First things, first...

The Facts
Drummer
Age: 26 years
Occupation: Web Developer for a GIS Mapping firm
Residence: 2 BR apartment, Pottstown, PA

DrummerWife
Age: 26 years
Occupation: PR/Marketing for a Contractor/Remodeler
Residence: same 2BR apartment

DrummerBaby
Age: -7.5 months
Occupation: Fetus
Residence: DrummerWife's uterus

The Story:
Well, we've been married 1 week shy of 17 months now. DrummerWife and I discovered our pregnancy little over 1 week ago. As best we can figure DrummerBaby is about 6 weeks "concieved" at this point, making our due date (as best DrummerWife and I can tabulate) sometime in late July or early August. Our little bundle of joy is quite the surprise to both of us.

I decided a little over 10 minutes ago that I was going to track the status of my wife, myself, and the little DrummerBaby over the course of the next 7.5 months and beyond. And hence, BabyOnYourSix is born. I only hope I can supply you, gentle reader, with some wit, some insight, and most importantly, a useless waste of baby-inspired bandwidth from the father's point-of-view.

Don't look now, Drummer, but there's a BABY ON YOUR SIX!

Comments

Aaron didn't make it.

About 3 hours ago, Aaron passed away. After speaking with his doctors earlier in the last few weeks, we decided that if at any point they were no longer supporting Aaron's life, but instead preventing him from dying, that we didn't want him to suffer any longer. We reached that point this morning. Aaron had been struggling for life from Day One, and after surgery, and several weeks of fighting, Aaron ran out of strength. He fought hard, but the strain of surgery just proved to be too much for him. I'm sure I'll feel up to posting more information later. I just don't seem to have any energy left in me for relating this at the moment. But I did feel it was important to share this information with all of you who have been keeping tabs on us. Thank you for your concern, your prayers, and your well-wishes during this difficult time. We love you. P.S.: I'd like to leave you with the following lyrics that popped into my head while we held Aaron as he passed away. They ...

Eighteen.

18, Aaron. Holy shit, kid (calm down, you're 18 in about 5 hours, I can curse in front of you now, plus, I've had a couple drinks, my language is a bit loose). You're an adult. You're old enough to drive, you'd be looking at college or technical school, or backpacking across Europe in a gap year, or whatever weird thing kids are doing when they turn 18 these days. You'd be a person. A complete, fully realized, adult person. That's weird, kid, gotta admit. So, 18 is hitting your mom and I kinda hard. The idea of you at 18 is really blowing our minds. We were just barely not kids ourselves when you were born, and now we're talking about you as an adult. It's amazing to think about. As you well know, we've done a ton of work with, and fundraising for, the March of Dimes; donated money and goods to community health centers; donated craft goods to a local moms and babies' hospital for siblings of newborns; collected toys, pajamas, and games for l...

IT WASN'T NEC!

After a long day of sitting at the hospital, hoping for the best, and preparing for the worst, the surgeon came in to talk to us and revealed to us that things went better than anyone could have possibly expected. Aaron never had an infection. What he did have though, was a hernia. He had a loop of intestine trapped beneath another loop, and while it was never "infected," it was trapped and deprived of blood, so it was dead. The surgeon removed the damaged loop, and thankfully, there is plenty more intestine left in there for Aaron. He's recovering peacefully from today's surgery, and was already at 28% oxygen (21% is room air) on the ventilator, and his other stats were all back where they were pre-surgery. He's doing fine. I want to thank everyone for their prayers and well-wishes during this time. I fully believe that Aaron wouldn't have rebounded from yesterday's procedure so quickly, and wouldn't have been as ready for today's if not for those...

Baby On Your Six

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