You can thank the persistent, prolonged cold weather for this most recent test of my fear response. As you can imagine, when I got an instant message from my wife that said "I slipped on the ice today and now my stomach kinda hurts," I flipped out a little bit. "Call the birthing center, please," I typed, trying to come across as calm but insistent. In my head, however, I was thinking OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD. She went on to explain that she didn't fall but had simply started to fall and, in the process of catching herself (so she assumed), she had strained a muscle in her already overstretched belly. The birthing center asked her to come in to confirm this probable diagnosis. After being unable to confirm separate heartbeats using the Doppler, she was given an ultrasound, and this confirmed that everything was fine. The doc told her she would be sore in the morning (she was, but more from Raiden than from the slip), but otherwise she and the little ones were perfectly fine.
She sent me a text to signal the all clear and I found that I was able to breath again. The funny part was that I was teaching my class at the time and I stopped to read the text, something for which I would normally berate students. I told my students at the beginning of class that I might be a bit distracted as my wife was at the doctor's office and I was waiting to hear back from her (they know we're expecting). I started in on my lecture when one of the students perked up and asked, with a slight hint of fear in her voice "Um......is she ok?" I played it off like I had no fear at all, but I must have done a bad job of it because when I told them that the text said she was fine, I could detect a distinct, collective sigh of relief from the room.
We did get one unfortunate (though quite possibly temporary) piece of news: apparently Raiden (aka Mr. Right Side) has decided to flip himself back over to the breech position again. Both were feeling a bit camera shy as the ultrasound technician was unable to get good face shots of either one. What struck Amanda as especially funny about the whole ordeal was that the tech placed the transducer right below her ribs, right where it hurts so much, and a giant head appeared on screen. The little guy is head-butting her rib cage all day long. Way to go, little dude.
Later that night, while studying in bed, Amanda moaned and exclaimed "Oww! My rib hurts!" I touched her shoulder and responded "I know, hon, and I'm sorry...but what doesn't hurt?" I expected a playful slap or perhaps a dirty look, but instead there was a slight pause and then she responded in a low, pained (but laugh-filled voice) "My feeeeeet!" So at least there's that.