Imminent Arrival

We are officially in single digit countdown days to your arrival. It's hard to imagine that before we know it, you will be snuggling with us out here in the real world, and yet it's already impossible to imagine a world before you. Our lives have been a steady stream of baby preparations, and I think your daddy is nesting even more than I am. He is currently building you a dresser/changing table (the chances of this project being done before you're born are ummm a little on the lowish side) and he has been helping to make your little world so special. Your closet. Seriously, it's better than mine.

He has agreed to, and participated in all of the shopping required for your needs and my wants. This is a big deal. You will learn when you are a little older that mama is the one to go to when you want to splurge on something. I am quite proud that I found your rocking/bouncy seat for a deal though! This is what I will use to counteract his arguments that you don't need another pair of shoes you can't even walk in (have you seen baby shoes? how do you NOT need more baby shoes?) or another decorative and clever thing to hang in your nursery. 

My plan was to have my hospital bag packed by the end of the weekend, but it's not quite ready. It's much more difficult than packing for a weekend away. How can I really know what I'll need when I'm packing for a new life? What if you are too chunky to fit in those sweet little newborn onesies? I realize I won't look and feel too much different than my current state of enormously pregnant right after you're born (which is totally unfair, btw), but will I have more than 2 garments that actually cover this belly? Luckily, we live very near the hospital, and daddy is sweet enough to come back to the house and get anything we need, so that's likely adding to my procrastination.

Still to do:

• Car seat installation (using actual directions, unlike your daddy's first attempt to "wing it", resulting in a hot mess
• gallery wall installation in your nursery
• light hung in nursery*
• Getting you into this world (preferably without being induced because mama no likey all that nonsense. we've had enough help getting you in there, it's your turn to pull your weight, sweet boy)!

This may be the final pre-birth post from me here. I am just beyond anxious excited overjoyed to meet you face to face. We have had such a great time these past 9+ months, I've been so fortunate to feel so well throughout, bonding with you through every kick and hiccup (so many hiccups!). I am ready to share you with the world, and especially with daddy. You've already made us the most proud parents ever.

Love,

Mama

*Once those final touches are in, including your amazing rug, I will post pictures here.

Hearing

Hey Nugget,

All of the baby development books claim that you can hear while you're in there. Not in your first few months, of course. You were still pretty much a blob back then. But now you're basically a fully formed baby. We couldn't be happier with how things have gone during your time in the womb, by the way. Don't think we haven't noticed your two glorious nostrils. Well done, buddy.

But as far as hearing goes, the science says you can hear your mama's voice, maybe mine too. With that in mind I feel like there's something I should let you know about just in case you heard more than we think today.

The world isn't ending just as you're set to make your debut, though it may have sounded that way. You see, we have something called a President. The President leads our country and helps to shape how we experience it. They're always male because of our bigger brains. It's science. Also they've almost always been white, but that's for another conversation.

Anyway, we get two candidates with differing opinions on how to be a good President and then we vote on who we like. This time around there was one candidate who said a lot of nasty things. Nasty things about women, about people of color, about veterans. Really he said nasty things about almost every type of person. He didn't have any experience for this very important job and every time you thought he couldn't get any worse he somehow managed to get worse.

Well, he ended up winning the election and now he gets to be President. Your mama and I are extremely disappointed and considerably worried about whether or not he will run our country the way he ran his campaign. I think I speak for both of us when I say that no matter what happens, and hopefully he ends up doing a serviceable job, we'll work our butts off to make sure that you have a good life regardless.

Here are a partial list of things we will do:

We'll smush on your face and tell you we love you.
We'll give you smooches and make sure you know that we have your back.
We'll pick you up when you fall down.
We'll teach you to be kind to and respectful of others.
We'll teach you that it's called a raspberry and not a zerbert.
We'll give you raspberries.
We'll (I'll) blame farts on you.
We'll fake you out with airplane noises and make you eat gross but healthy food.
We'll teach you math using finger counting like in Stand and Deliver.


We'll trick you with very obvious magic until you get old enough to know better.
We'll try our best to make you love what we love.
We'll (I'll) make you love 90's rap.
We'll shave any Bieber hair you try to grow.
We'll enforce a very strict No Douchebag policy.
We'll (I'll) teach you the keys to UBM (Unexpected Boner Management)
We'll screw some things up but apologize profusely with hugs and kisses.

You can count on us, buddy. So don't listen to the hate. We got this.

Now before I go, a quick word of advice:

If opportunity doesn't knock, build a door. Then close that door so a window will open. Climb out the window unless it's on a second or third floor. Once outside, look for opportunity. Realize it isn't there in Trump's America because you're 1/16th Comanche Indian. Sneak back in and never speak of this again.

