Note to self: never ever post an “everything’s fine” message for no particular reason. When I said we were waiting patiently for a baby to fall out, I didn’t mean to suggest he should get started right now.

I’m going to mess around with the order a bit here and jump to the end: it turned out to be nothing, a false alarm, and everybody’s doing fine.

This will be a little difficult to talk about without getting into some icky squishy girly stuff, but here goes. Normally, Shannon and I drive into work together, since she works just up the street from me. But she had a dentist appointment this morning, and drove separately. After the appointment, she noticed some extra fluid. It didn’t seem like a big deal, but being a good little preggo, she e-mailed her doctor just to let her know. She then went about her day, went to the gym after work, and got home at around 6:30.

At some point during the day, the O/B had left a message on our answering machine, saying that Shannon should go to the hospital and check herself into the women’s clinic so they could do some tests. The doctor was concerned that Shannon’s water might have broken, which, at 24 weeks, is a Very Bad Thing.

So. Cut to 15 minutes later, when I come home to an empty house and two messages on the machine: the one from the doctor, and another from Shannon saying, “I’ve gone to the hospital, the doctor thinks I might be leaking amniotic fluid, I’ll call when I get there.”

It’s a little hard to describe my reaction, but I believe the medical term is, “freak out.” The only thing that kept me from going completely off the rails was the very nonchalant tone of Shannon’s message. The words were scary, but the tone said, “The doctor, who is being silly, wants me to go to the hospital for some tests, but it’s no big deal.” So I waited, somewhat anxiously, by the phone for Shannon’s call. When it came, she still sounded incredibly nonchalant. “Should I come,” I ask. “Um, nah, I’m fine, I’ll let you know if it’s serious, but I don’t think it is.” So home I stayed. Fed the cats, fed myself, caught up on the news…

…and the phone rings again. This time it’s the O/B. Not what I wanted. But it turned out that she was just calling to make sure Shannon had gotten the message; at this point, the only semi-direct contact she’s had with us is Shannon’s e-mail. From this I infer that it is, in fact, relatively important that Shannon get herself into a hospital gown as soon as possible.

So I ask how serious this might be. “Well, it’s probably no big deal, so I wouldn’t worry about it.” I’m going to worry anyway, but that’s good to know. Still, if it is a fluid leak, which you seem to think it might be, what would that mean? “Well, if she’s leaking amniotic fluid, it could cause problems with the way the lungs develop and seriously impact development. Also, it raises a serious risk of infection. Are you going to the hospital?”

Note to doctors: think hard the next time you start off describing something as, “no big deal.” The word, “probably,” doesn’t help much if what follows is a litany of what might go wrong.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Shannon, who was laid out in a hospital gown with wires coming out of her abdomen to all sorts of machinery, informed me that, indeed, it was no big deal and she was perfectly fine. They’d ruled out a fluid leak and traced the likely cause to something much less serious (I’ll say it has to do with Monistat, and leave it at that). The EKG was great, his fluid levels are awesome, and everybody’s relaxed and groovy.

Shannon then, in all seriousness, noted the presence of a gray hair on my head. I’m not kidding.

And that was it, more or less. They did a “quick” ultrasound to verify that he had all the goop he needed for his lungs to do their thing, and sent us home. Note that this is “quick” in Hospital Time, so in fact it took about two hours, most of which was tracking down a machine, and most of the rest of which was the nurse trying to figure out how the machine worked, then giving up and using a different one.

And now we’re home. Shannon’s just finishing her shower and off to bed. I’m going to slug a stiff drink and do the same. To risk further wrath from the heavens: everything’s fine. Except I apparently have a gray hair.

P.S. In fairness to our O/B, who is a very sweet and attentive woman with whom we’re quite happy, I did press a little about what a fluid leak might mean. But when she asked if I was headed to the hospital, my calm pretty much went out the window.

P.P.S. Some humbling perspective here. I have no idea how Jason and Greta keep their composure, but Jason shows up for work every day (well, except yesterday and today, for obvious reasons), and the quality of his work, his energy, and his attitude haven’t suffered at all.  He’s an all-around amazing guy.