The Lifting.

     There's a scene in a Family Guy episode where Clinton's motorcade breaks down in front of Peter's house. Still excited about his new workout regimen, Peter tells the secret service he can lift the car all by himself. He says "the trick is to shift all the weight from your legs through to your back and groin, then lift with a twisting jerking motion. You wanna take your legs completely out of the equation". He proceeds to do just that and absolutely wrecks his back.
     Fellas, I have a feeling there's going to be a lot of heavy lifting involved in my wife's pregnancy; and not just by her. Oh no, on the contrary. The more pregnant she gets the less she's able to carry. Don't get me wrong, I understand. Her center of balance is off, she's already carrying a quadrillion pounds of baby, her ankles are the size of pony kegs. I get it, I really do. But this early in the pregnancy?
     My wife is a machine. She would give any terminator a run for its money. While coaching cross-country at the high school where she teaches is hardcore, the fact that the school is in the middle of a desert takes it up a notch. At the time of this post she's just a couple of weeks into her second trimester and she's still sporting a six-pack. There are claims her "skinny jeans"* no longer fit, but skinny jeans won't fit her after we spent four dollars at Taco Bell (which, admittedly, is a considerable amount of food).
     I'm a nice guy. I'm a giver. So I pitch in because I love her and I want to show it. Then, while hoisting laundry from the car I already packed to the second car she now wants it in, it hits me: this is a test! It's gotta be! My wife, the model for independent women of the 21st century, asking me to help carry laundry? I don't think so! She wants to know if I'm going to be able to pull my (literal) weight when the baby gets here.
     Apparently, there is a massive amount of pure and unadulterated stuff that goes into moving a baby from point "A" to point "B". I've heard some names the "stuff" has, but I can't pretend to remember them all. What I do know is, the world will stop if any one of those things gets left behind. So who's going to be loading up all this "stuff"? Well, yours truly! And you know what? I'm totally up for it. Can't wait. Bring it on!
     I'm gonna kick the stuffing out of moving baby stuff. I'm gonna make a Velcro suit and just stick everything that kid owns to my body. I'll be a walking baby daycare, one man band, DDR machine. Maybe.
     Then again, maybe she just wants me to move stuff for her because all I'm doing is watching tv.
It's probably that last one.

*"Skinny Jeans" define the type of pant, not the person in them. This is a critical distinction to make when dealing with a woman who, for whatever reason, can no longer fit in them. It's not that she's "not" skinny, it's just the jeans are too skinny. Trust me, gentlemen, this will save you lots of pain. Lots. Of. Pain.

The MASSIVE!

Catie was flipping through the channels and A Baby Story was on. Some lady was giving birth to an 11 pound baby. I have never seen her change channels that fast. It was amazing.

The Touching.

     There have been a couple of posts about people touching my wife's belly without asking (The Questions. and The Stranger.), but it really hit home this evening. I'm sitting in class for the first time, with people I don't know, have never met, and am totally unfamiliar with. In order to send out the international symbol of, "Hey, I'm not really interested in talking to you right now", I've got my laptop out, I'm surfing, and I'm typing out an email. There has been no eye contact or smiles at all. None. And then, this rando dude walks over, puts his sweaty palm on my shoulder, flashes me a cheesy grin, and says, "I hope you're doing well tonight..." Well sir, I was doing well right up to the time when you walked over here and infected me with a terminal case of the creepies. Thanks for that. I'm not usually this kind of guy, but I felt like looking at him and saying, "Don't ever touch me again." But I didn't, I bit my tongue and just let the weirdness subside.
     Later that night I'm telling Catie about this and she says, "At least it was just your shoulder. Think about what it's like when total strangers do it to your belly." Ya know, i never really thought fully about that because I don't think I had a good way to contextualize it. Well, thanks Mr. Creepy Pants Man, I now have way more context then I ever wanted. You were an unknowing messenger that brought Catie and I closer together with your inappropriate greeting. Thank you. Now don't ever touch me again.

The Flowers.

     I figure, since the baby is going to suck down our income like a roided up AIG going after your mother's retirement funds, now's the time to spend, right? So, go out and buy your pregnant wife some flowers. Partially because she's wonderful, partially because it may temporarily assuage the ever raging tide of hormones, and it may also get you points that can be redeemed in the evening hours... Seriously though, buy some flowers for your baby momma. If you think you can't afford it now, just wait. Gentlemen, start your wallets.

