Young Baby Young

For the past couple of weeks, my back’s been bothering me.  I can’t believe it’s from pregnancy because I haven’t actually gained any weight yet, but there’s no other explanation.  They say Baby Young is about the size of an avocado now, which I suppose is enough to throw off my alignment.  And my beloved online resources do cite backpain as a common complaint at this point in the journey.  But can you guess what their proposed solution was?  I’m too devastated to even talk about it.  You’ll just have to read what the blasphemers wrote:

Wear comfortable shoes and avoid high heels. As your belly grows and your balance shifts, high heels will throw your posture even more out of whack and increase your chances of stumbling and falling.

We (the “collection” and I) spent a few hours saying our tearful goodbyes today.  Please join us for a nation-wide moment of silence at 7:03pm tonight.

It is 1985 and I vividly remember sitting on the steps of George Stevens Academy, talking to a long since forgotten schoolmate, planning out our lives.  I said I’d be graduated from college at 22 and a dad at 23.  OK, so I was a couple of years off on the college graduation thing and a mere 18 years off on having a kid.  C’est la vie.  I couldn’t be more happy and excited than I am now and honestly believe that I’ll be a better dad than I could ever have been had my plans actually come to fruition.

Elizabeth is an amazing person and I’m so lucky to have her in my life.  I think it was cosmic timing that brought us to this place in our lives.  We’re healthy, happy, and very ready for a little one to join us.  Elizabeth has already started to carry the famous “glow” of a new mother and she’s never looked better in my eyes.

We’ve been asked many times if we’re hoping for a boy or girl.  The true answer is that we’re simply hoping for a healthy child.  Either would be just fine with us.  We’ve also been asked if we’re going to find out what gender the baby is and that would be a big affirmative.  We’re both into instant gratification (need to know now!), plus big time planners and knowing whether to re-do the baby’s room in pink or blue is important to us.  Another question we get is if we’ve picked out names yet.  Yes to that too (c’mon, are you really surprised at this point?).  However, unlike the everything else (post June 9, anyway), we’ll keep that to ourselves until the baby is born.  Sorry, that tidbit will stay in the vault until we meet him/her.  The only hint I’ll give is that it doesn’t rhyme with “orange”.

More to come later, as “baby” wants pizza right now, and as all of you know, “what baby wants, baby gets.”

Finally, a lot of you have surprised me with the amount of support you’ve shown and shared.  Your hugs, handshakes, comments, calls, cards, emails, notes, books, stories, advice and letters are all greatly appreciated. 

Peace out, Baby Daddy C

1)  Mom ventured into the basement and dug up all of the keepsake baby items that she’s been dragging around for years.  Mind you, we’ve moved like a billion times since then (or a brazilian times, if you’re Prez Bush), including overseas.  But the good Mom saved them and loving stowed them, “just in case.”  Sure, our child will be 30-35 years out of style, but we’ll claim he/she has some retro flava.  The stash of goods contained many an awesome crocheted item from grandparents and my great-grandmother.      (We think our child, should he turn out to be a boy, will look simply fab in the pink set.  Chris doesn’t think that the George Michael tunes I’m listening to while sitting at the computer are helping things.)

2)  Nathan jumped into the photo shoot and demanded to know what was going on.  I encouraged him to try on a pair of booties.  Note: he did not like the booties he tried on and so immediately tried to destroy them.  (As you would.) 

3)  Nathan was then apologetic about his attempted destroying of the beloved booties.  He put on the charm in an effective attempt to win my love back.    I’m a push-over and it worked.

4)  After all of this, Natalie was feeling very left out.  She and I did our nails to make her feel special.  She didn’t care for the process, but I think she’s really rocking the new look.   

5)  I’ve long proclaimed that people like to give me things.  What can I say?  I’m just that darn likeable.  Case in point: these excellent books were loaned and/or given by Cousin Cindy, Friend Sara, and Coworker Adele.     (This brings me handily to another important point: what the heck are the rest of you slackers waiting for?!  Now accepting gifts at 144 Pleasa…<beeeeeeep>….  Ugh!  “They” tell me they’re blocking this information for my own protection.  …as if giving my address out over the Internet could possibly be harmful.  Hmmph.)

I was feeling artistic this morning and thought you might want to know how Baby Young is progressing, so I busted out my crayons and got to making a little sketch:

Then we took the first belly picture.  I still think it looks like I just ate too much for lunch, but, shrug, it is what it is.

I read the fine-print on my baby receipt.  Returns can only be made within the first 28 days; no partial refunds; no credits.  Well.  I guess I won’t be sending the baby back.  But let this be a lesson to the rest of youse.