~ Your Dad

(Full disclosure: We have no Comanche blood in our lines and I really am trying to stay optimistic about Trump despite the jokes)

Real Getting

Shit is getting real, nugget. How do I know? Laundry.

We're less a month away from your due date but you seem intent on growing faster than planned. I can tell you're impatient and that's normal. You inherited that trait from both of us. Nobody likes to wait but I'd just ask that you hold on long enough to let me finish my work travel and not leave your mama freaking out because I'm at a VA Hospital in Biloxi when she goes into labor. Can I get your word on that, buddy?

Thanks.

Mama couldn't work with the metal shelves in your closet so I was tasked with making some new ones out of wood and brawn. I think you'll like them and I'm quite proud of the job I did. Building is not my chosen profession but as it turns out I can turn an above average wrench. I've built our dining room table, the entertainment center/dog crate, a small set of drawers for my office, and soon I'll have a dresser built for your room. I'm just as surprised as anyone else at how good it all came out and the side effects of building things (increased testosterone production, testicle fortitude, arm hair growth, and hands callused enough to open beers without even really trying) have been well received. 

We've only got a few more big things to get and then we'll be ready to usher you into this world and do our best to not let you grow up to be a douchebag.

I like our chances.

Well, as is my life these days I need to go catch a flight. But before I do, a bit of advice...

The future depends on what we do in the present. Remember that when you're hitting puberty and thinking we have no idea why you go through so many tube socks.

~ Your Dad

Growing a good man

Hey, sweet nugget! It's been a productive few weeks, and you are so big! You now have a stroller (thanks, Nana!), a painted nursery and a crib, but we have a lot to do before your grand entrance into the world. Your daddy and I are doing our best to prepare, but I'm not sure we ever will be ready. Your daddy is fixing your closet up so we can get all your adorable stuff organized (down with wire shelving!), and he is even building you a dresser. We spent all day in a class to learn what to expect during your delivery. We went through all the stages of labor, the myriad of things out of our control, and what we can do to cope with the whole birthing process. The only sure thing I came away with is that I'm more excited than ever to meet you.

I also had pictures taken this week, so I never forget how special having you in my (very big) belly is. One day, I'll show you those pictures and explain that you were once that tiny little baby inside me, just 6 weeks from being born. One of the things I look the most forward to is explaining things about the world to you. I certainly don't know everything, and I won't always be right, but if I can instill in you some basic goodness and empathy, I'll have done my job.

Right now, we are weeks away from a presidential election that has been really controversial. I've been involved in some heated discussions about the candidates and the basic ideas of right vs wrong. People have been offended, have taken a stand for things I can't really comprehend, and have dismissed horrible behavior just to hold their position. I'm probably more involved than I usually would be, because the thought of you coming into this world while our country is being represented by someone who has expressed, almost exclusively, ideas of divisiveness and hatred is too upsetting. I want more for you. It's so important to me that you learn to stand for what is right, even if inconvenient. I'm determined to make sure you know that being a good man means you help to empower and support others. You will meet people in this world who think it's ok to gain advantages by making others feel smaller. My hope for you is that you will be better and do better than that. You will realize for yourself when you are older, that the most enjoyable people to be around are those who lift others up and who bring their own unique flavor of joy that they spread. Raising someone who is capable of being that kind of human is very important to me. It's a big responsibility and I don't take it lightly. You are my most important job in the world. I will make mistakes along the way, but I will always love you and do my very best.

Love, Mama

People's Instinctive Travels Part 3: The Never Ending Story

Hey Nugget,

Just your dad here, picking up where I left off on the subject of how you came to be. It's apparently a very long, multi-post story. But what are you going to do about it? You're stuck in a womb with nowhere to go and nothing to do besides grow (nostrils!) and read this blog.

(On a quick side note, it was exciting to see you on the 3D ultrasound a few days ago. While you were tired and adamant about blocking our view, we were able to confirm that you're a boy, that you take after your old man, and that, thankfully, you have exactly two nostrils. We're very proud of you already, Nugget. Nicely done.)

If you recall part 1 and part 2 you'll know that we're at the point of medical intervention by the Queen City's finest womb whisperer. While we weren't desperate, it was becoming clear we needed help.

OK, we were getting a little desperate.

IVF is expensive and we were getting old. More often than not, people don't have insurance that covers fertility treatments. We were very lucky to have a plan that did cover an amount of fertility treatments that roughly equated to one round of IVF. But that doesn't cover everything.

First you have to meet your deductible. For both of you. That alone could be close to a thousand dollars. Next you have to start getting tested, and hey guess what?! Some tests aren't billable.

