As I’ve written before and as all the poor souls I terrorized with my tales of woe know well enough, we had to deal with quite a few pregnancy complications. This entailed several visits at my doctor at very odd hours and a stint at the ER of the hospital.
Aren’t ER doctors just the rudest breed of people? You just know you are getting on their nerves for even existing and are ruining their plan for the perfect evening. So when the doctor talked to me veeeery slowly and veeeery gently (“Eeeverthing willl be quiiite alright, Mrs. Linder. Just don’t get up just yet and breeeeeeathe…”) and reassuringly patted my head, I knew I was making a total fool of myself. But really: worse things happen at sea and worse things happened to me.
Anyway, to some of these doctor’s appointments and also to the infamous ER visit, we had to take Keagan with us. He played with the iPhone and didn’t seem to take to much notice. Only in the ER waiting room, he once asked me “Mama, why are you acting so weird?” my reply of “Because I’m a bit crazy right now” he accepted without any hesitation. Thank you, fruit of my loins, for your vote of confidence.
But a few days later he asked me if I had a baby in my belly. Eventhough I would have preferred not to tell him for another 2 months, I said yes and asked him how he found out about it. He then said that he had thought about it all by him-self. Then he asked how big the baby was now. When being told it was a mere 6cm he made cooing noises and said “oh, it’s just itty-bitty tiny”. So he wouldn’t get his hopes up to high, I told him, that the baby has to grow for a long long time still and that sometimes babies don’t want to do that.
In the evening I asked Keagan, if he would still sing me a lullaby. He said no. But he wanted to sing a song for the baby. It went like this:
Grow, baby, grow
you know you have to grow.
We for sure have the sweetest little boy on the planet. He will be a magnificent big brother.