Well, the big news in the W household right now is that James and I are now entering our 37th hour of a hospital stay. Luckily (?) it's for James, not for me and/or the baby. That sounds kind of heartless as I type it out, but both James and I agree we'd rather be here for him than for me right now. He's dealing with some upper respiratory issues, and since breathing is rather important to the grand scheme of life, I'm glad he's getting taken care of.
For my part, I'm using the opportunity to learn the rhythms of the hospital, which is the same one we're planning to deliver in. It's almost nice to see how it works. This ranges from small things, like figuring out ahead of time how to order meals to the room and that the cafeteria accepts debit cards. We're up on the 5th floor, two floors above where we'll be for Maternity, but the same general wing of the hospital, so I'm learning my way around for the (hopefully short) hospital stay after Lil W arrives. All in all, we're doing okay. James and I are always relatively hesitant to come to the emergency room wondering if it's worth it, but the response of the ER to his initial condition, combined with it apparently being bad enough to keep him here at least two days, tells us we made the right decision.
It also has me feeling very lucky that we live in America and have insurance, which has allowed us to make the best choices for his health without immediate thought to whether or not we can afford it. It's a luxury that I know we're very, very lucky to have, and while I imagine we'll have a little bit of sticker shock when we finally get the bill, at least we can get the care that he needs right now.
And the good thing is, since James is already furloughed, he hasn't had to arrange to take time off work. So, in terms of good timing to be ill and hospitalized, it is. Though it sounds like progress is being made on that front and hopefully he'll be back to work soon, health permitted.
He's antsy to get home, though, and I can't blame him. I'm antsy to have him home. I went home for about 8 hours last night to take care of the dog and catch some sleep, and learned something about Zoe that was rather interesting.
I'm not particularly worried about introducing Zoe to the new baby. She doesn't like new people / things, but once someone is around for about 3 days, they become part of her pack and she accepts and loves them. This has applied to James and I, obviously, and my mom and sisters when they've visited. It also applies to pets - Zoe and Zebra exist in peace, and she even loves our guinea pig.
So, I'm pretty used to Zoe's pack mentality, and accept it as part of her personality. I also accept that in our little pack, James is clearly the alpha. Last night, I learned that, while Zoe agrees with that assessment, she thinks that she herself is second in command. It was the first time I've ever spent the night with Zoe without James around, and she decided that she had to take care of me and protect the household. She usually sleeps by our feet for the first little bit, then crawls under the bed for the rest of the night. Last night she spent all night either laying in the bedroom doorway or at the foot of the bed, and her head popped up at every tiny noise.
I'm glad she was on the clock, though, as she defended us from the evil 2 a.m. attack of the A/C unit coming on, the 4 a.m. failed coup of the cat to get to her litter box, and the 6 a.m. monstrosity of the alarm going off. I don't know what I would have done without her.
I don't know if I should be insulted or find it endearing that in her head, she's #2 on the pack hierarchy. I'm hoping I'm #3 and not behind the cat or the guinea pig. And I'd like to tell myself that her protectiveness is because she can sense that I'm pregnant and she's actually protecting the baby. But I'm not that delusional yet. I'll take my 40 pound dog's protection, and at least I know she will bark loudly at any dangerous issues that actually come up. Like the sound of rain water coming out of the gutter.