So now you've paid for your deductible AND for some additional tests that make sure, to use boner pill commercials as an example, both the hanging tire swing and the football to throw through it are in good working order.

Even after 40 years on this earth, both of us tested well within the sweet spot for how well an outy and an inny should work during prime babymaking years. Don't worry, you'll likely inherit those impressive genes along with some of the other truly fantastic attributes your mama and I have. That's how it works. We take a little of me and a little of your mama, mix in a little magic dust from whichever god the parents worship, (in your case the Flying Spaghetti Monster) and next thing you know you're shooting out into this world resembling us and exhibiting a deep respect for grana padano. It's science.

With IVF you go the standard route or spend extra to take things a step further, hopefully ensuring a greater chance at a successful pregnancy. The problem is sometimes that extra step, genetically testing each embryo, is expensive and may or may not be billable to your insurance that you probably don't have. We were lucky in that our insurance coverage would reimburse for that test, but the problem is you still have to pay up front for it. By the time you get the receipt and submit your claim you may already be out of the original insurance benefit. But that's not all.

Your insurance may cover fertility but it's not going to be 100% of whatever they do along the way. You're going to be nickel and dimed to death along the way. Then, something like this could happen:

You're told the genetic test will cost around $2500 to $3,000 because they give you a base cost for testing up to 8 embryos. After the 8, assuming you have more to test, they will charge you $250 per embryo for any sample over the original 8. So when 21 eggs are retrieved and 17 are fertilized properly, you're going to start panicking because sending an extra 9 embryos to get tested is going to cost an extra $2,250. Of course that's if they all grow in the lab properly for the next 5 days, but if you have shitty luck like I do you figure you're definitely going to be on the hook for close to 4k.

Because they don't bill your insurance for you they require a credit card for whatever it is they'll need to charge you. I'd just gotten a job again after a year of unemployment, which meant we had income but hardly anything in the bank. Plus every credit card was maxed. I needed to take what we had and pay down a credit card by 4k so I could count on having that money available and dedicated to making sure we could pay for these tests.

So I chose a card, one that I always liked better than the others for no real reason I could verbalize, and made a payment for 4k. The next morning I was headed to visit my dad for our annual member-guest golf tournament. A great time with lots of golf and quality father son time. On the drive to his place my phone dinged with an email. At the next stop for gas I checked it and found this:

"There was a recent review of your account and credit information. As a result, we have revised the credit limit to $3,050. This decision was based on the information obtained from a consumer reporting agency."

So basically, after paying down my maxed out 7k credit card by 4k they just took the money and immediately lowered my limit to roughly $75 over my remaining balance. The 4K for the test was gone.

And with that I should probably stop. I'm getting the black rage all over again and you need to go to sleep. Grow those limbs, practice breathing, and get mentally prepared for entering the world in the year 2016. A time of civil unrest, proudly uneducated citizens, but yet, far less Justin Bieber than a mere 12 months ago. I feel like we're trending in a good direction and I can't wait to guide you through it all.

So have a great night and keep this advice in mind:

People may be horrible, and often are, but they're always entitled to their wrong opinions. Mock them once they leave, never while they're there. That way, if you have to ever see them again in a social situation, they have no idea how stupid you think they are.

~ Your Dad

model baby

We got to see your face last night, and I know I might be slightly biased, but you're probably the cutest baby ever. We did a 3D ultrasound, and by using some crazy science that I don't understand, they turned sound waves into your adorable face. And your little feet and hands! You love your hands. You had one in your face almost the whole time. You were also holding onto your umbilical cord like it was a balloon from a party clown. Something you'll never have at your birthday parties because clowns are creepy, and there are plenty of scary things in this world we won't be able to shield you from, but clowns aren't one of them.

Seeing you made me fall even more in love with you. You have the sweetest chubby cheeks already! And your daddy's nose. And you are a little stubborn because you hated facing the camera. I even stood on my head for a little bit to try to get you to move. It did not help. Glad you get something from me! Just 10 1/2 more weeks until I get to snuggle with you and kiss that gorgeous chunky face. Even if you are as stubborn as I am, I will always always love you and take care of you and do my best to develop as much patience as it takes to help you grow into a happy human. I feel so incredibly lucky. Thanks for doing your part by growing big, strong and healthy.

 ~mama

People' Instinctive Travels Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

Hey Nugget,

Just your old man here, picking up where he left off on the subject of how you came to be. To recap, we tried everything and nothing but buttsex* seemed to work. 

*Not scientifically proven but try telling that to my heart. 

