(Sitting) Up and at 'em

After weeks of practicing, we're calling it official: Little Man is sitting up on his own. Up until today, he'd topple over at the slightest breeze, but he finally figured out how to use those tummy muscles to right himself before he falls over. We still keep pillows surrounding him, because there's nothing worse than hearing his little head make a "thud" when it hits the floor (even though I know it's not doing any real damage). It also gives us a great excuse to pull out all the great baby blankets and quilts we've been collecting.

Little Man is quite tickled with his new independence, and loves sitting up and swiveling that head around to take in the sights from this new angle. He's starting to streeech and reach for toys. And, of course, his sitting up skills come just in time for Christmas and all those presents I'm sure Santa is going to bring him.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,
I have not been to see you in the store this year, because I am a little hesitant with strangers. I did see you on TV on the Thanksgiving Day parade, and I especially liked your reindeer. I would really like one of those reindeer, but Mommy says the neighborhood we live in is not zoned for flying animals. I have been very good this year. Granted, I am only 4 months old and not mobile yet, so that limits the trouble I can get into. But Mommy and Daddy say I am the best baby ever, and I am inclined to believe them.
I am a very big boy! I am one ounce shy of 20 pounds, and I wear size 12-18 month clothes. I am a super eater, although I am not so sure what I think about the carrots I ate last night. I am so close to sitting up, and my doctor says I'm so big I might skip crawling all together.
I am very interested in the world around me. I like to touch everything. I especially like toys I can grab and shove in my mouth. I love books, especially ones that have pages with things I can feel. Bath time is one of my favorite times of the day, and I love tub toys. I splish and splash and I get everything in the bathroom very wet. This includes my parents, which I think is soooo funny.
I hope you have a very Merry Christmas, and I'm going to leave cookies and coke out for you. And a carrot for your reindeer. And if you decided you want to leave a reindeer, that would be okay too.

Love and babykisses,
Little Man

Happy Thanksgiving!

Little Man's first Thanksgiving is here, kicking off my favorite time of year. I can't wait to do all the fun holiday things with him and Husband that I have always daydreamed about doing with my own family.

I'm so thankful for my son. He's obviously pretty awesome since I can be thankful for him all the time, even right this very second.

When it's 3:34 in the morning on Thanksgiving.

And he's awake. In his swing. Grinning at me.

Again.

Guess he's eager to start the holidays, too.

Baby's First Trip to the Theater

No...I'm not taking my not-quite four month old to the theater. I'm going to take him next year, close to his first birthday, to see this:



I grew up on that silly old bear, and I am thrilled that Little Man will, too.

Grins and Giggles

"When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies. And now when every new baby is born its first laugh becomes a fairy. So there ought to be one fairy for every boy or girl."
--Peter Pan, Act I

Little Man has been smiling for awhile now, but a few days ago we heard his first real, honest-to-goodness laugh. It is quite possibly the best noise I have ever heard. It's a deep, throaty chuckle, and he laughs with his whole body. No high pitched giggles for our Stinker.

Which makes me think that his fairy doesn't dart around lightly like most fairies do. His fairy probably makes himself comfortable on a toad stool somewhere and munches on bits and pieces. Much like Little Man himself.

Trick Or Treat Trauma

I can't believe that Baby's First Halloween has come and gone. For our Halloween weekend we dressed Little Man up like his dad and took him to Husband's work for a children's program on Saturday. Little Man and Husband were adorable clones in their button down polos and jeans, and the costume was a big hit with Husband's colleagues. Little Man felt right at home at his dad's office, and was loved on by many people who had waited anxiously for his arrival throughout my entire pregnancy. We had so much fun--unfortunately, Halloween night was not so fun.

We live in a neighborhood with lots of children. Unfortunately, Husband had to work on Halloween night so I didn't answer the door for trick-or-treaters since I was home alone with Little Man. We had over a dozen knocks and every time a little ghost or goblin banged on the door, Little Man freaked out. The knocks continued on well past Little Man's bedtime of 9:30, and then just when he had FINALLY fallen asleep, someone set off fireworks right outside. Needless to say, we were up well past the witching hour.

Movin' On Up

At three months and about 18 pounds, Little Man has outgrown the pack n' play he's been sleeping in at the foot of our bed. So last night, this Mama Bear took a deep breath and tucked him into his crib in his nursery for his first full night in his room.

It was definitely harder on the parents than it was on the baby! For Little Man, the big move seemed to be a non-event--he slept his normal pattern and seemed unconcerned that the beloved boppy he still sleeps in had moved into a bigger bed. The next step in baby's world of sleep is to get him out of that boppy...he still hates sleeping on his back and will only snooze for about an hour at a time on his side using his sleep positioner.

His bed isn't the only thing that has been upgraded. He's moved out of the infant position in his baby bathtub, and he loves the freedom he has to splash the water around. Bathtime has become one of his favorite times of the day.

He loves sitting up, and spends a lot of time sitting in his bumbo seat watching his Daddy play video games or swatting at a toy his Nana got him that conveniently sticks to the tray (excellent for Mommy sit-down time so I don't have to retrieve the toy a million times). It was just last week that he starting reaching out with intention, and now he consistently grasps at some of his toys. It is amazing how quickly he is developing.

Family dinners at the table are also going to start soon. Little Man's Mamaw and Papaw got him a very cool highchair that fits in an adult chair (great space saver for our apartment which is rapidly filling up with even more baby equipment). While he won't be munching on anything but a bottle for a few more months, he can still sit at the table with us while we eat. I'm so excited to start this family tradition early with him.

Every day it's something new. Now if he would just sleep through the night....

A View From the Other Side

Earlier this week, I took Little Man to his first Mommy & Me class at our local library, delightfully called "Baby Bear LapSit". The teacher led the 15 or so tots in songs, read a few stories, and finished off the program with bubbles and some dance music. I didn't know how Little Man was going to handle it, but...

He LOVED it. He was totally fascinated by all the other kids, and every time the teacher looked at him he gave her a big grin. He's such a little flirt. His favorite part by far was the bubbles--I lifted him up in the air and let the bubbles land on his face. At first he looked startled, but after a moment he smiled up at all the bubbles and waved his hands around in the air. We will definitely be going back next week.

It was a first for the boy, but it was a first for his Mama, too. It was the first time that I attending a program for kids as opposed to teaching it. Between professional and volunteer work, I had been in that teacher's shoes a thousand times. I was worried I would spend the whole time thinking about how I would teach differently, or policing the other children. And while I did reach out a couple of times to stop a potential face-plant in the carpet by another tot (once a nanny, always a nanny), I found that I was able to really enjoy the class with my son. And I remembered how, when I was teaching or nannying, I would watch the parents and feel so envious of them, there with their own child.

Then I looked down at my own little stinker, who was kicking his feet and waving his arms and watching all the action with his wide eyes.

And I knew I had finally arrived.

Projectile Vomit is Not a Myth (And Other Things My Two-Month Old Has Taught Me)

Husband and I are very educated people. Between the two of us, we have five degrees and countless certifications. But still, we learn things every day. And becoming parents has been one of the most educational experiences I have ever had. I thought I knew a lot about babies. I was wrong.

For instance, projectile vomiting is not a myth. I thought it was just an exaggeration. I learned that lesson the hard way when, several weeks ago, my son looked at me, opened his mouth, and sent baby puke all over himself, me, the chair we were sitting in, and the floor. Wow.

And the term "sleeping like a baby"? I would like to know who came up with that. And then I would like to step on their foot, really really hard. Because babies sleep in small increments. Which means Mommy and Daddy sleep in small increments. I saw a statistic that said in the first year of their child's life, parents lose 700 hours of sleep. That's a third of their sleep. And let me tell you, I believe it. Isn't sleep deprivation used as a form of torture in some countries?

Of course, not all of the lessons fall into the negative column. For instance: I had always heard that until 4 or 5 months, babies were like little sacks of flour and didn't do much. Another myth debunked! From day 1, Little Man was engaging and now more than ever wants to interact with us. There is never a dull moment, and since I am officially a stay-at-home Mama, I am lucky enough to get to see all the little nuances emerge in his development and personality (and video record them for Husband, who makes it possible for me to be at home).

I thought I knew a lot about raising babies, from my own experiences as a nanny and from the gazillion parenting books I read while I was pregnant. The biggest thing that Little Man has taught me? Nothing can prepare you for having your own baby. And having your own rocks.

Time Flies When You're Having Fun!

So, apparently people weren't kidding when they told me to enjoy my free time while I was pregnant...because I would never have it again.

Our Little Man is nearing his two-month mark, and time sure flies when you're having fun. Every day there is something new to experience, and there is never a dull moment.

I promise to be a better blogger in the coming days, but for now there is a really adorable curly-topped cutie-pie who is sitting next to me on the couch, demanding my attention. And the baby is sitting on his lap. :)

One Handed Eating (And Other Joys of New Parenthood)

We're a month into this parenting thing, and I think we're doing a pretty good job. Of course, Husband and I can't take all the credit--I think we have an exceptionally well behaved baby on our hands. We are still lucky that he doesn't cry unless there is something he is trying to tell us. He's had his fair share of meltdowns, mostly because of over stimulation--the first few times we had marathon screaming sessions, but now that we know what calms him those are few and far between.

