Being pro-active

Perhaps we were a little bit too much?

I got an appointment with a private clinic to a early ultrasound. We had calculated Week 7, so we expected it to be fine. However, when the talkative and rather service-minded guy checked, he said it was more like Week 5 and there was no heartbeat to hear. We all saw the vibration though, but he wanted us back in two weeks. So that cost me 1700 NOK. Fuck me. We decided to call the hospital and they offer one at Week 10. Perhaps we’re being a bit too pro-active here, but it is to be expected after last time.

Anyway, I’m staying very very calm. The feeling is different though. It feels steady, firm….last time it was like a feeling of waves. It’s perhaps symbolic but the feeling is def. different.

Let’s see where it takes us. Hopefully without pain.

Birthday

She is four today. Four years old. I can’t believe how time flies. Long gone are those days of 2016 and 2017 where everything seemed to be in turmoil. It is now replaced by discussions on whether or not we should buy hot dog bread for the birthday or not. Turns out we don’t though, for your information. And, turns out, just maybe, there will be another after all. We’re being very cautious on that part as of yet.

I mean, this is insane. I managed to choose the right path after all. Well, perhaps not fully because you sort of trade problems with new problems. It’s like moving house. The last house had a water leak and the new house got bad heating. Right? Can’t have everything anyway. And if I lost my main interest and there’s no airshow any more, why not just go full retard and make another one.

Anyway, four years old. A fast growing girl. The other one has gone from 8 to 12 – and I am in desperate need of her support. I used to almost look forward to a breather once she was away for the weekends. These days, I can’t wait to get her back home. She is my support. She listens to me, she is my new line of defence if the mother acts up with some weird ass shit. Pardon my language. If this continues, I think it will be alright.

Happy birthday my girl. You don’t know how much I fought for you, and I have seemed to forgetten as well as challenges rise on my path forward. Maybe it’s for the best. Time heal all wounds anyway.

Alright, enough with the cliches.

New personal stumach pain record

I have no idea where it came from, but that was a stumach virus like no other – mind you without the hurling and the diarrhea. None of that. Just pain.

I came upon me Sunday night. I didn’t feel superb, and by Tuesday evening I was in a fetal position in bed with stumach pain like no other. I was very close to calling an ambulance by 20:00, but thankfully the pain went away by 0400 at night. The 12-year old helped herself to bed, and she did well. I am proud of her and I am proud of what she has become although she needs to work a bit on a few things.

However it comes as no surprise I am puzzled by the lack of help from the significant other. It sounds like it’s a surprise to her every time I said I was in pain, and it’s almost like I have to constantly say I’m in pain if she is to accept the situation. There is no “what can I do to help” or “do you need something” which is just fucking weird thinking of how annoyed she gets if I simply do not greet someone to her standards and routine. Not even a “do you need a glass of water”.

I mean, what the fuck.

She treats the dad different though,

“Do you want something daddy”

“Do you want more food daddy”

“You have worked all day, poor you daddy”

“Please take more food daddy”

“Do you want coffee daddy”

“Thank you daddy”.

Her daddy issue is insane. The day after my massive stumach pain, I was trying to recover from fever all this pain, and first thing after she got up was to tell me off because I didn’t go outside and say hello to the daddy while he was working.

Offering me a glas of water is way too much I guess.

Cancel those beers

She was off nightshifts again. She had been working all weekend, and it was Tuesday. I had saved some beers for her and also had a wine ready if the occation rose.

By 22:00 I grabbed two Stella Artois’ from the fridge and offered it to her.

“We have to talk” she said.

I knew what was coming, so I took the beer back to the fridge, looked at her while walking back to the sofa. I sat down, and started laughing.

After an hour or so I went back to grabbed one of the beers.

For me only. I told her I needed one to calm down a little bit.

One week further down the road, and I’ve been so pro-active I can get. I ordered two appointments with a private clinic already.

Cross fingers everything will be ok.