Nesting

According to wikipedia, the nesting instict refers to an urge in pregnant animals to prepare a home for the upcoming newborn(s). The nesting instinct is found in a variety of animals, both mammals and birds. Wikipedia says that in rodents, the instinct is characterized by the urge to seek the lowest sheltered spot available. Dogs find a place like a box and smooth out the bottom. Domestic cats often make nests by bringing straw, cloth scraps, and other soft materials to a secluded nook or other small space.

Wikipedia doesn't mention Traci. Though, today's activities make clear that she's nesting. I've always known Traci to be fairly tidy. She will occasionally go through a pretty fierce cleaning spurt. Though, I've never seen anything quite like today. Our entire home is now clean, but our kitchen is, well, let's just say you could do open heart surgery on the kitchen floor if you needed to. The kitchen walls are scrubbed. The base boards are scrubbed. All of our dishes are clean. The dog bowls sparkle. And, then, there's the kitchen floors. To say that the floors have been scrubbed seems inadequate. I'm not sure which English verb means "cleaned meticulously with a three-bristle tooth brush & a gallon of elbow grease", but that appears to be what's been done to our kitchen floors. I could simultaneously eat off of them & comb my hair in the reflection.

Seems like it might not be long now ....

16 Days & Counting

Wow. Just wow. Baby's due date is just 16 days away. And, I've been wondering ...

Will she come late, making a grand entrance? Will she make a surprise early appearance? And, what will she look like? Will she have Traci's cheek bones? Will she have my thick crease across her forehead? Surely she'll have dimples, won't she? Will she be dark or fair? Tall - of course, she'll be tall. Maybe she'll be thoughtful & compassionate like her Mom. Maybe she'll be a sentimental slob like her Dad. Maybe she'll like to play with dolls, or maybe she'll rather play with army men in the mud. Maybe she'll love to ride her bike with playing cards in the spokes. Maybe she'll enjoy pulling the dogs tail. Whatever she'll be, we can hardly wait to know her. Whatever she'll be, we can hardly wait to love her more.

Her nursery is ready. Her bed is made. The stroller & car seat sit in the corner of her room. A pediatrician has been picked. Her Mom's hospital bag is packed. And, we wait.

Friday Nights

Remember when Friday nights meant mom or dad dropping you off at the movie theater to hang out with your friends? You spent half the night eating sour patch kids and the other half shoveling quarters into a Pacman video game.

Remember when Friday nights meant high school football games? You wore your favorite sweatshirt and stood at the edge of the field. You held someone's hand for the first time or exchanged innocent pecks under the bleachers.

Remember when Friday nights meant parties at the sorority or fraternity house? You stayed out late, acted like you were all grown up. Then back at the dorm you stayed up even later talking about who you saw, who you met & wondered if they liked you too.

Remember when Friday nights meant dates, a dinner & a movie? Remember when Friday night meant meeting friends after work for happy hour? Remember when Friday nights meant concerts & house parties? Remember when Friday nights meant a long walk for ice cream with someone special? Remember when Friday night meant just snuggling on the couch for a movie?

Remember when Friday night meant washing brand new baby clothes & unpacking a fresh pack of newborn diapers? WAIT. What?

Yup. Friday night & we're unpacking hand-me-down baby clothes & clipping the tags from new ones. Baby's complete wardrobe, all those tiny little onesies & sleepers, fill only half the washer. Then we'll dry, fold, & place them gently in the freshly lined dresser drawers where they wait for 6 more short weeks.

Calm Before the Storm

We attended the first of our four birthing classes this evening. As we entered the hospital, signs posted in the hallways led you to "Birth Education Classes". A more accurate sign would've read, "Annoying People who don't listen to the instructor and ask the same question that's already been asked FOUR TIMES -> this way". Sheesh. Sometimes I wonder how some people even find their way from the bed to the bathroom in the morning.

Aside from the uber-random, repeat questions, it was an okay first session. The first session was very much an overview. Later sessions delve into more detail about labor, relaxation techniques, and other topics. The class included a tour of the Labor & Delivery and Mother & Child sections of the hospital. We were both suprisingly unemotional & calm about the whole event. I think we went into the evening thinking that the class (and tour in particular) would somehow create a sense of "reality" that would frighten or excite us. But, it didn't. Maybe that reality already exists. Maybe the information learned created a calm rather than anxiety. Or maybe, maybe it's just the calm before the storm.

