a good job of providing all the evidence I'll ever need not to see a chick flick again. Your post the other day (I think I commented, but am not positive...) has armed with enough ammo for those battles.

    "Three lefts make a right" caught me off-guard and made me laugh. My cubicle neighbor now thinks I'm crazy.

  2. Little crazy, little mysterious, it all works to help people remember you. Little stupid, little lazy, unfortunately does too. I think you made the wise decision!

    Oh, and thanks for cutting me some slack. Though, black cat + Friday the Thirteenth Birthday makes for a creepy combo.