My favorite parts of the day are when Little Man is alert. He is often in a very good mood after a nice nap and a bottle, and he is content to hang out in the corner of our couch in his "chair"--a genius setup of pillows Husband devised for him. Other times, he is a lap baby. Perched on a knee, he'll look around the room with his giant eyes, head swiveling all over the place. He is surprisingly good at holding up his own head at just a little over 5 weeks old. And other times, he is a Snuggle Monster. I have whiled away many hours over the past couple of weeks sitting in the rocker with Little Man settled in the crook of my arm, enjoying the view of the living room. On such occasions, the newly learned skill of one-handed eating comes in handy. You'd be surprised at what can be eaten one-handed: sandwiches and cookies,yes, but even soup can be managed if you are very careful. The hardest thing I have found to eat one-handed is my favorite staple of saltines with peanut butter on them--mainly because peanut butter is very hard to clean off an infant's forehead, and the cracker always lands peanut butter side down. Oops.

As I mentioned before, Husband has become very good at creating little chairs and nests out of pillows and blankets. As he takes the early morning feeding to let me get a little sleep in, I often come into our living room to discover a well placed pile of comfiness where Little Man has been hanging out with his Dad. It makes me smile every morning. I can't wait to watch them evolve into forts as he gets older.

I have been surprised at just how fun it is to hang out with a person who is still mastering control of his own hands. Little Man has started "talking" to us--little coos here and there when he's happy. My favorite thing in the world is when he sneezes. He always does it twice in a row, and he always lets out a little "Ooo" when he's done. I love it.

I have developed the mommy nose of steel, allowing me to be immune to whatever smell comes out of my son's diaper. At least until he begins solid food. And speaking of diapers, Little Man is quite the diaper Houdini. He can pee out of his diaper and cover himself and me in a giant wet spot without even getting the diaper wet. I am baffled as to how he accomplishes this task. Husband says it's retaliation for all the cute outfits I force on the baby. I'm afraid he might be right.

Yes, Husband and I have developed an arsenal of new parent tricks. But just when I think we've got it figured out, Little Man does something new, and the game plan switches to month-old baby tricks. Or it-is-4-AM-and-the-baby-is-WIDE-awake tricks. Whatever the case may be, I'm sure we'll continue to find creative ways to deal with our son--hopefully as fast as he can come up with reasons for us to do so.

3 Weeks on the Outside

Little Man has been in the world for three weeks now...where did the time go? I feel like I blinked, and nearly a month has gone by.

He's got a pretty good life. He's a healthy boy, except for a B12 vitamin issue. We've been working with his peditrician and a geneticist to figure out why he doesn't have the correct amount of B12 in his system. Most likely, it's my fault...turn's out Mama Bear's diet of pasta and cheese isn't very well rounded. I have changed my diet significantly since he came into the world, and since I'm nursing, it should affect Little Man in a positive way. He also got a B12 shot at the peditrician's office earlier this week. He gets tested again in several weeks to see if those things solved the problem.

He's blown past his birthweight...he's up to 9 pounds, 4 ounces and he's grown about an inch. He's very alert, and while he still sleeps a lot, he's very interactive when he's awake. He sleeps for four hour streches at night and continues to be fond of 3 AM.

His dark hair is starting to lighten up a little bit and is very curly, especially post-bath. Speaking of baths, he's not so sure about them yet...but for the most part, he doesn't seem to mind them. He's starting to discover his tongue, and sticks it out a lot and tries to grab it with his hands. He manages to find his thumb every now and then, and that pleases him greatly.

He's a happy baby, and that makes for a happy (albeit sleeeeepy) family.

I Hold These Truths to be Self-Evident

As a new mother, I hold these truths to be self-evident:

--There is nothing beautiful about the labor process. Amazing and overwhelming, yes. Beautiful, no.

--Real world time is now irrelevant. My life is lived largely in weeks (as in, my baby is 2.5 weeks old), followed by hours (as in, my baby eats every three hours) and I have no concept of day/night anymore. When I was pregnant, it was acceptable to eat a cheeseburger for a breakfast because of cravings. Now, it is acceptable because I survive on increments of two hours of sleep and the concept of "dinnertime" is abstract.

--There is much thought and worry about poop. I lay in bed thinking, "when was the last time my kid pooped?" and worry if it hasn't been recently.

--Contrary to popular belief, newborn babies are not lumps. Every day I see Little Man change and progress. It brings me so much joy to watch him develop, but it brings me sadness, too. He won't be a baby for long, and I am trying to enjoy every minute.

--There is a clear definition between "now" and "then". Things that stressed me out before Little Man don't seem as important now. Or maybe I'm just not letting them get to me like they did before. Why spend energy on drama caused by other people when I could spend that energy cooing at the cutest baby ever?

--Things take waaaay longer. Take writing this blog entry, for example. 3+ hours. Type a few lines, have a snuggle. Another few lines, make a bottle. A few more lines--oh yeah, better feed myself and my husband.

--There is nothing better than holding a sleeping baby. Because 8 pounds of warm, sweet-smelling, wrapped-up baby is the best thing in the world. And because he's finally....finally...ASLEEP.

Those Three Little Words

As I mentioned before, after Little Man was born, Husband and I hit the ground running. We didn't have any down time in the hospital because of the schedule in the Special Care Nursery, then driving back and forth to the hospital, then the normal wacky schedule of having a new baby in the house. For a week, we managed pretty well-- we took turns getting up with baby (every.two.hours), I made dinners and I even managed to clean the house.

Then, everything caught up with me. I developed some postpartum issues that made it impossible for me to take care of myself--let alone Little Man. It wasn't anything serious, but I will spare you the gory details and just say I was out for the count.

For about two days, Husband managed to handle everything. Then his parents came to visit. I didn't have the energy to move the day they arrived--I willingly handed over Little Man to my father-in-law and didn't blink an eye when my mother-in-law headed into the kitchen to cook and clean. For those of you that don't know me well, this is very unlike me--I'm the kind of person who spends hours cleaning to say "oh, this mess?" when complimented on my house. No one gets to play in my kitchen but me--I have a pattern, a system, and yes--OCD.

But it was a relief when my mother-in-law made me a hot dinner--when was the last time I had eaten? I didn't have the energy to cook anything real, so I had been eating a lot of teddy grahams and ramen noodles.

Little Man slept through their visit, and woke up almost immediately after they left. By that point both of us--Husband especially--had reached the end of the line. He helped me feed Little Man, then he went to bed. And I called my mother, and said those three little words that have always been the hardest for me to say.

I need help.


I am pleased to say that things are much better in our household now--after a week long stay from my mom and several trips in from my mother in law. In fact, after my in-laws left us that afternoon, my mother-in-law called my mother and let her know that I was not myself, and my "don't worry, I'm fine" phone calls weren't entirely the truth. It was a relief to let someone else take over: to cook food, clean baby bottles and--gasp--do my laundry. It gave Husband the chance to rest and gave me the chance to recover. We probably should have done that the very first week. I think it was a delightful combination of the hospital doing a poor job of emphasizing the need for help, and me just not listening when they did.

I am, and always have been, terrible at asking for help. But I realize now that I need it--it really does take a village. And now that I've had a little rest and feel better, I can enjoy Little Man more--even at 3 AM, when he wakes up and makes his hungry baby bird face. Even in a half-asleep daze, that baby bird face makes me smile.

So thank you to my mom, my in-laws, and especially my husband for realizing I needed help before I did. I promise that next time, I'll just ask.

Eat. Sleep. Poop. Repeat.

That's what little babies do, right? And Little Man is no different. Only it's more like eateateatEATsleepEATEATsleepPOOOOOOOP.

Ah, little boys.

Getting to Know You, Getting to Know All About You...

It's hard to believe our baby boy is already a week old. I still haven't lost that overwhelming surreal feeling, although it is being pushed aside by a big case of new-parent exhaustion. Since Little Man spent some time in the Special Care nursery while at the hospital and didn't come home until the day after we did, I feel like Husband and I hit the ground running immediately after his delivery. We were allowed to hang out with him every three hours in the Special Care nursery, which we did around the clock for several days. The nurses kept telling me to skip feedings and get rest, which was probably good advice. However, between getting stiched up after his delivery and when they realized he needed to be monitored, I only had about an hour with him and couldn't stand the thought of him waking up and being cared for by a stranger. So we could be found at all hours of the day in the Special Care nursery, even after we had checked out of the hospital.

But now we're home, and I get to snuggle and love on him all I want. It is a wonderful and overwhelming feeling. And at a week old, we're all getting to know each other: Husband and I are getting to know our baby, he's getting to know us, and Husband and I are even getting to know each other again--as Mommy and Daddy. So far Little Man has quite a personality--some of which I recognize from his time on the inside. He likes to have his hands up by his face, just like he always did in his ultrasound photos. He HATES having his diaper changed, and yells mightily the minute his back touches the changing table. In fact, he has very little tolerance for being on his back in general. He has been a good sleeper, and while he's not insistent that someone hold him all the time, he prefers to snooze propped up in his boppy or his swing on an incline.

Little Man is a super eater, and blows through bottles and nurses like a champ. He's also all boy, and his burps often sound like he belongs in a frat house. We always know when he's filled up his diaper because of the unmistakable sound and satisfied smile on his face after the fact.

