This past week, as you may have read, The Mom stumbled and sprained her ankle on her daily commute in New York City. This kind of thing happens there all the time and she said nobody gave her a second look either during or after the incident. But almost exactly two years ago to the date, The Mom stumbled and sprained the exact same ankle in an event that came very close to knocking the world off its axis and sending us all spinning into oblivion. That's because she was 8-months pregnant with the twins and approximately the size of a small moon. From the impact alone, we are lucky she did not generate an earth-swallowing dust-cloud ushering in another Ice Age and bringing all humanity to the brink of extinction. (Except, of course, for Canadians who might never have noticed.) There is still a small crater in the spot where my wife and her belly landed.
Fortunately on this occasion, The Mom was a mere two blocks from our house when she stumbled and she was lucky enough to have been spotted by a dog-walking neighbor. He, with the aid of a back-hoe and half a dozen immigrant workers with leaf blowers, managed to get The Mom and her hijacked-by-twins body back home safely.
Now near our house is a hospital. It is a small hospital, within easy walking distance of our house, but it lacks many features that a young family might need, like a pediatrics ward or a NICU for at-risk births. Before the twins were born, we interviewed with many local pediatricians and one had this to say about our local hospital. "It's okay to go there if your child gets a scratch or a bump." Then she paused thoughtfully. "Or a scratchy bump," she added, making the list as comprehensive as possible. But we thought for a sprained ankle it would be fine.
Never have I seen a hospital staff as excited as they were when I helped my wife through those emergency doors. She was treated like royalty. Very big royalty. People came out of the woodwork to ooh and ahh, coo and squeal at my wife's enormous rotundity. Then they learned about her ankle. "It's not labor?" they wailed. Doctors, orderlies, and candystripers walked away crestfallen as they learned that, in fact, no water had broken, nothing was dialated, and the contractions were still months apart.
Still, a sprained ankle on a woman who weighs seven times more than she weighed only 8 months ago is nothing to sneeze at, so my wife was "fast-tracked." Sadly, this meant that we were whisked away to a separate wing of the hospital which, it would seem, few staff had ever heard of, much less visited. (I have since then learned that over a third of the workers at this hospital believe the "fast-track wing" to be a myth.)
We found ourselves in an area there were about six examination rooms radiating out from a central nurses' station. There were no other patients in the other examination rooms. There were no nurses at the station. Not a single computer at the nurses' station was on. And there we waited. And waited. It occurs to me now that they probably sent us to that remote hospital wing with the idea of waiting out the twins. If my wife weren't in labor yet, dadgummit, then she'd stay there until she was! That'll teach her!
But anyway, to make an already long story short, eventually someone came through the ward, possibly using it as a shortcut from one place to another, and I scared the living crap out of her by emerging from our little room and asking when we would be seen. She was properly horrified that we had been there so long and rushed away to get a doctor. I swear I saw her cross herself several times as she scurried off.
The doctor finally arrived, switching on the computers as he came in, and with his arrival, the rest of the visit was pretty run-of-the-mill. Except for the x-rays. It took multiple orderlies to get The Mom onto the x-ray table, and, while they struggled to get her and her ankle into the proper position, one poor man kept trying to pour buckets of water over her saying they'd get her back to the ocean if only she could hold out until the tide came back.
Just another day in the life of The Mom. God bless her.
She might kill you for that pic alone. lol
Posted by: Robin | October 16, 2006 at 06:41 AM
Wow, your sofa must be really comfortable.
Posted by: Sue | October 16, 2006 at 07:57 AM
I can only imagine that the last paragraph of this post was cut off. The one where he talks about how I was radiant while pregnant, stunningly gorgeous, although a bit large. I am SURE that he will add a comment about that and how marvelous I was while pregnant; what a lucky man he is.
Posted by: The Mom | October 16, 2006 at 08:44 AM
The Mom: I hope your ankle is feeling well enough to kick The Dad in the arse!
Posted by: Kate | October 16, 2006 at 09:18 AM
All kidding aside, I was enormous with the twins. They made it to 39 weeks and were 6lbs and 6lbs+. Here on the E. Coast, my belly was often in a different state than the rest of my body.
However, I am still waiting for The Dad to post a comment about how Demi on the cover of Esquire couldn't hold a candle to me. But he's busy raising my children, so I guess that is more important and I will have to wait.
Posted by: The Mom | October 16, 2006 at 09:54 AM
It's one thing for US to say we were huge.. but not THEM... :D I was all very huge belly with mine (who were also 6 and 6 1/2 pounds) but no one else is allowed to say that! I looked like I was smuggling watermelons.
Posted by: Kate | October 16, 2006 at 11:31 AM
Wow. 39 weeks. That great for twins.
While you must have been as big a, well... you know, it might be a little gauche to make note of it, much less write a whole blog post about it.
(my wife made me say that)
Posted by: How About Two? | October 16, 2006 at 11:36 AM
The Mom handled pregnancy with the same style and grace with which she handles everything. Outside of our wedding day, she has never been more radiant or beautiful than when she was pregnant with our kids. Her skin, every hectacre of it, gave off a glow that is usually limited to air-brushed swimsuit models.
Enormous she was, but she was enormous because she was able to accomplish the amazing: 39-week twins. I personally have difficulty moving around after an all-you-can-eat pizza buffet, but The Mom, at 8-months pregnant, carrying around what looked to be a small Volkswagon Beetle on her front, was still commuting daily to work. She was and is truly amazing.
Now can I come back inside, dear? It's cold out here!
Posted by: The Dad | October 16, 2006 at 12:15 PM
It's good to know there are fellow Uteruses of Steel out there. Or would that be Uteri? Anyway, mine were evicted at 40 weeks on the dot and I worked until 5 days before that.
Posted by: Kate | October 16, 2006 at 01:23 PM
"they'd get her back to the ocean if only she could hold out until the tide came back." !!!
No no no, bless YOU!
Posted by: Lioness | January 14, 2007 at 09:45 PM