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Saturday, November 14, 2009

Hot Soldier Stillbirth Dad

Greetings, KuKd/TTCers and Inquistive Guests!

This post is about me being a self-serving little bitch. Sort of.

But first, I was trying to find the perfect representative image of a man whose oft-knocked-down-wife is pregnant once again. Pregnancy! What was once a safe and happy cake-walk is now a landmine-filled endeavor fraught with hidden dangers that even the most intellectully keen, foresightful, specially trained elite army forces can't predict or control!

Man becomes military scout on the constant lookout for danger:



Or maybe this:



(I don't know about you, but I'm going with image number 2. That's him, my Hot Soldier Stillbirth Daddy-O! Notice his manly package, powerfully capable of producing mass quantites of offspring (ahem, non-viable offpsring - but we'll ignore that detail for now). So enormous that even the whatever-you-call-that-thing on a machine gun can hardly hide it!)

To this particular man of mine, even the most seemingly ordinary and obvious information - like "the fetus just kicked" or "the ultrasound showed that he's alive and has the appropriate number of eye sockets" - is reassuring. When I tell him those things, I feel like the colonel relaying good news to the general: "Sir, we've secured stability in that one random little dusty town in northern Iraq!"

These conversations give me some selfish satisfaction, not just because I like seeing my man happy, but because for some reason it always feels good to be extra-nice to a soldier. You want to...like...send him a care package with fresh-baked cookies and glossy porn mags or other happy-making fodder. You're so grateful for his protective and manly abilities, his sacrifices, that you want to protect him in return - in whatever lame-ass way that you can.

Part of that means protecting him from negative information. Does anyone else have memories of your parents or grandparents protecting you from bad news, particularly when it hasn't been verified yet? Like deaths and illnesses in the family - I mean real bad news? My mom does it, K's mom does it. Always have. To me, that's what it means to be a seasoned, mature handler of bad news. You could succumb to your own fear and emotion, immediately calling everyone on the planet to rope others into your pool of anxiety. Or, you could wait until you have all the facts before you jump to conclusions and freak out your loved ones (potentially unnecessarily).

* * *

I like to think of my KuKdx3 status, my ripe old age of 33, as an opportunity to be like my and K's mothers are, and have always been. To be a wise and seasoned handler of potentially scary news. But ya know what?

I'm failing miserably at it.

It came up a few days ago, when there was blood in the toilet, twice. It was one of those things where I looked down at the water and went FUCK, with little alarm bells going off loudly inside my head. K was at the gym playing b-ball and had a fun night planned with his guy-friends after that. So it was kind of like: do I call him or not? Do I chill the hell out until I have some facts straight, or succumb to the almost overpowering urge call him to babble about this possible deadly sign, knowing it will worry him to pieces?

I tried for a while to be the mature, level-headed, Zen-like wife. I tried to wait it out for a day or two before calling the doctor, even. Honestly, I tried. But after about an hour or so, I was like fuck Zen! and impulsively the consulting nurse, who of course ordered me to come in right away "to get monitored," as I knew she would. And once that happened: BAM! I simply HAD to call up K, left without any choice but to inform him of my whereabouts!

"Hey dude," I said. "EVERYTHING IS OKAY, but I'm heading into the hospital so they can take a look at my cervix. I'M SURE THAT EVERYTHING IS OKAY, so don't worry. SINCE EVERYTHING IS OKAY, don't bother coming over here - just go do your guys' night as planned."

That led to him calling every fifteen minutes to check in as I lay there with little suction-cup thingies all over my belly and a monitor showing peaks and valleys of fetal heartbeats, even in the midst of his guys' night out.

Now, here's the part that makes me a self-serving little bitch, REALLY unlike my mother, or K's mother, or any other normal mature female who puts others before herself and looks after her "brood" if you could call it that: I actually kinda liked that he was getting up and leaving his guy-friends every so often to call, that he was using this particular worried-man voice that makes my heart go pitter patter. It's this kind of taut, serious male voice with undertones of concern. Not flipping out and bawling into the phone or anything, just this checking-in voice. I find it awesomely sexy. Awesomely awesome, actually, to be paid attention to.

What I really learned that night is this: as seasoned and wise and mature I'd like to think my KuKd past has made me, really I'm just as much the attention-loving fiend as I always was. I wonder if I'll ever be able to keep my own anxieties in check, setting aside my needs for the sake of others.

Oh, and one more thing this made me ponder: maybe the only reason people REALLY ever send care-packages to soldiers overseas is to make ourselves feel better. ;-)

(For the record, everything was OK, fetas-wise anyway. I discovered this morning that the blood is in my stools, not coming from "that other canal." I ran into the kitchen to announce this groundbreaking news to K, just so that - yes - so that someone else on the planet could be mildly concerned right alongside me. He was concerned, as I knew and hoped he'd be, and immediately Googled "blood stools during second trimester." Seems like it could be nothing, so I'm keeping an eye on it for now. It felt good, nonetheless, to have someone Googling on my behalf. See? See how self-serving I am?)

15 comments:

Being Me said...

I am going to ask you a most long winded question - do you remember that scene in National Lampoon's Vacation, where Clarke and Rusty are talking after the car leaves the road, and Rusty gives his opinion about Aunt Edna? Well, I'd like to say to you, in the same manner... "You're a pretty smart little guy. 'Scuse me... man."

Except obviously you're not a man. But still, the sentiment is the same. You're so spot on, so many things surrounding this rather taboo subject.

