Now into my wife's 10th week of pregnancy we're starting to get the warnings from the doctors:
  • As a diabetic, you may miscarriage, even later in-term.
  • As a diabetic, you may not survive the birthing.
  • As a diabetic, the child might have Down Syndrome.
and so on. Gloom and doom.

I keep an optimistic face on for my wife, but I sit at work and reel sometimes, gripping my desk, flush with a panic attack as all of the stress I internalized pours out of my system. Heather is stressed enough without me adding to it, and I'm trying really hard to support her.

The doctor's told her on Friday that she'll probably give birth in October, almost 45 days early, because it looks like her left kidney is failing. Heather's been taking really good care of herself, and it still might fail. I want to believe that Heather got pregnant for a reason (well beside the actual reason), but it's hard to imagine all of this fear and stress and potential for loss to be of some good.

Heather's writing her will today. She just turned 23 and she's already writing a will. She wants to make sure that I don't have to worry about anything if she should die in the middle of the C-Section. She wants me to be in the room when they deliver but I really don't think I could stomach seeing someone cut into my wife.

With all of the stress and the panic attacks lately I've been having chest pains, but I think it's heartburn. What an appropriate image: my heart aches so much it's starting to burn under the weight of it's own worry, like mulch that smolders and combusts spontaneously. I've started to think about taking out a will myself. This is not where I pictured my life at when I was in college.