He has defined alert periods of the day, and while they are short right now, he loves to interact with us and check out the world around him. Much like when he was in the tummy, he still enjoys 3 AM. This morning from 3 to 4 found us wandering around the house in the semi-darkness, looking at photographs and out all the windows. He didn't fuss, he was just wide awake.

Speaking of wide awake, this mama bear is not right now. While Little Man snoozes contentedly in his swing, I'm going to take this opportunity to get to know something I haven't had the chance to spend a lot of time with recently: my pillow.

The First 24 Hours: Crash Course in Parenting

Life, my friends, is a whole new ball game.

From the moment our little guy entered the world and, through the noise and hustle and bustle that seemed to accompany the last few moments of labor, I heard the doctor say, "look down, look at your baby!" I have been living in a surreal world.

It was then, and still seems to be, almost impossible to wrap my head around the fact that what was once an abstract thought is now a solid little creature wrapped up in a baby burrito I can hold in my arms. When they whisked the baby away to clean out his lungs after delivery, I shared a sweet moment with my husband then insisted he follow the baby the five feet across the room to make sure he was okay. The time immediately following delivery is a little hazy to me--between the exhaustion and drugs all I can remember was demanding of everyone who came near me, "is he okay?" I remember hearing the baby squeal and my husband laugh from across the room, and that comforted me. He wouldn't be laughing if there was something wrong. I heard the nurse ask Husband, "does Dad want to hold him?" and then I watched, in that instant, my husband become a father. I knew he would be a fantastic parent, but I have been blown away watching my husband with our son--it is the most natural and easy love I think I have ever seen.

It was over an hour before I got Little Man into my arms--he was alert and looking around and following the sound of our voices. I immediately unwrapped him and counted fingers and toes (20 in total) and ran my hand down--you guessed it--that perfect little spine.

Unfortunately, Little Man has a couple of health issues that needed to be addressed--some jaundice, which is solved by a few days spend under the blue lights of a bililight, and some rapid breathing caused by a little fluid in the lungs. In the grand scheme of things, no big deal at all. But when the nurse looked at me after we'd been settled into our recovery room for less than an hour and said, "I'm not trying to distress you, but..." I thought my stomach was going to hit the floor. He started out in our room and was moved to the Special Care Nursery to be monitored more carefully. Husband jokes that one day he's going to tell our son he started out life in the spotlight with a series of his very own pretty nurses at his beckon call.

It was surprising, after all was said and done, to stop and think about doing something like checking my e-mail. It was even more surprising to realize I didn't really care what was waiting for me in my e-mail. Or in the news. Or in the blogs I usually religiously read. I am happy, for the time being, to live in my little microcosm of the hospital, where Little Man is all I have to think about and there is a never ending supply of apple juice and graham crackers in the little pantry down the hall.

I've taken care of a lot of kids in my life as a nanny. Everyone told me it would be different when it was my own. And they were right. It is so, so, SO much better.

Husband is Officially on Vacation

My husband is officially on vacation.

Usually on vacation, we get up before the sun to make the long drive to Orlando to enjoy Disney World.

This morning, we made the much shorter drive to the hospital, where our son was born a few hours later.

I won't say that labor and delivery was more fun that a trip to Disney World.

But I'm bringing home a way better souvenir.

Welcome to the world, sweet baby boy--all 8 pounds, 4 ounces and 21 inches of you. Welcome to your chubby cheeks and your head of dark hair, and to your long fingers and green eyes.

We've been waiting a long time for you.

Things I Will Miss About Being Pregnant....and Things I Will Not.

Things I will miss:

• Feeling the baby kick. Probably the best part of pregnancy ever.
  
• Being just a twosome with my Husband. Life will never be the same once baby makes three, and I have enjoyed every minute of being a pair.
  
• The anticipation of what our son will be like. The past nine months have been a delightful guessing game of hair color, personality and characteristics. I'm sure that once we meet our boy, we won't be able to fathom him any other way, so it's fun to imagine now.
  
• The comfy clothes. I know that soon the big shirts and yoga pants will no longer be acceptable to leave the house in.

• Feeling no guilt about eating two brown sugar and cinnamon pop tarts for breakfast. Yum.

Things I will not miss:

• Going to the bathroom every 20 minutes.
  
• Swelling up. Everywhere. Sure, you expect your hands and feet to swell, but what about your gums and your earlobes? Ouch.
  
• Having to sleep on my side. And having to alternate sides often because my legs fall asleep.
  
• Heart burn. Oh, the bane of my existence.
  
• The comfy clothes. I am so excited to start exercising and getting my shape back so that I feel confident in things other than big shirts and yoga pants.
  
• Contractions, fake and real. I've been having fake ones since week 20, and real ones since week 35. Over it.
  
• People telling me their birthing horror stories and how much their babies weighed. I have heard more tales of 13 pound babies in the past three weeks than most people hear in a lifetime.

All our bags are packed, we're ready to go...

After being told that our little guy could make his appearance any time now, we got serious about preparation.

The bags are packed. And already in the car.

The car seat is installed, secure, and balanced.

The crib is assembled and made up.

The changing table, also assembled, is well stocked with wipes, diapers, butt paste, diaper-changing distractions, and the daddy-to-be tool belt.

The baby clothes are washed and hanging (in accordance to size) in the nursery closet.

The linen closet is full of clean baby wash cloths and towels, and the bathroom is stocked with infant care necessities and the baby bathtub is hanging in the shower.

The stroller is ready and waiting by the front door.

The freezer is well stocked with food.

We have done everything two people can possibly do to prepare for a baby's arrival. We are as ready as we're gonna be.

However, we didn't take into account the feelings of the other person in this scenario--namely our son, who seems to be quite content to be getting bigger every day and stretching my belly to epic proportions.

We had our 39-week appointment today--baby is healthy and big, with a strong heartbeat....and no change in effacement or dilation. Little stinker. I'm still having regular contractions, so I'll be going back in three days to check again. The doctor mentioned talking about induction at the point, but unless I'm in agony (which I'm not right now, just some discomfort) I think we'll let nature do its thing.

Of course, if nature wanted to speed things up just a little bit, that would be okay too.

A Look Back: Baby Tell Tour 2009

Even once we knew we were expecting, we kept the news to ourselves for awhile. Eight weeks, to be exact. We wanted to have the "confirmation of pregnancy" check-up first and see our little one's heartbeat before sharing the good news.

Much like the day I got the positive test, the day of that first doctors visit was rainy and chilly. It was an early morning appointment, and Husband and I were quiet on the drive. There were no outward signs that I was expecting, of course, and we were still both a little nervous about being too excited. By the time we entered the room for what would be our son's very first photo session, I felt like I was either going to cry hysterically or laugh hysterically--or maybe both.

And then there it was. On the screen, surrounded by what looked like TV static, was a little flickering circle. A heartbeat. A strong one, too. There was that little four rung ladder for a spine, and an indistinct circle--his head. "BABY", the technician typed out on the screen next to his head, and printed out our very first photo.

To be quite honest, after that I tuned out. All I needed to see was that heartbeat, and I was set. I'm sure the tech told us other things that day, like how he sized up, but I have no recollection of that. We met with the doctor after that, who I'm sure had plenty of informative things to say to us. It all went in one ear and out the other. My baby had a heartbeat and, for all intents and purposes, was healthy.

We started sharing our happy news the next day. I called Godmother Doctor and casually mentioned we needed to go shopping for baby clothes the next time she was in town. Her shriek was probably heard several blocks away. Then we had dinner with Godfather Engineer and Godmother Teacher. We apologized for being so late with our Christmas cards, and handed them one containing the ultrasound photo. When they opened it, we all cried.

The next night we drove to have dinner with Husband's parents. The picture in the card had been so successful the evening before we decided to do it again. This was slightly more tricky as I was not feeling particularly well that day, and we sat talking with my in-laws for several hours before we told them the news. My mother-in-law is an OBGYN nurse, and I was sure she was going to see right through me. I sat on pins and needles, trying not to excuse myself to go to the bathroom more than a normal person would. When we finally handed over our holiday card, my mother-in-law's squeal of delight was completely worth it. My father-in-law insisted I order a very big dessert, and has at every meal we've shared since then. Not that I'm complaining in the least, mind you.

On the third night we went to dinner with my mother and uncle. When we handed them their card, my mother stared at it for a moment. "Do you know what it is?" I asked her. She kept staring at it. "It's your grandchild." Her reaction was much the same of mine when I heard the heartbeat for the first time--it took about a day for the news to truly sink in. Since then, I think her excitement has grown exponentially. My uncle's reaction was classic--I'm pretty sure he jumped right out of his chair, cheering.

Word spread, and soon all the uncles and aunts and friends knew that our family would be expanding at the end of the summer. Telling everyone was the highlight of our holiday season--we were met with such enthusiasm and support that I was almost disappointed when we ran out of people to tell.

Soon after, we created this blog to keep all those enthusiastic people well informed--and well, you know the rest of the story.

As We Move Forward...A Look Back

I woke up content this morning. After six hours of being on my feet yesterday in an attempt to "walk the baby out" and a refusal to nap, I managed to get five straight hours of sleep last night...no small feat for someone who usually visits the bathroom every half hour. And while five hours doesn't seem like much, the fact that it all came at once was a welcome treat.

I laid in bed, listening to the birds sing outside the window and feeling the baby bounce around in my tummy. Not long now...

