In the past couple of years I’ve heard the word “fluke” used far too many times because my life is, apparently, rather fluke-filled. This morning the husband and I went to the clinic for my post-partum checkup, and to consult with the doc about the long-anticipated autopsy report. Anatomically Felix was perfect. I could tell this when I held his lifeless body, but the autopsy confirmed it. His minor heart problem wasn’t even a problem. They’re not entirely sure what killed him, but think it was a placental abruption. It’s likely that the placenta peeled away from the uterus wall sometime between December 29th (my last prenatal exam, where everything seemed a-ok) and January 6th (the day I was admitted to the hospital, because Felix had stopped moving). The doctor said it was highly unlikely that we’d suffer a repeat of this nightmare if we were to try again. But our previous pregnancy loss in 2003, due to anencephaly, was also highly unusual. A fluke. I can just envision something else going horribly wrong. But we have some time to think about it. My body won’t be ready again for nearly 17 months. 18 months from the date of the c-section. If I were to get pregnant too soon my uterus could rupture. Big fun, that. But if we do try again, that would mean attempting to get pregnant in, oh, June of 2007. With the earliest possible due date some time in March of 2008. I’d be closing in on 35 then, and the little man would be nearly nine. Yowza.
In other heart-in-my-throat news…this morning I had to get up early (despite a late night out at the fantastic Andrew Bird show) to take the little man to his bus stop. Despite my lack of sleep I noticed that my eldest cat, Jasmine, wasn’t making her usual morning demands for food and/or attention. I was a little alarmed as our other cat, Selina, was inadvertently trapped overnight in a closet recently. But I thought to myself, self, it’s all right, I’ll just locate her when I get back. So I returned from my chauffeuring duties but still couldn’t find my aging feline. And suddenly it was time to rouse the husband and head out for the doc appointment. I decided to go out to the car to wait for said husband. While waiting in the car I saw a cat saunter up to our sidewalk. First thought, just a neighborhood stray. Second thought, oh my god, that’s MY cat. My elderly indoor cat. I hopped out of the car and opened the front door of the house, into which she bolted. I quickly checked her vitals and god-damned if she didn’t seem just fine, albeit a little cold. It must have been about ten degrees overnight, and the little miss was declawed years ago. Sadly I didn’t have time to cuddle and coddle her just then as we had to get to the appointment. Though we needn’t have hurried. The doc was a full hour-and-a-half behind schedule. It was just one of those days.
I’m hoping the remainder of the weekend will be better. But it’s overstimulation central with too many options to choose from. The Riverview is showing the 2006 Academy Award nominees for Best Short Documentary (though not the animated shorts, dammit). There’s another somewhat spontaneous flickr photowalk slated for tomorrow. The Mondo Jugglefest is going on this weekend. My friend’s band is playing tomorrow. Twice. And we have a family brunch thingie on Sunday. And I’m sure I’m forgetting something.
Bonus: Raumpatrouille translates as “Space Patrol” in English (via Afrojet).
