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!