It made me think about the start of this adventure. Back in November, I was tired. Looking back, I really should have seen it coming. But I had just lost my job suddenly, making me rethink my career choice and life path, and I was a little blue. So I didn't think anything of it when I could hardly hold my eyes open at my niece's second birthday party, and had to have Husband retrieve a caffieinated drink for me during brunch. I didn't think anything of it a few days later, when I had errands to run and just couldn't drag myself out of bed. I cut my shopping list down to the bare minimum and headed out into the drizzly, chilly weather to CVS where I bought 3 cases of pepsi (they were on sale!), a box of cheese nips, laundry detergent and a pregnancy test.

We had been trying to start a family for awhile. We weren't being too particular about it--I was trying not to obsessively count cycle days and things like that--but I usually kept a home test on hand just in case. And they were on sale too--a three pack, which meant I wouldn't have to buy them for awhile. And, even though it was still early, I was pretty positive I would need them in the following months. I already felt crampy and cranky as I drove home.

So imagine my surprise several hours later when the little digital screen on the test lit up with the word "pregnant". I stared at it. I was so used to seeing "not pregnant" that for a minute my brain couldn't comprehend it. I had always had all of these grand ideas about how I was going to tell Husband we were expecting, but they all flew out of my head as I walked into the living room and said to him, "when you have a minute, I need to show you something."

Maybe it was my tone, or the look on my face, but he immediately stopped what he was doing. I held up the test. "It's positive," I said, and promptly burst into tears.

We didn't throw a party quite yet--about a year before I'd had a miscarriage and we were hesitant to get too excited too soon. So very calmly, I called my doctor and scheduled blood tests to make sure the correct hormone levels were going up. Four days later, after two pokes of a needle, a nurse called me.

"Your levels look great," she said. "They're going up just like they should."

And then, we were excited. The fact that I'd taken the test in the middle of the afternoon (not in the morning, as is suggested) and far before it should have been positive didn't mean there was something wrong. It meant there was something right.

Stay tuned for the second half of "A Look Back: Baby Tell Tour 2009".

Pregame

When we sent out invitations to our family baby shower, we asked people to join us for "the big game"--AKA, the birth of our baby boy. Well, sports fans, we have officially arrived at the pregame.

A successful visit to our doctor a few days ago brought the happy news that we are out of "pre-labor" and into actual labor--albeit the early stages. I am 70% effaced and 1-2 inches dilated, which means my body is doing what it should to get ready for the proverbial kickoff.

During pregame, players warm up so that when the time comes and the crowd is cheering and adrenaline is pumping, they can score points without thinking about it. In the same vein, my tummy is contracting very regularly and with increasing strength, so that when it matters, our little guy can make a smooth entrance into the world (toooouchdown, baby!).

The crowd during pregame is always super excited, and our family and friends are the same way. Everyone is waiting on pins and needles--Husband has a plan set up at work so he can leave at a moments notice on "vacation". Godparents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents check in on a regular basis. I wouldn't be surprised if some of them showed up in the hospital waiting room with big foam fingers.

Everyone knows that pregame is often the most exciting part of the game. The air is ripe with possibility. Everyone has energy. Anything could happen! No one is overheated from sitting in the hot stands, no one has spilled soda down the front of them, and no one feels sick from consuming too much game day food. The anticipation of getting to meet our little guy is almost unbearable, but in a good way--and I'm consuming as much pregame food as possible, because once that scoreboard clock starts ticking down, it's ice chips and saltines until way after the stands are empty.

So we're enjoying pregame as much as possible, because I know in a blink of an eye, it will be the end of the fourth quarter.

Our Little Man?....Not So Little.

After being told that baby boy could make an appearance within hours (or weeks), Husband and I came home from the hospital and focused on finishing up the last few things on our baby "to do" list. A trip to Target rounded out the last supplies we needed (wipes, baby lotion, and a glow worm--all totally necessary items) and we made sure our bags were packed with the items we absolutely could not do without. The day after our adventure in the hospital we arrived at our doctor's office, eager to see if there had been any change and to get a peek at our little guy and determine if he was in the right position.

Unfortunately, our appointment left us disappointed. There were no doctors available to see us, so we have agreed to have a midwife do the exam--we prefer doctors, but we figured in this case a midwife would be able to tell us what we needed to know. Then we found out I was going to be seen by a midwife resident--who I'm sure is fully qualified, but she wasn't prepared for a visit that was outside the ordinary 37 week visit, which ours definitely was.

She couldn't tell us where the baby was positioned, and couldn't tell if I was dilated because she didn't want to make me more uncomfortable than I already was. I felt like flicking her on the nose and telling her to heck with my discomfort and figure out what was going on, but I did not. As she walked out the door, she told us brightly, "well, go home and if you have the baby tonight, we'll know you were dilated!"

(For the record: I know having a baby is an imprecise art. I know there are no ways, outside of a scheduled C-section, to be able to tell when a baby will arrive. But please, PLEASE--don't say something like that to a woman who is 9 months pregnant, swollen all over and contracting every 10 minutes. Especially if you're a resident who doesn't even have an MD and has never had a baby. It will not be received well.)

So we headed home with no news to tell and an ultrasound appointment for the next morning. The ultrasound tech immediately put our C-section fears to rest as our son came into view on the little computer screen--head down, bum aimed towards my right arm, little feet on the left. We saw his little heart pumping away, could count toes and fingers, and saw that he was practicing "breathing" with his diaphragm--all good signs that he was happy and healthy. We got a nice shot of his profile, and the tech said he has chubby cheeks (I have no idea how she could tell). She took his measurements and plugged them into her fancy algorithm to estimate how much he weighs.

"Looks like he's at...oh," she paused when she saw the number. "7 pounds, 2 ounces. That's a big baby."

A big baby indeed! He's about a pound over the high end of average for his age. If he stays until he's full term, we could be looking at a baby who will check into this world at over 9 pounds.

And, despite the contractions that are still coming regularly and the other end-of-pregnancy discomforts, he seems quite content to stay where he is. Instead of obsessing over when he will make his appearance, I am trying to enjoy the time with Husband while it's still the two of us, put all the finishing touches on the nursery, and relax while I can.

Let the waiting game begin!

Blame It On The Moon

There are a lot of old wives tales out there, but there is one I hear more than the others--that babies come when there are full moons. Our little man's official due date actually falls on a full moon. However, I never thought to worry about the full moon the month before he was due.

Don't get excited...baby has not made three yet. However, he must have been listening when the doctor told us that once we made it through the 36th week, he would be considered full term and we should be prepared that he could make an appearance any time. Because at exactly that point, baby boy decided to shake things up.

It started out innocently enough--Husband and I were sent to the hospital last night to have some swelling checked out. We had to check in at Labor and Delivery, where at least a half dozen women in various states of pregnancy checked in while we were there.

"It's the full moon," the lady at the front desk said. "It'll keep me busy tonight."

We were sent to a room, where a very sweet nurse said it was standard procedure that they hook me up to a fetal heart monitor and a monitor to watch my uterus while she examined me for the problem we had come for. Well, the swelling was quickly forgotten when the nurse realized I was having fairly regular contractions. She decided it would be a good idea to check my cervix just in case I was dilated and in labor and, oh, hadn't noticed.

(Things they don't tell you in "What to Expect When You're Expecting" #1: Cervical exams are extremely painful and not at all fun. )

There was nothing to report there, so the nurse went to speak to the attending doctor. While she was gone, Husband and I chatted about where we were going to eat on the way home.

When she came back, she had reinforcements...another nurse and a Very.Big.IV.Needle.

(Things they don't tell you in "What to Expect When You're Expecting" #2: The IV needles they use are the size of drinking straws. )

The nurse explained that they wanted to give me IV fluids and watch the contractions--if they were braxton hicks, like I had assumed they were, they would stop with the fluids. If not, it could be a sign that I was in labor.

Labor? LABOR?!? I came in for swelling, people! Not labor! My mind went a mile a minute--I hadn't eaten since lunch. My phone battery was almost dead. We didn't have a change of clothes or our hospital bags. I needed my bags!

The nurse assured me that even if I was in labor, there would be plenty of time for Husband to go home and retrieve everything we needed. I tried not to think about the fact that the bags weren't even packed.

(My bags! I want my bags!)

I didn't have time to worry for long, however, because the nurse stuck the straw IV in my arm and, despite my "excellent" veins, had to start over on the other arm. Ouch.

And then I was distracted by our little man's heartbeat on the monitor, along with his movements...it was fun to "hear" him respond to the nurse when she poked my belly, and to the sound of his dad's voice. Husband and I were then left alone to mull over the fact that there was a possibility we'd be taking our baby home at the end of this trip.

(With no bags!)

By then, it was well past 2 AM, and we tried to get some sleep--just in case we needed the energy to have a baby the next morning. Husband managed to doze off, but I remained awake most of the night--mainly due to our son acting in the way that has become typical of him: every time the nurse would get the monitor picking up his heartbeat, he would move away, causing the nurse to return to our room and relocate him. This happened at least a dozen times, and we located his heartbeat on all four corners of my belly. The nurse was absolutely stumped as to what position he may be in. He was obviously enjoying his game, and luckily, we had a nurse with a good sense of humor.

It was a very long night. Thanks to all the fluid they were pumping into me, I went to the bathroom a gazillion times.

