My baby-daddy got admitted to the hospital last night.
It makes me laugh a little to call him that, seeing as we’re both way too old and grown up to have anything like baby-daddies or -mamas.
He’s got something going on where his immune system is attacking his blood, resulting in extremely low platelet counts and internal bleeding. When he moves, he gets a bloody nose that lasts forever.
The Kid and I are going for a visit, coming to rescue him from medical boredom with a Starbucks or two.
Being mom in this situation, and also the ex-wife, is weird. I want to explain to The Kid what is going on, and I don’t want to do it in a way that freaks him out or gets him scared.
I explain it to him as easily and matter-of-factly as I can, and the question bursts out of him: “Is he going to be okay?”
“Yes, honey,” I say, “he’s going to be okay.” And I try not to think about what it would mean if he isn’t.
Also, I’m bringing my ex a coffee in the hospital. Is that weird? I’m hoping not.
I’m grateful that we’ve stayed friends over the years. It makes this a little less odd and nerve wracking than it could be, I suppose.
Hopefully all will be well. Wish him luck!