Yesterday Scott and I met with a new set of doctors who ran an
extensive testing protocol on the baby-to-be. Our appointment wasn't
until mid afternoon, which meant that I spent the majority of the day
fretting and conjuring worst case scenarios. By the time I arrived at
the appointment, I was an emotional wreck! Thankfully I found a
hairbrush in my car because I realized when I was getting ready to walk
into the office that I had forgotten to brush my hair. Poor Robby. I
must have looked like a ragamuffin when I dropped him off at school in
the morning.
Despite my mediocre grooming,
the appointment went smoothly. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders
when the doctor said, "So far everything looks perfectly normal." The
first hurdle of the old lady tests is complete, and I am beginning to
feel the anticipation and joy that has been tempered.
Robby
still doesn't know that he is going to be a big brother. Scott and I
have decided to wait until my blood work comes back before revealing the
news. Truthfully, I think both of us are delaying revealing this news
because neither of us think that Robby will accept it gracefully. He has
been an only child for seven years and I don't think he is going to be
overjoyed with the prospect of having a sibling. Actually, I am
anticipating a full-blown angry meltdown, with tears. I keep telling
myself that he'll eventually embrace his new role as big brother, but it
is not going to happen overnight.
I want to
avoid the confrontation and drama as long as possible, but soon the
reality will be harder to conceal. It is not a conversation I'm looking
forward to having with him, but I'm hoping that we can figure out a way
to monopolize on the excitement of what he is gaining instead of the
changes that will be happening. After all, he is my son and neither of
us deal particularly well with change!
I am 8 years older than my younger sister. As we were growing up together we became great friends.
ReplyDeleteBut before she was born, my parents told me that they were bringing home a new brother or sister for me to play with. I recall instructing my mother to bring home a brother - that would be cool.
When my sister arrived, the first time I saw her she was in a crib in the living room, still using a hospital paper blanket.
I remember giving her a puzzled look and then turning to my mother and asking where was the brother I was promised.
Well you got a sister instead I was told.
I looked again and started getting REALLY upset.
You promised me someone I could play with! THIS is a BABY! You don't play with babies! You have to take care of babies!
I was seriously expecting that they bring home someone like me, maybe a year younger. NOT an infant!