(Things they don't tell you in "What to Expect When You're Expecting" # 3: It is very difficult to go to the bathroom when you're in a hospital gown, dragging an IV pole attached to the garden hose in your right arm, with a bleeding first attempt at the IV insertion on the left arm, two monitors and cords wrapped around your belly, and swollen feet.)

However, it wasn't what I would call a bad night. In between the bathroom trips and the monitor adjustments, I was comforted by the sounds of my baby on one side of me and my sleeping husband on my other. I watched Husband's face while he snoozed, relaxed and with his long lashes shut--I hope our little man has his daddy's eyelashes.

Around five AM, the nurse came in to adjust the monitor and stayed to chat. My contractions, which had gotten stronger as the night wore on, were now coming two minutes apart. Very kindly, she told me to prepare for the idea that labor later that day was pretty likely.

(Even though I didn't have our bags).

Several hours later, Husband and I waited anxiously for the new shift nurse to come in and see what was going on in my lower half. I have to admit, I felt a pang of disappointment when there was no change to my cervix and the nurse told us we could go home. Since I was still having contractions (not as close together as they had been, but stronger) it could be hours--or weeks--before our baby made his appearance.

(Things they don't tell you in What to Expect When You're Expecting #4: Just because you're having contractions doesn't mean you're having a baby. )

So home we went, still contracting, still swollen, and with no baby. But we have a doctor's appointment tomorrow and everything will get checked again--we'll also have an ultrasound to see if baby is breech. If he is, that could explain why I had contractions all night and nothing else. If that's the case, we'll talk about our options of getting him to turn and c-sections. But that's a worry for tomorrow.

For the rest of the night, I'm just going to worry about packing our bags.

Three Years Ago Today, One Month Away: A Letter to my Husband

Dear Husband,
Three years ago today, you woke me up with a text message at 5 AM: "Good morning, baby, are you awake?" I was--I had been laying in the semi-darkness of a hotel room, listening to the even breathing of Godmother Doctor in the bed next to me for some time. She, like me, has never been a morning person--when we shared a room in college, I often woke her up from across the room to avoid getting a pillow hurled at my head. But three years ago today, she woke up with a smile on her face and no argument about the early hour.

My parents were in the room that adjoined to the one she and I were sharing. My Godmother was next door to them, and you and your family, plus Godfather Engineer and Godmother Teacher, were a few hallways down. I woke my parents up--my Dad was already awake and waiting to see if I actually got up on time--and Godmother Doctor and I left our hotel room together to go find coffee for everyone.

The morning was beautiful--it had rained the night before, but the day was dawning clear and bright. The hotel grounds were lovely--Disney has a way of making everything perfect, and the resort hotel we were staying in did not disappoint. The theme of our resort was old Southern elegance, and everywhere you looked were grand oak trees and hydrangeas and magnolias. Every now and then a bunny would run across our path as we made our way to the main building of the resort where the big plantation dining hall was located.

Godmother Doctor and I found you there--you were finishing up a breakfast and reading the paper. I did not think it was bad luck that I saw you. Nothing could have brought me bad luck that morning.

You walked us back to our rooms, then kissed me on the forehead--I wouldn't see you for several hours. I wanted you to stay--I hadn't liked being away from you the night before, but it was Disney policy. We delivered the coffee to the waiting family members, and the preparations began: hair was curled, make-up was applied, jewelry was donned. The time seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, I was in a limo with Godmother Doctor and your sister, who was encouraging me to eat part of a bagel.

"She won't eat it," Godmother Doctor told her.
"Too nervous to eat?" Your sister asked sympathetically.
"She never eats in the morning," Godmother Doctor answered, surprised. "She's not nervous."

And I wasn't nervous. I wasn't nervous when the limo arrived at our destination--your sister hurried inside to join you and your family but Godmother Doctor stayed with me in the comfortable little room that was just off the chapel. We were the last to arrive, and while we waited the final few minutes for the planner to get everyone settled inside, we joked around and took pictures. I wasn't nervous when she left to join everyone in the chapel, leaving me alone for the first time in several days. I wasn't nervous when the planner came to get me, or as I took my place next to my Dad behind the double doors that would lead us into the chapel. A bell tolled 12 times, the doors opened, and music started: "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes", from Cinderella. I was not nervous as I walked up the aisle--I took in the beautiful chapel that I had previously only seen in photos and the Samantha Brown "Great Hotels" episode I had watched obsessively in the past weeks. What struck me was the light--there were so many windows and the sunshine streamed in. I was not nervous as I winked at my mother, who started to cry, or as I saw the picture perfect window that framed Cinderella's castle. And after my father announced that it was he and my mother who gave me over to you that day, and the ceremony started, my only thought was of you--the pressure of your hand in mine, the smile on your lips, and the way your eyes never strayed from my face.

It is with love and joy that your families are with you on this happy occasion, as a new branch of the family tree is begun. From this day forward, you will stand together, hand in hand.

Three years ago today we started the new branch, and a month from today, our branch expands--it is the official due date of our son. Whether or not he will come on that day is up to him, but the special quality of that date is not lost on me.

The past three years have not always been easy. But--and I am not exaggerating this at all on the sentimental occasion of our wedding anniversary--the challenges we have faced have not been internal. We have never gone to bed angry or raised our voices to each other. We have never stormed out on each other or intentionally caused pain. We have weathered life, and it's ups and downs, just as our wedding vows described: together, hand in hand. We are lucky, lucky people--we have something, I am sure, that most people search for all of their lives and rarely find.

A month from today, we add to our family. I will admit--I am more nervous about the pending arrival of our son than I was walking down the aisle. Don't get me wrong--it's not because I have any doubts about our abilities. I just think getting this little dude out of my ever-expanding belly isn't going to be as easy as getting dressed up in a princess gown and having fabulous photographs taken in The Magic Kingdom.

Yes, I know it won't be easy--parenting isn't. I may be nervous about a lot of things when it comes to the newest addition, but you--we-- are not one of them. They say fairy tales don't come true. That you're not supposed to wait for Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet, and that in this day and age, there are no "happily ever afters". Well, we're proving them all wrong--together, hand in hand.

I love you.

Your Wife

Always Be Prepared...

There is a lot to think about when you're expecting a new baby in the house. Not only do you have to arm yourself with all the gear a baby needs, but you have to know how to use the gear and--more importantly--what to do when the gear ceases to work and the baby is STILL crying.

I had no doubt that my husband was going to handle above-mentioned situations just fine--he tends to be pretty unflappable. But he received a couple of things at our showers that now have me absolutely sure.

The first, given to him by a colleague who has worked with him enough to understand how his brain works, is a box set called "The Baby's Owner's Manual: Operating Instructions, Trouble-Shooting Tips and Advice on First-Year Maintenance", and includes a book, a handy fill-in-the-blank notepad for caregivers, magnets and a growth chart. The book is the real gem of this set, and reads like a car manual of baby instructions. Some of my favorite pearls of wisdom include:

• The first chapter, entitled "Preparation and Home Installation" starts out by saying, "please inspect your model carefully and check for all standard parts described previously. If any parts appear to be missing or inoperational, it is recommended that you consult the baby's service provider immediately." It also offers tips on "selecting and installing a pacifier".


• Chapter three is called "Feeding: Understanding the Baby's Power Supply", and there is much discussion on programming the feeding schedule and dealing with "input" and "output".


• In "Programming Sleep Mode", chapter four, there are diagrams on configuring sleep space and using sleep mode outside the nursery.


• "Tracking Motor and Sensory Applications" is a topic in chapter 6, "Growth and Development".

The best thing about this book is that it is truly practical--both of us have read it cover to cover already, and I actually found its section on breastfeeding particularly helpful: "The baby comes pre-programmed to begin breastfeeding almost immediately. The baby owner, however, requires additional training." The writing is very straight forward. I also enjoyed the footnote at the very beginning of the section: "the breasts of the male parent are not compatible with the food intake system...we recommend you review this information very carefully and transfer the manual to the female parent for review."

The second gift designed especially for the Man of the House came from my Godmother. In a box addressed solely to him, Husband found a tool belt stuffed full of tools--but not the kind to fix a leaky faucet. Instead, he found baby survival tools, all practical and most hysterical:

• Diapers and wipes


• A poncho for unexpected diaper changing showers


• A baggie with a pacifier (to plug the baby up) and ear plugs for him (if the baby plug fails)


• A bag of Swedish Fish (his favorite) and a Red Bull, because Daddy-energy has to be kept up at all times


• Tongs for toxic diaper removal


• A turkey baster, to be used to shine up baby's tushie


• Rubber gloves, face masks and protective eye wear


• A hazardous waste sign


• Baby-occupying rattles and bib


• "Be Prepared"-- a book designed for new Dads

We plan to hang the tool belt on the side of the changing table, where it will be easily accessed and all accouterments put to good use.

The Ups of Pregnancy

While waiting out the final five weeks before our son's arrival, I'm enjoying the "ups" of pregnancy:


The heat is up: And I thought it was hot in April. Our sweaty little city is reaching 100+ degrees in the late afternoon these days, and the humidity is so bad it can make you feel like you've been swimming in a pool full of bathwater the moment you step out the door. And that's for people that are not currently a walking incubator, weighing more than they ever have before...

The weight is up: Several months ago, I couldn't fathom putting on 30 pounds. I'm now at pound 32, which my doctor assures me is not fat, but baby and water retention. Which brings me to....