Anyway, we'd had a couple miscarries and it was time for medicinal intervention, and not the wacky tobacky kind. There are these doctors called, well, doctors, and they specialize in making babies out of thin air. The same way David Copperfield makes a card appear in your pocket, Penn & Teller can put a cut-to-all-hell woman back together again, and Jesus was an expert at finding coins behind ears, these saints will McGuyver a baby for you out of two rubber bands, a Zagnut wrapper, and spoiled plums. It's like wizardry. But we'll get to that part later. 

The first questions we needed to answer were 1) Where do we go for help, and 2) How will we pay for it? I'm not rich, as you can probably tell by how I constructed that last sentence. A Harvard man would know how to get that grammathically correct and he wouldn't have to make up words when his vocabulary fails him. 

So, where to go? In our case there were three options. The largest health system in town has a fantastic place that friends and family have used with success. The slightly smaller rival system has a very well respected center as well. We also had friends who used that facility. To make things even more difficult, there's a third option in town where a local guy named Fast Eddie guarantees a baby "within three months of purchase" and "with relatively similar skin color". Price was right, reviews were terrible. 

We picked the first option and couldn't be happier. Well, that's not true. In fact, that's an overused phrase. We could have been way happier for a variety of reasons: Less expensive, quicker, free massages, Mellow Yellow cans in the vending machines. You get my point. 

For our first attempt at making you we pumped your mama full of hormones and whatnot, attempting to make her ovaries take their loafers off and relax. A relaxed ovary is a happy ovary and a happy ovary is going to produce so many eggs you'll be giving extra to friends. Those friends will be like, "Gross! Why did you just dump them in my hands haven't you heard of a container?" but they don't know how expensive containers are these days, and besides, you're saving for a baby!

So with crazy good egg production comes an increased chance one of the sperms can Kool-Aid Man their way into an egg and make a human. Unfortunately it didn't work. 

So then they offered up a few more options to try:

IUI: This is where they place a tiny robot in the vagina and it does this little robot traffic cop dance that shows the sperm where to look for eggs. Works best on nerdy, rule following sperm and we've already decided you'll be a pro athlete so we passed. 

IVF: That's "In Vitro Fertilization". With IVF the doctor will spend lots of time inside the vagina getting to know it, mapping its many tunnels and surprises. Once they have the topography figured out they can properly spelunk an embryo into the correct spot. More on that later. The embryo, not the spelunking. 

ST: With ST (Shake Treatment) they get a double dose of the dad's sperm and after injecting the woman with it they spin her upside down and use a human version of Home Depot's paint shakers to distribute the sperm in "all the right places". The key to this treatment is knowing when to find another doctor if yours follows up "all the right places" with a high five attempt. Which is how we ended up doing IVF. 

The basic gist of IVF is that the doctor will stop letting your bumbling idiot bodies swing and miss at making babies and do the work for you in a lab. Once they create a little lab baby they might put it right into the mama or they may freeze the baby for later, ensuring they get a good seal on the ziplock because freezer burn is how things like Seal's face occur. 

(That was mean of your dad to say, by the way. Always remember that I say many things as jokes and would never hurt someone's feelings on purpose. Unless they deserve it, of course. Seal is probably a good person and I'm no Bradley Pitt in the face department either. But back to the story. I'll make up for this later by holding the door for a broad, or something. Oh wait! I had a gimme in the karma bank from the other day. I told someone with truly ridiculous hair that I liked it because I could tell they worked hard on it and were more than likely quite proud of it. So I'm even!)

((And probably like, a saint or something.))

(((It was a woman and she made her hair into the shape of a hat. It was flawless execution but pretty ridiculous nonetheless.)))

But one reason they might freeze an embryo instead of immediately putting it inside the mama is that sometimes you can have two seemingly healthy people who get pregnant but can't stay pregnant. And in that case they can do an additional test of embryos to determine whether or not they're good or bad. If they don't do that test, and simply dump (medical term) the embryo straight into the mama there's a big risk that the embryo was destined for miscarriage right from the get go. That just leads to another soul crushing moment a few weeks later and delays the chances of a baby yet again.

We were a great example of those types of potential parents, having less of an issue getting pregnant as we had staying pregnant. So we got tested to see if we had any genetic issues hiding in our bodies that would, to quote from the journal Annals of Obstetrics and Gynecology, "cause a Jeff Dunham". It turns out we had no such issues, my own genetic makeup scoring a perfect 100 on the Aryan Scale. Your mama's was pretty good as well.

This all means that we were ready for our first round of IVF. But right now it's probably time you take a break from reading and get back to growing all your important parts. A little advice before I go...

If you don't know the answer on a test, a good strategy is to go with C. If it's not multiple choice, or a question asking you to write down your favorite vitamin, you're screwed and you should write in a hilarious answer you can brag about while everyone else is graduating.

~ Your Dad