All the Things

Nugget,

I know your daddy's been working on a follow up to his last post, but he's taking a long time, so I figured I'd interject with some slightly sappier, definitely not-as-funny but true thoughts. You have gotten seriously active in the past month or so, and its exciting and makes me giggle and sometimes a little startling. It's a reminder that there are all these things we still have to do and an increasingly short amount of time in which to do them. 

Birthing class: your daddy and I will sit all day in a class that talks about what to expect the day we finally get to meet you. I'm curious to see how long it takes until daddy gets that glazed look over his face because he hasn't quite embraced the reality of you. I mean, he is very excited and thrilled about your arrival, but I just don't think it's as real to him because he doesn't get to feel your constant presence like I do. I think he's actually a little jealous about that. I would be, anyway.

Stuff: Oh. My. God. All the stuff. Crib and stroller and things for you to sit in, and bounce in, and gates so when you're mobile, you don't fall down stairs and soft things for you to wear and to sleep on, and things to carry you in and wear you with, and cute things for you to be surrounded by when lying, sitting, sleeping, and things to stimulate you and fascinate you, and keep you from being upset during tummy time, and things that make feeding you easier, and to monitor you, so you're safe, and all the things to encourage you to be thinking, empathetic, healthy and strong. And some of that stuff will be gifted by sweet friends and family who will be generous and lovely, but some won't, and your daddy gets all crazy about the prices of things (that is definitely his job because it's not mine) even if it's something I think is super necessary and he doesn't get it. It's a LOT of stuff.

Your room: This is fun, and while I have a lot of it planned, I know that some of it will come together organically. I painted it the perfect color I had in my head (after daddy painted it a color I thought was the one in my head but it was actually a gross baby blue color once it was on the walls and I hated it). This will also require some stuff. Like curtains - specifically black out shades, because I want you to be able to sleep. I want us all to be able to sleep. And your closet is currently filled with a great many things that don't belong in there, like christmas stuff and an air mattress and random daddy memorabilia, and those horrible wire shelves that need to be replaced with actual useful shelves and rods on which to hang all your adorable soft things.

Also, there are currently men dismantling our porch so it can be rebuilt. A tree fell on it a little more than a month ago in a storm, and it's finally getting fixed. It should only take a couple of weeks (or so I'm told), so I'm really hoping that's true, and the threshold we carry you over in 3 months is solid and beautiful and not at all filled with holes or remnants of splintered wood.

There is more, but I'm already a little overwhelmed. Frankly, I know that even if we check off all the things that need to get done before your arrival, we still won't be ready. How could we be ready for a whole new universe? It's fine, we'll learn and work it out together, sweet boy. You'll have us and we'll have you, and really, that's enough.

People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm...and In Vitro Fertilization

Hey Nugget,

Strap in for a long one.

Lots and lots of things have to go right for you to come out ready to drop Blue Steel on everyone. It's a journey and we had a long, expensive one to get where we are today. Nobody knows that more than your mama. She's had to bear the brunt of the duties, carrying you around in her belly, getting wands shoved in what you'd typically prefer to be wand-free zones, countless needle sticks, and the fear that goes along with wondering if all the efforts are ever going to pay off. Or, worse, going through everything and having them not pay off, which has happened a couple times now.

We waited until we were married to try having you. Lots of people wait until they're married to have kids because that's what their religion tells them to do. We didn't have that problem because the Flying Spaghetti Monster just wants you to be a decent human being. Well, that and to eat a lot of pasta. No, ours was more of an Uncle Sam issue. Having a baby is expensive business and I wasn't about to pay out of pocket for $200 Advil or get surprised with an extra $2,000 because the anesthesiologist decided to bring a resident along without asking. We wanted to be insured to help with costs and access to quality health care, ultimately ensuring you'd come out poppin' and lockin' with the best of them. Which is also why I play Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo for you every night once your mama falls asleep. Sometimes I mix in classic clips of Rerun too.






But back to how you came to be...

We got married almost five years ago. We kicked off our efforts during the honeymoon. I won't go into details but maybe this American Medical Association graphic will help explain it.


I know that's a very scientific explanation but some day you'll understand.

So during that first month we got pregnant! It was very exciting. Especially since we waited so long to meet each other and get ourselves into position to start trying. There's this pesky little problem where it becomes harder to have children as you get older. We weren't getting any younger, buddy. It was go time.

As the first trimester comes to a close you can begin telling family and friends with more confidence because the statistics will tell you that your risk for miscarriage drops considerably. Well, during the 11th week we had some concerns that something wasn't right. With a couple trips booked for the coming weeks we decided it was best to lay our concerns to rest with a visit to the doctor. In heartbreaking fashion, because we felt like we were only a week away from locking in that baby, we found out the baby stopped growing around 6 weeks. We just didn't see the symptoms until week 11.

There's nothing that can prepare you for that kind of news. It's a special kind of devastation.

In the coming days, weeks, and months, we learned that maybe there were fibroids causing the problem. That would suck to find out, but in a way it could have given us something to hold on to as a reason for the miscarry. Meaning, next time we'd be fine because we could remove them. Ultimately they proved to be harmless and we left with no reason for our bad pregnancy luck.

After the proper recovery time we were ready to give it another go. In fact, with how quickly we got pregnant the first time we thought for sure it'd be easy.

Then I was laid off work.

A year later I was still looking and we'd cashed out everything we had to stay afloat. Family and friends came to the rescue at necessary times and we just couldn't even think about trying to get pregnant without insurance or income.