Swelling up: Fingers and toes are starting to get puffy, so I spend the better part of the evening with my feet propped on a pillow and....

Eating up: Hello, appetite! Where have you been all my life? No new cravings to report except that I want everything to be cold. The list of foods I have put in the freezer has increased exponentially over the past few months. You'd be surprised what tastes good frozen: bananas, oranges (you have to catch them before they freeze all the way) and chocolate milk are topping my list right now (not at the same time, though). Our ice cube trays no longer hold ice--they hold various types of juice which are so yummy frozen.

And, because I know you're wondering, there are some things that don't work well frozen. Like Snickers or Starbursts, which get too hard to chew.

Of course, every time I eat, our little guy gets....


Hiccups: I started feeling these about a month ago and now they happen all the time. They make me laugh, because baby hiccups are the cutest-sounding thing in the world. Which makes me wonder--if a baby hiccups in the womb, and you can't hear him, is he really making noise?

Speaking of the little man. We're not so sure he's still....

Bottom up: At my last check up, the doctor was unsure if he was still head down. It seems like our son is getting ready for his Cirque Du Soleil contortionist audition and has wedged himself in my tummy sideways, with his head aiming at my left hip and his knees and feet pointing towards my right armpit. She said we weren't to worry about his positioning yet, and I think he may have moved since then, since I am feeling his kicks, pokes and nudges in some different places these days. So instead of worrying about what direction he's pointing, I've been busying myself with....


Setting up: Ah, let the nesting begin. Actually, I can't take much of the credit here--Husband and my Mom have been doing most of the heavy lifting while I perch somewhere and be bossy. We still have a little ways to go, but the nursery is now looking less like a free-for-all room full of excess to a room where a baby might actually be comfortable. And even though I have all this help, it doesn't keep me from being....

Uptight: My obsessive nature has been accelerated by being pregnant. Luckily, I have a mother who understands my need to have the Tupperware cabinet organized right this second and a husband who doesn't blink when I organize his side of the closet by shirt type, and then by color. Okay, it's not just his shirts. It's his socks, too. Alright, alright...it's the whole closet. Everyone has been very patient with me, because overall....


The excitement level is up: Every day brings us closer to meeting the newest addition!

Life is Like a Game of Football: Life Lessons From Father to Son

I was very excited when my husband approached me about writing his own blog post. So now, sports fans, a word from the father...

In our house, college football is important. Football season starts in July, when the preview magazines and (more importantly) NCAA football for the PlayStation 3 arrive in stores. Saturdays in the fall are sacred--there is tradition to be followed and songs and chants to be learned. But these things are not the only--or the most important--things I want my son to take away from football. There are life lessons to be gleaned from football, Little Man:

• Showing your colors is a good thing. You’ll find friends you never knew you had, doors will open for you (some will also close) and you won’t have to waste energy hiding your feelings.
• Even the greatest teams don’t score a touchdown on every play, but great teams execute each play. Do your best with each thing you’re given. Small successes build towards great ones. Don’t fret a sack or a loss, just do better the next time.
• Some of the most important players on the team won’t ever get enough credit. Offensive linemen and defensive lineman are key to victory. They can change a game, but they almost never share the limelight with a star Quarterback. That’s okay. People who know the game understand it takes the whole team to make the Quarterback look good.
• Coaches call the plays, but they can’t make them. As your parents, we can tell you all we know, but you’re the one who has to make the final decision. We can provide you with a plan and we can teach you skills, but you’ve got to play the game yourself.
• Fans will always remember your greatest successes and your greatest defeats, but it’s what you do tomorrow that counts. Winning a championship is great, but every team starts the next season with the same record. Having a losing season doesn’t make you a loser. Focus on the possibility of tomorrow, rather than the feelings of yesterday.
• It’s okay to love your family. There is great tragedy in a loss, but it pales in comparison to the great joy of a key win.

We are already gearing up for football season, which is shaping up to be very exciting for several reasons--the most being that our own little running back will be with us for every kick off.

Things I Love Right Now

Things I love right now...

• Stores with parking spots for new and expectant mothers.
• Strawberries and creme frappucino ice cream.
• Clean public restrooms.
• My father's old gigantic t-shirts, which are about the only things that fit me these days.
• Rewatching all my favorite movies.
• Quiet nights spent with my husband, watching West Wing.
• The teeny tiny blue socks with footballs on them that my mom and I found last week.
• Sleeping in. In 6 more weeks, my days of sleeping until I feel like getting up are over...for 18 years. And I can't wait.

Book Worm

I love books. Some people have comfort food, I have comfort books. I love re-reading my old favorites and I love discovering new books. Books are woven into my memory as much as people. I remember my father reading The Berenstein Bears books to me long after I was able to read them to myself, but I liked the cadence of his voice. I remembering devouring The Baby-Sitters Club when I was a "tween" (although the word had not be coined at the time), and how my mom would bring me to the store whenever I finished one so I could purchase the next. The summer I read all of the Anne of Green Gables series I was 14, and--like the character I loved so much--I was freckly and likely to lapse into a day dream. And then there's the Harry Potter series--a set of books which I started reading in high school and finished reading as an engaged woman. My pre-ordered copy of the latest tale would arrive at my doorstep and I would read it straight through--skipping class, parties, calling in sick to work and staying up all night if I had to. When the final book of the series came out, Husband got me several liters of pepsi, my favorite take out and a bag of cookies, then sat up with me for the 13 hours it took me to get through it the first time. That's true love.

But I digress.

I especially love children's books. Whenever I'm in a bookstore or a library, I always visit the kid's section. Long before our little guy was even a notion in our heads, I would spend time in the children's section and occasionally even make a purchase. When I worked as a nanny, my favorite time of the day was always story time, and I never said no to "just one more". I have always believed that it is never too early to start reading to a child. I've been reading Winnie the Pooh to our little guy since before he technically had ears. I can't wait to share my love of reading with my son, and here are some of my all time favorites:

Amos: The Story of an Old Dog and his Couch by Susan Seligson: A story about a red dog who missed his owners so much when they went out that he figured out how to drive his couch ("vrrroooooom!") around town to follow them. Best description of rush hour traffic ever: "It was bumper to bumper to couch to bumper."

But Not the Hippopotomus by Susan Boynton: a beautifully simple and charming book about a little hippo trying to fit in. Your Personal Penguin is also a gem by this author.

The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle by Beatrix Potter: I may have just liked this book because I love to say "Tiggy-Winkle".

The Magic School Bus series by Joanna Cole: Ms. Frizzle was the teacher everyone wanted, and there's something to learn in each book about science.

Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You? by Dr. Suess: My all time favorite Dr. Suess book. I loved the animal noises and the rhymes.

The Velveteen Rabbit by Majery Williams: The classic story about a little boy who loved his stuffed bunny so much, it made him real. I had this on tape when I was little, and I listened to it so many times I could recite it by heart.

I could go on forever--The Chronicles of Narnia, anything by Beverly Cleary or poetry by Shel Silverstein--but I'll stop here. I just can't wait to wrap my son up in a soft blanket, settle into our rocking chair, and tell him my favorite stories. "There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning, he was really splendid. His coat was spotted brown and white, and he had real thread whiskers..."

A Day in The Life...

Hello readers! It's me, Baby Boy, reporting to you today from in the womb, because Mommy is too darn tired to think straight. Since her diminished mental capacity is sort of my fault, I figured I would step in and give you folks a blow by blow account of what it's like to be 7 weeks away from entering the world.

I lead a pretty good life. It's cozy, although it's starting to get a little tight in here...I try and stretch my legs every now and then, but there's these squishy things in my way. If I push too hard on them, Mommy jiggles me around. Not my favorite sensation. Sometimes when she jiggles me, I stop stretching, but other times, I stretch further. Just to show her who is REALLY in charge.

I like it when she rocks back and forth and leans waaay back. That gives me more room. I don't like it when she leans forward. That squishes me. So I kick her. I'm not trying to be mean, but a kid can only take so much.

My favorite part of the day is when Daddy comes home. I know it's him because of the big voice. He talks to me and I get as close as I can to the big voice and kick back at it...once again, I'm not trying to be mean. I just have lots I want to say to him and I don't have a big voice of my own yet.

My other favorite time of the day is 3 AM. I don't have a clock in here, but I can tell it's about that time because Mommy has finally fallen into a deep sleep and she's all relaxed...then I take aim at a squishy part here on the inside and kick and poke it until she wakes up. Sometimes she goes back to sleep, but on good nights she stays awake and plays with me. I poke her with my knee or my foot, and she pokes back. I love it! Plus it makes her laugh, and I like to make her laugh.

Sometimes she turns on the TV and I hear that familiar song: "I'll be there for yoo-oou..". It must be Mommy's favorite show because she watches it ALL the time. She tries to be very quiet and not wake Daddy up. I don't know why she does that, because in a few minutes I'll start kicking really hard so he can feel me, too. Then we'll all be awake and I can hear the big voice and Mommy laughing. As I said before, life is good.

I know you're all wondering...when am I going to make my big arrival? Well, if I told you, it wouldn't be much fun now, would it? Oh, I'll know when I'm ready. And when I'm ready, they'll be nothing stopping me.

So until then, this is Baby Boy, signing off. See you on the other side.

The Grand Scheme of Things...

