"I do this every day."
To which I replied, after failing to locate a blunt object with which to beat the God complex out of him;
"Well. I. Don't."
After a couple weeks in the ICU. After I felt confident that I'd be taking my sickly, but alive baby home, eventually. Hovering over his isolette with my mother in law and sister in law;
"I think he has a moderate chance."
Getting the dreaded middle of the night phone call from the ICU. Making the mad dash to the hospital to say goodbye to the child I'd never get to know;
"He's going where no baby has gone before."
Unchartered waters. Maybe heart lung transplant. Lots of other surreal crap no mother ever wants to hear.
Post-op: emergency thoracotomy performed in ICU, describing weeks old baby's lungs;
"A cross between tissue paper and swiss cheese. We just wait and see if they'll heal."
Pre-op: Left nephrectomy. Nissen Fundoplication. G-tube placement. Circumcision.
Waiting patiently for Owen to be taken to surgical suite. Waiting far too long.
Rusty appears, obviously frustrated and annoyed, explaining that there was a scheduling mix up and that;
"Someone doesn't know what the fuck they are doing."
Post-op: having removed vital organ, rearranged anatomy of stomach, placed device through which nutrition will be delivered to baby, and circumcising baby; first words to parents of baby;
"His Penis looks GREAT!"
A Monday. A week after above procedure.
Rusty: "I think you can take him home on Friday."
Me: "Holy shit!! No fucking way!!"
So on and so forth as Rusty shook his head and laughed.
Almost two years old, post MRI showing that Owen's fundoplication had come unwrapped allowing all stomach contents to be expelled from his body, thus starving him;
"This has never happened to me before."
Much restraint required to not come back at him with; "That's what HE said."
At a clinic appointment, when Owen was around three years old;
"I wasn't sure he'd survive his first winter."
"I wasn't sure you're marriage would survive this."
Maybe at the same clinic appoinment?
Rusty: "I'm so sorry about his hearing. I just wish there was something we could have done to prevent it."
Another clinic visit, four years old,
"Looks like he's going to grow up, get a job, and pay taxes."
Showing Owen his x-ray results:
"A normal size set of lungs. A normal looking heart. You don't need me for anything. If you want, I can see you again in two years."
I want. I most definitely want.