Enter your dad's new job and a brand spanking new insurance plan some 16 months after the layoff and 20 months since the miscarry. It was time to start mashing privates with a purpose (OB/GYN term) again. We were confident it would happen quickly.

Over the next 8 months we carefully watched the calendar, trying our best to get our grind on at all the appropriate times. Maximizing our chances for conception was the name of the game and boy did we play alllll the positions. Ughhhhhh.

Sorry, Nugget. Got a little off track there. Where was I?

Oh yeah...

Here are some things that we tried:

• Hoisting legs up in the air. As if gravity was our only problem. GET. DOWN. THERE. YOU. STUPID. SPERMS!
• Pillow under the butt. Another gravity-based adjustment to our typical efforts that did nothing more than look dumb.
• Special Positions. You know, because of the angle of the dangle (common anatomy phrase).
• Lik-m-Stiks. Supposedly you can lick a small lipstick-like tube and then hold it up to your eye, like a jeweler inspecting a diamond, revealing a certain type of go-time crystallization that means start Marvin Gaye on repeat and get to work.
• iPhone apps. Those are basically just calculators for math you can do in your head.
• Yelling at the belly. This was my idea. "You WILL become a baby! I WON'T SAY IT AGAIN MEOW YOU BECOME A GODDAMN BABY!" 
• Acupuncture. In hindsight we should have gone to a professional because I only had small nails available and zero idea where they were supposed to go. 
• Post-Coital Jazzercise. Get up and groove that sperm into the egg! Ultimately we didn't give this one as much of a chance because you want to perform Jazzercise in a leotard, arm bands, and whatnot, but typically you want to perform sex without all those things. Unless you're Jazzercise role-playing, which got old for us a year into our relationship. Too much back and forth into and out of leotards to sustain this method properly.
• Buttsex. They say the closest distance between two points is a straight line and I thought maybe it would provide a clearer shot at our objective. Turns out doctors claim this is impossible. Jenny McCarthy and I disagree, but we moved on to other methods nonetheless.
• Praying. We didn't do this personally but mama's mama made sure to pray for us. I'm sure many others did too. This is a delicate subject because it clearly does not work but many people believe in it. If praying worked we'd all be rich, married to models, living forever, and nobody but those dirty Swedes would ever have a rough go in life ever again.

After none of this worked for eight months we magically found ourselves pregnant again! Buttsex? COULD BE! But we were happy regardless of the method that somehow worked.

Until six weeks later we were back in the ER and pretty much knew we had a problem again. It was confirmed with a blood test that saw hormone levels were going the wrong direction and we again found ourselves on the receiving end of life's cruel backhand.

It was after this attempt that we brought in the big guns. No, not that big gun. I'd been bringing that from the get go. I'm referring to the fertility experts in our area. We sought out the biggest and baddest fertility doctor in our town and I punched him in the face to exert my dominance and show I wasn't a punk. Didn't realize this wasn't applicable outside of a prison and had to apologize profusely before he offered to take us in for a consult.

But that's all for another post. As always, a bit of advice before I go:

Don't go chasing waterfalls. Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you're used to.

~ Your dad

Funny Eggplant

You're now 24 weeks and the size of an eggplant! That's pretty big, so it feels ok that my belly is so big and round. Eh, who am I kidding? I love my bump. It's the most fascinating thing I've ever experienced. I feel like after you're born, I may actually miss this time, when you're nestled in there. Perhaps I will be too busy with you to consider these things.

We're in Asheville, and your daddy has some work stuff to do for another hour, but then we get to just hang out and walk around with Kaya and eat yummy food. Food is super important in our family. You'll learn pretty quickly that a lot of our plans revolve around where the best place to eat will be. Get ready, baby taste buds (Which are developing right now, according to my many pregnancy apps)! You will not be subsisting on nuggets or hot dogs. Anyway...Asheville.

 This is where daddy asked me to marry him and we were planning your big exciting life from the very start. In fact, his ability to be awesome with kids and the way we agree on how to do all sorts of parental things was a big factor in loving him so much. You'll find out soon enough, but your dad is kind of amazing. I guarantee he will make you laugh more than anyone else you'll meet for at least a few years. Once your social circle grows, maybe you'll meet someone else hilarious who won't also have to sometimes tell you to stop shoving things in your mouth/ears/eyeballs, so you'll appreciate them more. Until then, he will be your go-to comedy source. Which is fair, because I'm pretty sure you will remain our main source of comedy for many years to come. Keep growing, sweet boy!

~mama

Fancy Foot Work

The past week has been really exciting. We were at the beach with your aunt and cousins and you really started moving! I think you love the ocean like mommy does, you were super active when we were sitting and listening to the surf crashing on the sand. You've actually been moving around for quite a while now, but you're hanging out in a spot that's been making it a little more difficult to feel...until now. Now, it's game on. I'm loving all the bumps and kicks. You've also had the hiccups a couple times, which just makes me giggle.

All of this ninja training you've been doing in there is pretty amazing, and I know as you get bigger and stronger, it's going to get more intense. Just try to keep the rib kicking to a minimum, ok, nugget? I'm sure daddy will be thrilled if you get his mad soccer skills, but we can work on that when you're on the outside. There are no soccer goals to be had in there. I'll give you some goals to work for, though. Be big (but under 10 lbs. please), be strong, be healthy. Be a good eater and sleeper. Be the very best things your daddy and I can pass on to you. Be compassionate and kind. No matter who you wind up being, you already are the baby I've been waiting for my whole life, and you will be loved. Unconditionally.

~mama