I am so miserable right now.  My little sniffles and sore throat is really a case of the flu and I can’t do much to alleviate the discomfort.  The pharmacist said I could take acetaminaphen, but only sparingly, so I’m stuck feeling miserable, although at least my head is no longer throbbing uncontrollably.

In between naps, I’ve been zoning in front of the TV.  Daytime TV is made for stay-at-home moms.  I made a critical error when I watched a few episodes of “A Baby Story” on TLC.  It sounded interesting and informative, right?  Holy sweet hey-seus, I refuse to give birth after watching multiple episodes of this.  I’ve decided that I’m sending the baby back immediately.  I hope I can still find that postage-paid envelope I received when I got pregnant.

I’m mad this morning. 

First, I’m mad at the medical world.  They just love their CYA disclaimers, don’t they?  Apparently, if you’re pregnant, you can’t take anything.  I have a little cold.  No big deal — a little sore throat, some snuffles, the usual.  I couldn’t sleep last night because I couldn’t breathe, so I wandered to the bathroom and rampaged through the cold medicines.  Cherry-flavored Nyquil, disgusting green Dayquil, lemony Chloraseptic, sweet Vicks, menthol eucalyptus cough drops…Eureka! I’ve found it.  Thank goodness I’ll be able to sleep again!  But nooooo.  Each one of those darn bottles advised me to consult my doctor if pregnant.  As if I’m really going to call him at 3:30am to ask about a nasal descongestant.  I stoically went without.

You know what else I hate?  The ads for Mojitos.  They look like such a satisfying summertime drink.  Alas, my doctor thinks that getting the baby drunk at this stage would be ill-advised.  Sigh.

I promised Chris that I wouldn’t go to the gym for a while because vigorous workouts seemed to have a direct correlation with continued spotting.  Much to Chris’s satisfaction, since the workouts have stopped, so has the bleeding.  This is fabulous news, of course, but I’m mad that I can’t keep up with my routines.  I miss them.  I miss my bootcamp class on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, I miss my running training schedule (training for a 5k) that was getting off to a great start, and I miss my Friday spinning classes. 

I’m mad that we don’t know the baby’s gender yet.  We are so instant gratification!  We’re ready to start planning the nursery, buying adorable little baby clothes, selecting names (which will remain secret until the grand unveiling (aka birth)).  Gender can be determined by ultrasound around week 20+ (early August for me) or by amniocentisis (if they opt to do that, which I don’t know yet.)  Our next doctor’s appointment is at the end of the month, so I guess we’ll find out more then.  I can’t believe they expect us to wait so long!  (…as if we’re the only people in the world to have ever been pregnant…)

I consulted the all-knowing internet doctors to learn if I’m progressing normally.  Things are looking pretty darn good…and I’ve seen plenty of doctors on TV, so I think I would know if I’m being misled.

The website says, “Although it’s not uncommon for morning sickness to linger into the second trimester, your sick days are probably coming to an end.”  Yahoo!  I still have a little morning sickness (although rarely in the morning — philosophize on that), but a little food in usually cures that. 

“Now that your nausea is on the way out, it’s time to enjoy food again. You may notice that your appetite grows along with your baby-to-be. Bring on the ice cream and pickles!“  Indeed, the increased appetite has not gone unnoticed.  Someone bring me a salt-lick!  I can’t get enough.  Favorite snacks of recent include pretzels, almonds, pickles, Ritz…anything salty.  In regular life, I walk past salt foods and head straight to the sugar section.  Luckily, during pregnancy, I’ve not been discriminating: at this point, any food is good food.  Amusing story: this morning, Chris and I were carpooling to work.  (Novel idea, seeing as we work in the same building!)  I was rushing around, trying to prepare breakfast and grab my lunch for work, and of course Chris had been ready to leave for at least the past seven minutes.  I made myself a mouth-watering bowl of cereal and then put some delicious bread in the toaster.  Chris asked why I was toasting the delicious bread now when it clearly wouldn’t be warm by lunchtime…to which I disgustedly turned around and said, “LUNCH?!  This is all for breakfast!”  Oh dear.  We both awkwardly looked at other things in the kitchen until the moment passed.

“The baby will pass its first bowel motion called meconium which is a black-green, tar like substance at this stage.“  Eww.  Let’s move quickly past this part.