I can't possibly be the first person to suggest, but I do seriously want to ask: have you considered making a book of your blog entries?? I really think it is so necessary and your writing to entertaining - to view this subject with the grace and humour and honesty you have would be a brilliant service to your fellow men. 'Scuse me... women.

KuKd Chick said...

Well, it's been...I don't know - years? decades? - since I saw that movie, so I can't say I remember that particular line. Thank you though, Being Me. Blushing.

Hope's Mama said...

Can I just say I love reading here. Brain not switched on today to say much more than that, but I get you and nod along with so much of what you say. If only I could whip up my words at my boring old place as cleverly as you can.
And of course, glad the little one is ok. Hang tight to that man-friend of yours. He's a real keeper, in case you hadn't figured that out!
xo

Fireflyforever said...

I like reading here too - especially when there scantily clad soldier types to be seen!

The googling thing made me all misty eyed - bless him. He sounds so lovely! I'm glad male fetus is okay.

Michelle said...

First off...I definitely go for the second image...DEFINITELY!!!

Second, you are not alone sista! I...maybe unfortunately...would have done the same thing. The really sad and maybe embarrassing thing is, I don't know for sure that I would have said please don't come home...so I guess that makes me EXTRA self serving. Oh well, I choose to blame my KUKD X 4ness and of course not myself, because what would be the fun, I mean purpose in that. ;)So I give you mad props for being mature enough to go to the hospital on you own!

I am so so happy that all is well!

Karen said...

Glad all is well after all, Monica. I can't imagine being Zen-like after being KuKdX3. I don't think I've laughed so hard at juxtaposed photos in a while and I'm not even going to ask where you found the second photo. It cracked me up and I'm still laughing because I'm a second generation military brat - both my parents were Air Force and their fathers both military. So my first thought is this guy's offspring some day trying to find photos of dear ol' Dad in service. Oh, my! The next is what some sargeants teach recruits (in Canada anyway) to say: The weapon is not to be called a gun, it's a rifle so they have them chant, "This is my rifle, this is my gun. This is for shooting, and this is for fun." (That's kind of a nursery rhyme for base brats maybe....or I was a good eavesdropper with impeccable memory....hmmm). I think that they could use the second photo for illustration!!!!

Reba said...

definitely soldier #2!

also definitely good to get any blood checked out! i hope it's just a hemmeroid (not sure how to spell that). always reassuring to hear that male fetus is doing ok.

angie said...

I definitely think the kukd daddy porn should become a regular feature. Mainly because I have little to no interest in sex, but if I am bombarded with explicit images, it might help. There is a surprising barren wasteland of man porn in the babyloss community.

You know, one thing I wondered when reading your post, though, is if your aunt and mother really protected your father or uncle from the news. I mean, it makes sense to protect the fruit of your loin, but maybe, now I'm just speculating, she went into the bedroom closed the door, wailed, and made your father hold her and tell it was okay in his soothing voice. Maybe our husbands are the only ones and maybe that is the kind of maturity we reach where we rely on our mommies and our hubbies for related horribly scary incidents that will mostly turn out fine. I mean, I never really thought I was attention-getting or self-serving when I call my husband in the middle of the day to bitch about my foot being asleep and complain that it is all too much. Except when I also add that I think he should rush home right at that moment because of it. Then, yeah, I sort of concede it is mildly attention-getting. Glad fetus is glee-tus. Well, you know, doing well. Rhyming before 6a hurts.

KuKd Chick said...

Angie, now that I think about it, I think you're right. Not only that rhyming before 6am hurts, but that the hubbies (our dads, that is) probably weren't the ones who got/needed protection. It was probably just the kiddos. Which makes me feel tremendously better about being so...um...not protective of my soldier-man. Whew! I can breathe easy today. ;-)

Natalie said...

I had many moments of panic during this pregnancy so far where I faced the same question: call the husband and freak the eff out like *I* wanted to, or just kind of play it off and not really mention it until I knew WTF was going on? It's a HARD thing to figure out. Because we, the ones carrying, we need support amidst our freaking outs. But the husbands, they're kind of fragile too after this much heartache.

Glad to hear everything is okay with your fetus.

Megan said...

I'm glad everything is OK. I keep stuff like that from my husband all the time. He is a fixer and sometimes things can't be fixed.

Rebecca said...

I don't see it as self-serving at all (but maybe that just means I am the queen self-server?)!

From my perspective, the pregnancy is both yours and his and you are equally invested in it, so if there is anything that could be wrong with it, your partner would want to be there finding out together with you. So I see it as only FAIR to include him in the freak out - and really quite amazing that you managed to go to the hospital by yourself to face potentially devastating news.

At the same time, there is so much more anxiety being the one to carry the fetus and to feel the daily/hourly weird inexplicable things that go along with it. So, once again, it seems only FAIR to me to share some of that anxiety since the partner is shielded to some extent the whole time just by virtue of not being the one noticing that the kicks are different today, or this little pain here is different, or this other strange thing that is happening today...

But, like I said, maybe this all makes me the ultimate self-server?

Rebecca said...

Forgot to say: I am so NOT INTO soldiers or guns or ostentatious (sp?) muscles, but let's just say I had to go back to the post to take another, um, look.

m said...

more man porn, please.

Oh, wait, I think that's ME being self-serving...

Really glad fetus is cool, but sorry about the blood in your stool. Rhyme unintended, but there it is. Sorry.

KuKd Chick said...

YES, Rebecca and m- nobody can resist gun-laden man porn. Not even the most peaceful anti-gun types out there. It's really what's hiding behind that gun that matters...