It is easy to get caught up in the worries of life. There is never enough money. Sick family members. Still missing our kitty. I was definitely feeling the doldrums of the first day back to reality after a holiday weekend when I went in for my bi-weekly checkup yesterday.

But it's hard to feel blue when the little man in your tummy insists on showing off for the doctor, moving around so much that she cracked up. He was so active that his movements interfered with hearing his heart beat on the doppler. Instead of the sweet "thud-thud-thud" of his heart, all we heard was "thwack-rumble-rumble-kick" as he performed his own little personal tap dance.

"Did you eat something really sugary before you came?" She asked me. I grinned at her.

"Nope. This is a typical afternoon in our world."

Our little man measures exactly where he should and weighs about 4 pounds. Doctor says if he comes on his due date, we'll be looking at an eight pound baby with personality.

"I wish all my patients pregnancies were going as well as yours," she commented as we watched my stomach bounce around.

So for the rest of the afternoon, I still worried about money. And family. And I still missed our cat. But in the grand scheme of things, I have a healthy little man growing inside me--who responds to his dad's voice and plays poking games with him, whose movements I wait for in the morning when I wake up and smile when I feel, and who is already making everyone around him a little happier. And that is what is most important.

Showered with Love

Husband and I were very lucky--we were given two baby showers for our little guy. The first, thrown by the people my husband works with, was earlier this month, and our family shower happened over the holiday weekend.

My husband has a theater management position in the city where we live. Despite the grown-up content of most of the shows the theater puts on, it is a very family friendly atmosphere and a lot of his co-workers have little ones. During the summer months the porch outside the theater building is often full of friends before, during and after the shows, chatting and laughing. But on a Saturday afternoon several weeks ago, the porch was adorned with Pooh Bear decorations and streamers, and the usual adult beverages were replaced with root beer floats and super yummy cake as our good friends gathered to celebrate our baby to be.

Our theater family has been so excited about our little one since we announced the good news back at the Christmas party. And they were so good to us--everyone pitched in and we came home from our shower with our crib and bedding, not to mention adorable onesies and outfits, diapers, and even a pair of itty-bitty baby sunglasses. Our little man already has an abundance of "aunts" and "uncles" who are itching to meet him. Aren't we lucky?

We chose to have our family baby shower over the Memorial Day weekend in the town I grew up in. We were able to plan it so Godmother Doctor was home on a vacation (she only gets two opportunities to come home a year during her residency), and it just happened to fall on my Dad's birthday--which made it all the more special. All of our family came and a good time was had by all at the sports themed tail-gate party. Some highlights included:

• The super yummy football cake
• Oooh-ing and Ahh-ing over the abundance of unbearably cute clothes and toys
• Watching Godfather Engineer assemble the travel system we received from my husband's parents--while all the women in the house "supervised" and offered their opinions
• The "game ball"--a football we had everyone sign for the baby instead of a guest book
• The "Auntie said I could" onesie my husband's sister gave us
• The fantastic "Daddy survival tool belt" Husband recieved from my Godmother--it's so good it's going to get it's own post, so stay tuned
• The amazing amount of diapers we were given
• The adorable diaper cake made by one of my childhood friends--she did it in the colors of Husband's Alma Mater and put cans of Pepsi (my FAVORITE drink) down the middle
• Playing with the children of another childhood friend--she has a three year old little girl and a three month old son. We're already planning play dates for our boys!
• Receiving the Raggedy Andy doll from Husband's childhood, along with his baby blanket and the outfit he came home from the hospital in
• Watching everyone--family, old friends and new friends--hang out with each other. It was really very emotional for this pregnant lady to see all the people in the world who already love our little guy so much, and were so generous.

I have spent the remainder of the holiday weekend in a blissful state, surrounded by baby clothes and supplies as I start to gear up for some heavy duty nesting over the next eight weeks. Husband had a rare full day off, so while he relaxed and recharged his batteries, I relaxed by sorting onesies and little sleepers and jumpers by size and putting them on teeny tiny hangers. For the record, I love teeny tiny hangers.

So thank you to everyone who came to our showers, and to everyone who has helped us prepare for the big arrival of our little guy. We feel very loved, and we can't wait for our son to get to know each and every one of you.

The Pregnancy Puzzle Challenge--Phase 1

With eight weeks to go, I am starting to sloooow down. I've developed the classic pregnancy waddle, and driving is starting to become difficult--sitting straight up or leaning forward for an extended period of time makes baby cranky, and he kicks in protest until I assume his favorite reclining position. Sleeping for more than three hours in a row is impossible, so naps during the day are essential. And while I know I have miles (and pounds) to go before the big day, the time has come to start consolidating trips and staying close to home.

Soon I'll have the nursery to focus on, and all the nitty-gritty details that come with the final countdown to baby to keep me busy. But even so, the days are long--so I've decided to challenge myself in a way that I never have before.

A puzzle.

I am pretty abysmal at puzzles. I usually don't have the patience or the spatial relation to spend a lot of time putting puzzles together. But I got one for Christmas this year, and it is now spread out on the dining room table as a way to keep my mind and my hands busy. I don't know how long it will take me to get the 1000 pieces to fit together, but I figure 8 weeks is a pretty generous deadline.

A doctor, a teacher, and an engineer walk into a bar...

I have been very lucky in my life to have wonderful godparents--a godmother, in particular, who has always been a strong presence and has been involved in all the major things in my world. In fact, our little guy's due date is on her birthday. Wouldn't that be something?

When it came to choosing godparents for our son, we didn't have to think very hard about it. There are three particular people in our life who are not family--but might as well be--who we know will love our son as if he were their own. When we asked each of these people to be a godparent, they all answered with a resounding "yes"--without a moment of hesitation.

They are three people who are very different from each other as well as from my husband and I. They will round out our little man's world in ways that Husband and I can't. They are, for the purposes of this blog: Engineer Godfather, Teacher Godmother, and Doctor Godmother. I know, I know...it sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.

Husband and Engineer Godfather have been best friends since grade school. In high school, Engineer Godfather met Teacher Godmother...and were married once they were out of college. I love a good romance, don't you?

Engineer Godfather is a thinker and planner, while my husband is more of a risk taker. They balance each other out nicely...we have sat through many a dinner while my husband and his best bud tear situations apart, and while they have differing ways of finding an answer, they always end up with a solution together. Teacher Godmother is a kind, positive person--she always has a smile and a warm hug ready for you. Engineer Godfather and Teacher Godmother are a great pair--they are far more adventurous then Husband and I are. They have travelled all over the world, while Husband and I tend to travel all over...Disney World. They are probably the only way our son will be exposed to sea food, as we stay away from all fish and ocean cuisine.

Godfather Engineer and Godmother Teacher will be able to tell our son all sorts of stories about his father...about the time the three of them lived in New Orleans together and all the shenanigans Husband and Godfather Engineer got into when they were boys. I won't go into detail (I don't know if the statute of limitations has run out on some of the things they got away with), but I know if our son is anywhere near as smart (and stealthy) as his dad, it's going to take both Husband and Godfather Engineer to stay one step ahead of him.

Godmother Doctor and I met our freshman year in college and were roommates until we graduated. We have weathered many storms together. My son will learn dedication and hard work from his Godmother Doctor. When I met her for the first time nearly 10 years ago, she announced to me that she was pre-med and she was going to be a surgeon. She is now in the second year of her surgical residency at a very prominent hospital. The road there has not been easy--from listening to her recite her organic chemistry notes in her sleep to watching her get no sleep during her first year as an intern--but she's a tough cookie and she has never swayed from her goal. She is always unapologetically herself, and always has been, and I think that's fantastic. She has stoody by my side through bad relationships, bad haircuts, my wedding, my father's illness and many other things. I have no doubt she'd move heaven and earth for my son if he needed it.

She'll be able to tell my son stories about his mother back in the day, too. Our weekly ritual of grilled cheese and bad girly TV shows--or the time we snuck a kitten into her dorm room in a duffle bag. Alas, Godmother Doctor and I were not as stealthy as Husband and his friend, but we did manage to get away with a little.

So while our mix of godparents may seem like a bad joke, in reality they are a trio that will enhance our son's life. And in our eyes, that makes them family.

One Day You're In, The Next, You're Out

Truer words have never been spoken. Of course, when the fantastic Heidi Klum spoke them, she was talking about the contestants on Project Runway. I am talking about my belly button.

I have developed a fascination with my own belly button that is usually saved for the three and under crowd. My husband thinks I'm crazy because I bring it up all the time. But of all the changes going on with my body right now, my belly button is one of the strangest.

I've always had sort of a funny looking belly button. It looks like it belongs on a cabbage patch doll, circa late 1980's. I have been waiting for it to "pop", as everyone has told me it would, but so far, all it has done is change shape depending on where the little guy is hanging out. Some days, it looks like it always has. Other days it's totally flat, occasionally it's shaped like a little mountain. Today, the top half is poking out, and the bottom is sucked in.

What is he doing in there?

Cats and Babies, volume 5

Not all chapters in a story are happy. There is tragedy and loss, even in the best of fairy tales. My husband and I are dealing with just such a chapter right now, one of the toughest times we have been through together.

Our cherished Fat Kitty is no longer with us. Earlier this week, we had to make the nearly impossible decision to have him put to sleep. Not only did we lose a pet, but a companion. Fat Kitty and my husband had been two peas in a pod for over ten years, and kitty has been my company during Husband's late work nights for five years. My husband and I have spent the majority of this week stuck together, wandering through a haze of, "what can life possibly be like without him?"