• 1-800 Flowers
  
• FTD (by the way, does anyone know what FTD actually stands for? I don't)
  
• Pro Flowers
  

The Freaking-Out-Man!

     Seriously, freaking. Out. Right. Now. I was just sitting in class, going over the syllabus, and I realized that we're supposed to have a baby before this course is done. Started having tiny panic attack. Catie's been walking around with this big beautiful belly, I've felt the baby move, I have seen the sonogram, heard the heartbeat, I know there's a little creature in there! Why am I freaking out now? Shouldn't this have been done a while ago? Also, I was looking at the reading list and I'm going, "yeah...not sure if I'm going to be all read up on somatoform disorders by the thirtieth. Supposed to be having a baby on the third...sorry." Really? If this baby is RIGHT on time it'll fit pretty well into the schedule, but what are the chances of this baby being right on time? Are you kidding me? I gotta take a minute. I'll see you all tomorrow.

The Braxton-Hicks.

     Much like the Rh factor, Braxton Hicks is a good name for a band, but it's also fake contractions that start around the third trimester. I did a little research (this time) before saying Braxton Hicks isn't a band. Turns out, there are actually multiple bands called Braxton Hicks. So, I will make no such claim. Anyway, apparently it feels like the baby is curling up into a ball and doubling their mass. Don't ask me how, it just happens.
     Really, this one scares a lot of people so I wanted to put some information & links on here. Biggest question? How do I know if it's labor or Braxton Hicks? Easiest answer? If a baby comes out, it was real labor. Also, if the contractions get less intense, then it's Braxton Hicks. Probably not blogroll worthy, but important information none the less.

• BabyCenter Nice general stuff with some other links.
  
• American Pregnancy Association Very professional site dedicated to baby stuff.
  
• Kaiser Permanente: Recommended if you're on their insurance...
  

The Questions.

     "I am a human. There is more to me than a due date, what sex the baby is, and what we're going to name it. It's the first three questions I get from anyone. And everyone keeps asking me if I feel okay. Do I look like I feel okay? I'm just going to get a shirt that has the due date, her gender, and a big freaking question mark where name is supposed to be. Stop it! Stop grilling me. Yes, I'm pregnant. I am fine with that. No, you can't touch my belly. And if you ask me if I'm having triplets I may very well eat you feet first so you can be conscious as long as possible and suffer the greatest. I'm pregnant, not ill. I'm may be huge, but I'm not fat. I'm pregnant. There's a big difference. And if you're a guy, your best move right now is just to act like there's nothing different about me at all. If I need help, I'll ask for it. Until then, back off, give me my space, remember that I make wide right turns, and if I drop a pen, leave it there; if I really wanted it, I probably wouldn't have dropped it in the first place. I do NOT need a "grabber" or a handicap placard. Thank you."
~Catie Croy~
     This concludes the broadcast of our public service announcement. If you have any further questions, it is recommended you do not ask pregnant woman, as certain death may ensue. Instead, redirect all queries to an older male with more experience, or find a website (like this one) where you can post questions in a safe environment. Thank you, and remember: The more pregnant a woman becomes, the more space she will need...at least from strangers.

The Words.