“Your body’s changing inside and out to accommodate your developing baby. Your internal organs shift positions to make room for an expanding uterus, and your skin stretches to allow your bump to grow outward. You’re finally not just feeling pregnant—you’re looking pregnant, too!“  Liars!  How could my beloved internet lead me astray?  I feel so…so…betrayed!  Actually, I can’t tell if I’m looking pregnant yet.  I keep asking Chris and we inspect me from different angles.  It just looks like fat to me, but it does seem a little more pronounced than it used to be.  I don’t think it’s noticable to the rest of the world.  Chris, on the other hand, is really starting to show.  The doctor suspected he might be nearing his 17th week or so.

“Your breasts went through a big growth spurt during your first trimester that may have left them sore and uncomfortable.“  In fact, I couldn’t button up my blouse today.  As one of my coworkers kindly pointed out, though, at least this time I had a shirt on underneath.  (She is such a brat….)

“You’ll still need to take plenty of trips to the bathroom as your growing baby-to-be puts pressure on your bladder.“  I’m a little worried that the bank is going to start charging me for toilet paper, especially given our new uber-cost-driven mentality.  I bet someone is in a back office calculating my productivity, chalking up angry tallies every time I leave my office and head to the ladies’ room.

“And if there’s a big brother or sister in the house, now is the time to let siblings know that a baby is on the way.“  As previously discussed, that conversation didn’t go over so well.  The dogs were unimpressed.  The birds immediately declared that there was no room in the cage for any one else.  I explained that the baby would have its own cage — bad move.  The birds were totally indignant and demanded to know when they were getting their own cages, too.  Sigh…

“Your baby is about the size of a lime! “  And what a perfect lime he/she is!

We had to tell the dogs the good news, but we were worried about how they would receive it.  We sat them both down and explained that a new baby was coming.  They totally didn’t get it.  Natalie thought we said something about dinner being ready and she started to salivate.  Nathan said that he didn’t know what a baby was, but he didn’t want one.

We decided to try a different approach.  We told them that we were essentially having another dachshund.  Nathan then thought that was pretty cool.  “I’ll show him which things are best to pee on.”  Natalie was, as you might have predicted, confused.  “Huh?  Another what?  Whhhhhy?”  We tried to explain to Nathan [we gave up on Natalie at this point] that it would be a different kind of dachshund.  It would start out about their size and would be on all fours, but its fur would be pretty weak and its snout would be way short.  Nathan still thought it was pretty sweet deal, though. 

And then it was over.  They had had enough. 

Here’s the brief story:

We got pregnant at the end of March.  Super excited.  How are we going to be able to keep this quiet?!  I’m dying to tell everyone I know!  We schedule our first doctor’s visit and prepare to tell the family at a gathering on Mother’s Day.

The Friday before, I start to bleed.  In a panic, I call the hospital and they confirm my fear: it’s likely a miscarriage and I just have to let nature take its course.  We’re devastated.  Over the next two weeks, the bleeding continues and the other pregnancy signs start to go away.  The nausea passes, the tenderness in my body passes, the fatigue continues but that’s explained away by the trauma the body has just gone through.  We mourn the loss of our first baby.

In early June, I go in for my annual physical.  The doctor asks if I’ve had any changes to my general health.  Why yes, I have, now that you mention it.  We discuss the miscarriage and she’s very sorry for me.  She proceeds with the exam and as she’s poking around in there, she frowns: “Your uterus is fuller than I would expect for someone who had a miscarriage a month ago.  I’m going to have them do some bloodwork to see if the pregnancy hormone is still elevated.  My fear is that you never passed the fetus and now your body still thinks its pregnant.”  Things just went from bad to worse.

Friday night, 5:30, the doctor calls back with the lab results.  “I’ve taken the liberty of scheduling an ultrasound for you first thing Monday morning.  The OB and I are worried that this may be a molar pregnancy.”  It’s not good when doctor’s do the scheduling for you–as if I would have dilly-dallied so long that things would have gotten worse.

Monday morning.  Chris and I head to the hospital.  We’ve read up on molar pregnancies over the weekend and things are looking pretty bleak.  Worst case scenario: no further pregnancies for a year, a possibility of chemo treatment required.  We’re anxious as can be waiting for the ultrasound.  We finally get in there and the tech squeezes the official goop on my belly.  We look at the screen and there’s a baby on screen.  Chris and I thought we were looking at the dead baby, which freaked us out, but the lab tech was so jolly about it all.  “And here’s the heartbeat, and see, that’s the hand, and…”  Whoa.  Stop the trolley.  “Are you telling us that the baby is alive?!”  “Oh, yes!  Look at it swimming around in there.  It looks to be a very healthy 13-week old baby.”  Do you laugh or cry at this point?  We did both.