As I have said before, I am not even attempting to compare the issues of raising a child to those of having a pet. They are two entirely different things. There are different types of love you feel for a person and a pet. However, both types of love can be equally strong in their own ways. And now we have a fat cat sized hole in our hearts.

You might be wondering why I chose to write about the loss of our cat on a blog dedicated to our baby boy. There are a few reasons. He has been a reoccurring guest on this blog, after all. He has taught us patience and compromise and how NOT to enable, as well as when to give in. All of these lessons will make us better parents. The biggest reason, though, is because he helped us learn what is probably the hardest lesson: you have to do right for those you love, even when it causes you unbearable pain. There is no room for selfishness.

Our Fat Kitty became so sick so quickly that I am still trying to wrap my head around it. The vet said we could prolong his life by maybe a few weeks and started talking about daily fluid IVs and a 24 hour catheter for food. Husband and I couldn't imagine our vibrant, headstrong cat being happy with that at all, especially because it would require long days at the vet and many car trips--his two least favorite things in the world. Husband and I would have done absolutely anything in the world to keep our kitty with us--except cause him pain. So we did what was best for him, even though it was the worst possible thing for us.

Obviously, I hope a worry this serious never crosses our path when it comes to our child. But there will be hard decisions--times when we make our little guy unhappy, and he won't understand our decisions. We will do our best to explain our reasoning to him. There will be times when our decisions and choices are far harder to make and implement for us than for our son to swallow.

So thank you, Fat Kitty, for teaching us this lesson and all the other ones over the years. Thank you for your companionship, for greeting us at the door every time we came home, for sleeping on my pillow until Husband came home from work. Thank you for forgiving me when I stepped on your tail and for the time I accidentally left you out on the porch all night (although in my defense, we had just met and I barely knew you). Thank you for making me laugh when you stalked my toes, for snoozing on the bathmat while I took a bath, and for laying on my hair while I tried to do yoga on the living room floor. You kept life interesting. Thank you for making Husband and I better people, and (soon) better parents. You will be missed--especially your presence at our front door when we bring home our little man home for the first time. But even though Fat Kitty won't physically be there, I'm pretty sure he'll always be around--as our son's very own personal Guardian Fat Kitty, halo and all.

Week 31: Downward facing...baby!

We had another good news check up today with the doctor. In the middle of my 31st week, we're closer than ever to getting to meet our little guy.

Right now, he's head down (yay!) and in the position he needs to be in for the big day. He could still move, but chances are he won't. That confirmed that the rapid little "thump-thump-thumps" I feel in the upper half of my tummy are indeed his little feet. The doc gave my stomach a good once over and estimates that he's right at three pounds, maybe a few ounces over, which is awesome. As always, the high point was getting to hear his heartbeat--and between the cold gel used with the doppler and the manhandling she did, the doctor got a pretty good kick aimed at her hands from our little Running Back--in fact, he kicked so hard that my husband could see my stomach move from across the room.

Apparently babies in utero sleep 90% of the time...so that means that our little man either doesn't sleep, or is dreaming that he's on America's Best Dance Crew, because I feel him all the time. I love it. He's a little mover and shaker, and I regularly see my stomach jerk as he dances around. This is especially fun when I'm in the bathtub, because it causes little ripples in the water.

We've been getting our apartment ready for his big arrival--we moved around some furniture in the main part of the house to make it more "family friendly", and have finally started to gain control over the chaos that was taking over the room that will be his nursery. Soon we'll get the paint up in his room, and the real nesting can begin.

This Pregnant Woman is Thankful For...

It's the little things in life that make life sweet. This pregnant lady is thankful for...

...my husband, for not losing his mind when I do things like wake him up four times a night going to the bathroom.
...organic peanut butter and extra sharp white cheddar cheese. YUM.
...the nice people at my Kroger who recognize me and keep up with my pregnancy.
...the little man in the tummy. It's very hard to be upset or cranky for too long while he break dances.
...people who give thoughtful comments as opposed to pushy advice.
...my family, who goes out of their way to help a tired pregnant gal get her world ready for a baby.
...frozen cranberry juice ice cubes.
...happy meals. And the toys that come in them.
...the incredibly clean public bathroom at Lowes.
...the citronella candle that keeps the bugs away.
...my car, which despite it's age and rickety appearance, still gets me where I need to go.
...our cozy bed.

Here's to the little things in life. Baby boy, I hope you learn to appreciate the wind in your hair, a lady bug on the windowsill, and clean public bathrooms.

Pregnancy Fat Day: A Weighty Issue

Every woman has fat days. A day when nothing fits, nothing is comfortable, and nothing looks good. Fat days are usually accompanied by hair that will not lay correctly and make up that looked fine in the bathroom mirror but then looks alarming when viewed in natural light. The result of a fat day is usually sweat pants, a old ratty T-shirt, no make up at all and hair in a pony tail. Add half a pint of Ben & Jerry's--which sounds unhelpful, but it's not--and the problem is usually solved.

Add being in the last ten weeks of your pregnancy to that mix, and everything changes. Sweatpants no longer fit (and even if they did it's far too hot out to think about pants) and I outgrew most of my T-shirts several months ago. Some of the husband's t-shirts still fit me, but he is a fairly slim fellow himself, so most of his shirts don't offer much respite. So what is a pregnant lady to do?

The answer is the pregnancy muumuu. The pregnancy muumuu is the dress a pregnant woman buys early in her pregnancy, usually jersey material, that looks cute on the hanger and even looks cute the first few times it's worn. Then, for some inexplicable reason, suddenly the dress makes you look four times bigger than you actually are. It drapes unflatteringly around your tummy and rear end, accentuates your hips, and falls in all the wrong places.

It is the most comfortable thing EVER.

I have just such a dress. It is bright green, has big pockets, and hugs me in all the incorrect places. But when I wake up on days like today, feeling every ounce of the 22 pounds I have put on, stomach stretching as our little guy pokes me with his elbows and knees and head, it is the comfort of this dress I turn to.

And on this particular fat day, I was also feeling a little cooped up, so I decided to get some exercise--by walking around a nice, air conditioned mall. I chose one of the higher end, yuppie malls in our area. I like to people watch as much as I like to window shop. Today, however, every person I came across seemed to have stepped out of the pages of a magazine. They were all pulled together, hair perfectly done, immaculate clothes--and all a size 2, tops. Even the mommies who pushed the strollers around the stores seemed impeccable. It was like I found an alternate universe of skinny, beautiful people in my town to surround me while I walked around looking like a chubby leprechaun with messy hair. I wanted to crawl under a bench and hide.

Instead, I went into Baby Gap. I lost myself among the racks of soft blue onesies and teeny tiny blue jean jackets. I looked at itty-bitty red sneakers that I could only fit two of my fingers in. I smiled at the baby boy in the stoller who was grinning at me, while his mother compared minuscule t-shirts that said things like "stud" and "lady's man". I felt my own little guy dance and didn't feel quite so fat anymore.

So what if I can't fit into clothes from my favorite stores anymore? So what if even some of my maternity clothes feel uncomfortably tight? My doctor says my weight is right on track and the gain is temporary, anyway. And when the end result is someone who will fit into little jean jackets and bitty red sneakers, who am I to feel bad about myself? Thanks, little man, for giving me the reality check I needed.

The New Normal

I know our life will change drastically when baby makes three, but I didn't know how much life would change before our little guy arrived. Here are some of the little ways life is different 10 weeks before baby's expected arrival date:

• When I say, "do you want to know about this week?" to my husband, he knows I don't mean what my plans are for the week. He knows I am about to read out loud to him about baby's development for that particular week.
• I am so used to our little man's acrobatics, kerthunks and kicks that I wake up startled when I don't feel him, as opposed to being woken up by his movements. His movements are so big that husband feels them even when he's not trying, and gets distracted when he can't feel them.
• There are already baby supplies everywhere. We've had one of our baby showers already (more about that soon!) but the nursery is still full of grown up stuff we still have to sort through, so there is a boxed crib leaning up against the wall in our living room, and kits with teeny tiny fingernail clippers and hair brushes piled in the guest bathroom that need to be put away. I consider this practice for when we are ankle deep in baby toys and excersaucers.
• We are getting serious about home improvement. Although there is only so much one can do in an apartment, we have a list of things that we want to get done before the baby comes. Most of these things would have been overlooked if it were going to be the two of us, but suddenly replacing vents and finding the perfect paint color is extremely important.
• My list-making has reached epic proportions. I have always been a little OCD, but now I have a list for everything: the ongoing list on my blackberry for groceries, a list of things to pack for the hospital, food to make and freeze for the weeks following baby's arrival. Pregnancy is sooo good for my anal-retentive tendencies.
• I have spent more time researching stroller/car seat travel systems than I did studying for my SATs. After receiving a diploma from a fairly prestigious university, I think choosing the correct travel system is far more important.
• I spend a lot of time in bed and on the couch, but not a lot of time sleeping. Sleeping is not the easiest thing to do anymore, and sometimes it's boring waiting the night out. I assume I'll sleep even less when the baby arrives, but at least I'll have a baby to play with during those sleepless nights.

The moral of the story? A baby changes everything. Long before it arrives.