     Some words are pretty easy to understand. Once you hear them, even if you've never heard them before, they just make sense. Like titillate. That word makes total sense: "later" you're going to see or get something great. But then there are other words that you're almost guaranteed to mess up because someone didn't know what they were doing when they suggested it to Webster. Penultimate is one of those words that means exactly the opposite of what I thought it meant the first time I heard it. The word ultimate is right there! It should mean better than the best, but it doesn't. It means second to last. Why is there even a word for "second to last"? Isn't that just another in the large group of losers-that-won't-be-getting-recognition-but-we-all-act-like-we're-proud-of-them category? I think so! Regardless, since Catie's pregnancy started I've been flooded with a bunch of words that, while I'm sure it wasn't intentional, have been sorta misleading.
     Great example: "Rh Factor". It sounds like a cool racing team, or even a big hair band. "WE ARE THE RH FACTOR, AND WE HAVE COME TO ROCK!!!" See, that totally works! But, it turns out that because my blood is positive and Catie's is negative, her body may try to eat the baby. That is not a cool racing team OR a big hair band. That is jacked up is what that is! Another one is c-section. Now, we all know what that is, but it still sounds like a nice place to set up on the beach! Or maybe the good area at a football game, "Hey Jack, where you sitting?"
   "I'm in the c-section, baby!"
   "Aw man! Jack gets all the good seats!"
     This is what I'm talking about. The confusion brought about by baby/pregnancy/neonatal/delivery jargon. On the other hand, if they used words that more accurately portrayed what was going on, I'm not sure if I'd be able to handle that any better. Instead of c-section, they'd take my wife in for a cut-n-gut. Instead of Rh factor, it'd be baby-eating factor. You know, now that I think about it, jargon is good. It's our friend. When I'm in the delivery room and the nurses and doctors are saying random stuff I can't translate, I'm gonna be okay with that. Since I'm going to be a dad real soon, I guess the confusion can start now.

P.S. Turns out Rh factor actually is a band, only they're jazz, not big hair. Actually, Roy Hargrove (Rh) kinda reminds me of Old Clifford from the muppets. See for yourself:

The Parasite.

     What are children if nothing more than glorified parasites that eventually learn to sustain themselves after 18 years? Viewing unborn children as a parasite has sort of stuck with me, and not really in a good way. Catie said she was listening to NPR and they were talking about how pregnant women are supposed to be highly susceptible to N1H1 flu because their bodies are already trying to fight off a foreign body. With Catie and I both teaching we get exposed to more runny nosed, sick, sniffling, hacking, coughing, wheezing, nasty, near death, people than nurses on death watch. It's bad. Yet Catie has yet to have a suspicious sneeze, cough, or sniffle. We're pretty sure it's because of the prenatal vitamins she takes, but who knows. Maybe it's because she's so healthy and (use to) exercises a bunch. I'm just glad the baby's going to come out without worrying if the head is going to stay attached. That...that's not a concern. Is it?

The Quarter.

     Really? One in four women misread a pregnancy test? Really? I might believe that one in four women accidentally pee on their hand, or take the test too soon, or that a quarter of women took their pregnancy test too soon so when it came up negative they went out drinking to celebrate and when they took another pregnancy test a few days later and it turned out positive they freaked out. That last one's a true story, happened to a friend of ours. Don't worry, the doctor said it wasn't a big deal and he gets that question all the time. So maybe that last one happens way more than 25% of the time. But still, misreading the thing? Just look at the box and compare pictures; this is grade school stuff!
     That being said, I should be honest and let you know that Catie and I actually bought the digital one that tells you in words "Pregnant" or "Not Pregnant". Not that I doubted my ability to read one line or two, it's just that it would look better in the pictures. It's the truth. In the days when pregnancy albums are obligatory content in Facebook, MySpace, unread blogs, and digital emailing, it's not cool to send a picture of two lines. Pregnancy tests may use a plus or a minus, and if you get a minus it may look like one line, not two, when actually it's a not pregnant, instead of an is pregnant. I think I said that right. Wait, am I getting confused about pregnancy tests? Am I one of the twenty-five percent? Come on!

The Diem (Day).

     The day after my wife gives birth is going to be the best! Not only am I going to officially be a new dad, but I'll be able to write about all the stuff that's going on now that's too weird, gross, strange, or embarrassing to write about at the moment. Sure, I should probably be more excited about the birth of my daughter, and I think I am, but this whole pregnancy thing is holding me back!
     We were talking the other day about whether or not to go to birthing class. We're trying to move down to Chula which would add about thirty minutes drive time to the hospital associated with our prenatal care specialist. Never really thought about that. When the day comes, the water breaks, and all my best laid plans fall to tiny and unorganized pieces, I hope I'm not around. I mean, I will be there for the birth of my child with camera in hand, but I'm not sure if I want to be there when "it" starts. It sounds totally selfish, but the leather in my car is really nice and...well...I just don't want the really nice leather in my car to not be really nice anymore. For me, best case scenario is if it happens while she's at work. Because she's a teacher our health insurance is fantastic so the ambulance ride would be free. You know what else we don't have to pay for? Someone to clean out the ambulance after my wife gets their leather all dirty. Insurance won't cover detailing, I've checked.
     As long as it happens at work, we're good to go! She gets a free ride with free cleanup, I get to gather all the stuff she needs, and drive it cleanly to the hospital where the miracles happen. No problem. Well, Catie's going to have to do some work, but according to our schedule, that's going to work out the best. You hear that, Baby Girl? Wait until she's at work, preferably on break, then just go crazy and head toward the light. You know, this parenting thing's gonna be a breeze!

