Dealing with Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome (TTTS) is a lot like a horde of zombies!

My earliest struggles with TTTS, and the struggles that I think would be faced with most high risk pregnancies, was dealing with ongoing anxiety. At times there appeared to be little to do but think. And for me, the thinking and questions in my head normally led to negative places. Why did the doctor pause before he said blah? I read an internet story that said blah, is that what will happen to us? What could be happening between this scan and the next one? Why is this happening to us? What's the meaning of this? I told myself that worrying wouldn't help but I couldn't help but worry.

Then I realised that dealing with TTTS is a lot like dealing with a contagious disease outbreak whilst fighting off hordes of zombies. Make sense? OK, then let me explain.

In a recent episode of "The Walking Dead" (a fictional, zombie apocalyptic TV series) two sisters talked about their Dad's teachings in regards to crisis. He essentially told them that during a crisis "You don't get to be upset, you've got a job to do and you deal with it." I'm not saying that as husbands or fathers we become robots and we don't get to feel things. But when crisis hits I'm finding strength in making sure my previous fear inspired questions are being replaced by "What's my job?".

Just over a week ago we were told that we had to have a very risky operation within hours or we would likely lose our twins

1. Blood tests were needed but I don't know the first thing about analysing blood. Not my job.
2. The likelihood of a positive outcome wasn't great but I don't get much of a say in fate. Not my job.
3. The surgery was incredibly difficult, only ~10 people in Australia can perform it. DEFINITELY not my job.

So I got to thinking about what was my job.

Who is going to lighten the mood with a deck of playing cards after the serious conversations were over? That's my job.
Who is going to hold my wife's hand? Gee, I hope she picks me for that one. That's my job.
Who was going to fetch her a cold drink? Ok, so there is a nurse that could do that but is she able to be bedside waiting for the request? No, so that's my job.
Who is going to communicate the news to family afterwards? That's my job.
Who is going to manage post-surgery family visits so that my wife still gets plenty of rest? That's my job.
And finally, who is going to find themselves crying a few joyful tears in an empty ward room after receiving positive news about the surgery? I was surprised but apparently that was my job too.

I've found that simple question of "What's my job?" has given me a great deal of comfort. Questions like "Why is this happening?" have been largely (but not completely) replaced with questions that I can actually answer. How is my wife feeling today? What can I do to reassure and help her? What can I do to support her? Have we booked babysitters for our next appointment? Are the kids still getting enough time from me and 1 on 1 time with their mother?

Finally, sometimes the answer to "What's my job?" needs to be to find time to look after ourselves.  On the weekend, my job was to organise babysitters whilst I went to play basketball for a few hours with my mates. At the time, I briefly thought "With all that is going on, I don't really need to play basketball?". But I went, I relaxed and I felt refreshed and ready to once again take my seat on the TTTS rollercoaster.