The Meaning.

     Alright, this is like my third post about naming our child and we're no closer to actually coming up with a name. The thing that keeps stumping me is that I want out child's name to have meaning. My name means "gift of God", my wife's name means "Pure". One of our names is ironic, and it's not hers. Regardless, naming our child something that has no meaning doesn't sit well with me. I want it to be a reflection of how we feel about her, how blessed we are, how grateful we are. Yet, we can't find anything that works. We have a book of names, and I feel like we've been through it about seven times, but nothing pops out. Nothing screams: That's it, that's her name! So, we're still calling her baby. The good news is she doesn't seem to mind.

The Deafening.

     If I wasn't such a stickler for format, I would have named this post "The Night my Internet Enabled Phone Saved my Baby's Hearing". Just like the previous post said, last night Catie and I went to Kings of Leon. The concert was amazing and we really enjoyed it...but we have no idea how it looked. See, we're sitting there, waiting for the first band (The Whigs) to warm up the crowd and when they come on, there's this loud low rumble that makes baby freak out. She starts kicking and swinging in general protest. I had my hand on Catie's stomach and the vibrations from the bass were being amplified by this bag full of amniotic fluid. There's a good reason too. Turns out amniotic fluid amplifies lower notes, but as the pitch goes up the the noise level is actually filtered out. One exception to this is mom's voice, it actually gets amplified by about five decibels while all other voices are muted. You can read the article here.
     After a few more deep rumbles, Catie looks over at me and says, "You know, we never really thought about what this might do to developing ears, did we". In my defense, this is new to me. So I whip out my handy dandy internet enabled phone, and start reading about how loud noises and vibrations can retard mental development or even miscarriage. We decide not to chance it, and walk outside to listen to the rest of the show. It was a great show and Caleb Followill can scream like no one else. The baby's first show was a blast, but for the first time in my life, I'm starting to feel my age. I know this because I ended up looking forward to my bed more than anything else when the show was closing

The Standing.

     I'm kinda lazy. But I don't want everyone to figure that out, so instead I tell them I'm efficient. I don't think they believe me. There have been times when I watched entire movies, with commercials, just because I sat down on the non-remote-having couch. Apparently, my laziness will get even worse when I have children. While that may not make sense, stay with me here...
     My mother was always fond of saying, "You're young and on your first legs". I still don't know exactly what that means, other than, "go get it because I'm not getting up". My father didn't have to mow the lawn (often) from the time I was ten until I moved out. We all did our fair share of dishes and generally the share of work was fair, but there was one thing that drove me nuts. My parent's room was never filthy, but it wasn't what I'd call clean either. So, when they asked me to clean my room, I'd have a problem with that. How could they ask me to do something they couldn't do themselves? It wasn't fair and it assaulted my sense of justice, even at an early age.
     That's why I hope I'll be at least as moral and up standing as I want my children to be. I hope I'll expect them to keep their room as clean as I keep mine. I want to lead by example. But that may be a little tough. My life hasn't been one of perfection. When my kid comes to me and asks about drugs or alcohol or premarital sex, what am I gonna say; "Do as I say, not as I do"? That's not going to cut it. The honesty I exhibit, even in discussing my insane and ill advised youth, is just another example of exhibiting the morals I want my child to have. I'm stuck here, and I just hope I can send them to Catie when it comes to stuff like that. She grew up a saint.

The Death.

     If you're worried about the health of your soon to be mom, don't be. This is a fun little fact, according to NOW (National Organization for Women) in 2001 the number one killer of pregnant women were killers. That's right, the number one cause of death for pregnant women is murder. The upside to this is that you can really help the pregnant women in your life just by not murdering them. That's pretty easy! Just don't do it. Put the knife down...

The Hormones.

     Me: Honey, are you crying?
   Her: (with a slight tremble in her voice)...I don't know...
     Me: Is that a yes?
   Her: (this time, she's straight-up sobbing) YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!!!!!!
     Narrator as the voice in my head: Really? We were just talking about walking the dog....

     Fastforward to later in the day: Scene is my parents condo, my mom is on the phone to my sister who is understandably upset and crying because she's taking the crib apart for the last time because her youngest no longer needs it and he's her last child.
     Mom: You should hear your sister, she's got so many memories around that crib...
   Me: That's nothing, you should have heard Catie this morning. We were talking about walking the....Catie? Are you crying again?
     Her: (with the same tremble in her voice) .....No?

   As the tears began to fall, the entire room is filled with an awkward waiting. She cracks a smile, then everyone bursts into laughter. Catie's the only one crying while she's laughing, but that's pregnancy.

The Memory.

     You should check out this article. Apparently, "they" have found a way to test newborns and it turns out they have memories. They can tune into parent's voices and remember the feelings they had while in the womb. It makes me wonder what else the baby can remember...and for how long. I don't personally have any memory of my circumcision, but apparently I did for some point after my birth. Also, there's the issue of sex during pregnancy. Is my kid going to remember that? I really hope not.
     Regardless, there are some things parents should do while they're expecting. Talking to the baby, rubbing the belly, even mom should be talking to herself when alone. It can help the baby's mental development in general. So, when nothing is going on, just reach over and rub that belly. It's important to be in touch with your kid, even before they're born, not only for them, but also for you. As a father, we don't get any of the bonding time that happens during breastfeeding. And unless you're Peter Griffin, I wouldn't recommend trying to breastfeed your kid. So, talking and touching and just making the effort is hugely important. It also sets the stage for you to be in the practice of trying to connect with your child, and that's what a parent is all about.
     *Special thanks to Lynn Reader for the heads up about this article.

The Colostrum.

     If you don't know what colostrum is, that's okay. If you know what colostrum is but are surprised to see it in a container, that's okay too. Either way, colostrum can be surprising. Really, really surprising.
     Everyone knows breast make breast-milk after delivery. What not everyone knows is that before breasts start making milk, they start making a little thing called colostrum. Colostrum is made in tiny amounts in humans, larger amounts in bovines. The bovine type is what's in the bottle pictured above, and apparently you can cook with it. What I want you to know, is that it can pop up during sexual stimulation of the breasts and/or areolae. That should be enough said...you've been warned.

The Girl.

     Well, it's official, I'm never going to sleep again: it looks like we're having a daughter. At least we think we're having a girl. The ultrasound technician said he couldn't see "anything" there. Well, not seeing something doesn't mean it's not there, it just means it isn't visible under current conditions. Regardless, due strictly to karma, I'm pretty sure it really is a girl; and I couldn't be happier!
     Just between us, I had a sinking suspicion I'd be disappointed if our kid was a girl. Turns out, I was wrong. Really, really wrong. I can't believe how excited I am! A girl...it's gonna be great. Sure, "The Ugg-o" post still stands in theory, but what I really want is for my little girl to be happy. Also, I hope it wouldn't be too much to ask to have a good relationship with her. Daddy's little girl? Ya, I'm way more than okay with that, I can't wait!

The Pre-Birthday.

     Catie just got back from her baby shower in Ohio. It went better than we could have ever expected. Thanks to everyone who put it so much effort into it! I didn't have the opportunity to go because of work here in CA, but I saw the photos and it looked great. Catie got home and the first thing we started doing was to look up etiquette on "thank you" cards.
     It actually went so well, she couldn't bring everything home, so it got shipped here in a couple of boxes. It wasn't until I was going through everything it really dawned on me that we're having a baby. I know it's weird, but there was a giant box of diapers and I thought, "Wow, that should last about a week". I'm going to be a dad.
     All the things I thought I'd do differently than my parents, I know have a chance to do exactly the same. The patience I guaranteed myself is going to be tested by screaming and crying without interpretation. The love for my family will be met with, "I hate you! I wish I'd never been born!" just because I won't let them buy something. In about four months, I'll only be able to sit through half a movie before my kid freaks out. I'll only be able to sleep half the night before my kid freaks out. And I may only make it half way through the delivery before I freak out. Either way, it should be a lot of fun.