33 weeks down. 7 to go.

Single Digits!

Well, folks, we're down to 8 weeks -- yay for single digits! Or, maybe....crap, single digits. At this point, it depends on the day you ask -- in some respects, it seems like the last 32 weeks have floooown by. In others, it seems like we might never get to hold the little girl that awaits us at the end of this journey. And, what a journey it's been. Just to share a few statistics and factoids -- in 2009, we've experienced

...2 pregnancy tests (yes, we went back to the drugstore for a 2nd one after our first positive result, we couldn't believe it!)

...9 doctor's appointments so far (with many more to come)

...4 ultrasounds

...376 prenatal vitamins (approximately -- that's TWO big horse pills a day. For those who know me, you know this alone is a HUGE accomplishment for me and my overactive gag reflex)

...1 craving for chocolate cake so bad I made one myself

...268,080 minutes since finding out we're having a baby

I must say, when I look at it in those terms, it's understandable that I forget what life was like pre-pregnancy! But, now there's just 8 short weeks until a new life enters this crazy world. A new circle begins & I can hardly wait to see where it goes. Just eight weeks.

She's yours now. You can do with her what you want.

Wednesday night Traci & I did the most grown-up thing that we've likely ever done. We attended a breastfeeding class. Breastfeeding classes are not for the immature. They include a fair amount of frontal nudity, at least in the presentation materials shown, and a lot of talking about breasts & nipples. It's more than just the "mature content" though that makes breastfeeding class for full-fledged adults only. Children don't have children. (Well, in some cases they do, but they shouldn't.) Adults have children. Parents have children.

I'm finding that my transition to parenthood is a big step towards what I perceive to be "full-fledged adulthood." I haven't lived with my parents in 13 years. It's been nearly 15 years that I've had serious levels of independence. I've bought and sold houses. I've taken jobs & moved. I've married the best girl ever. All of these were decisions that I made. My parents have offered their 2¢ when warranted, but these are all major, adult, life decisions that I've essentially made for myself or with T. Through all of these though, I still felt like my parents' child. If I failed, "Mom" would rub my hand or "Dad" would help me fix it. I suppose they'll still do those things for as long as they can, but now things begin to feel different. Soon I'll be the parent.

It will be our responsibility to make decisions for another person, a person who won't be capable of making her own decisions for a long time. It will be our responsibilities to soothe the hurt, fix the failures, and praise the triumphs. As we turn this corner, begin this new chapter (have your pick of the metaphors), I begin to feel a hint of the weight of parenthood. No doubt that for all it's trials & tribs it'll be among the most rewarding adventures ever, but for now it's unknown & a skosh scary.

During the breastfeeding class, the lactation consultant talked at great lengths about the pro's of breastfeeding, the con's of formula feeding, the ups & downs of using a bottle from time to time, the good & bad of pacifiers, feeding at will, and a host of other controversial, new parent topics. In the end, though, she said, "She's yours now. You can do with her what you want." The lactation consultant is right. We're the parents. We make the rules now. But, but ... I'm used to following the rules, not making them ....

How?How?How?

As our lives hurtle forward to the much anticipated arrival of our little one, we've decided to try to blog. We know that we're far from many of our family & friends and we hope that this might be one way of keeping in touch & sharing our changing lives with them. Hopefully you'll hear from both of us, individually & together, and hopefully we'll hear from you.

This evening we sat in a room full of soon-to-be, first time parents. We attended a short lecture given by a pediatrician at one of the local hospitals. He talked for more than an hour about breast feeding & bottle feeding, physiological jaundice, gestational diabetes, how to trim baby finger nails, how not to take advice from other people, and what felt like a gazillion other topics that we've not even begun to think about. At times it seemed like so much to think about. At other times, we looked around the room & thought, we must be more prepared than lots of these people. I'm guessing though, we'll never really be ready.

A flurry of note taking went on through the session. Though, I sat with my arms folded and listened intently. Traci sat, pen poised for note taking, and wrote very little. Are we more retentive than all the other parents there? Or, are we just more laid back? Somehow I doubt either is true. I also doubt that writing anything down would've done much good. In 4 months when our baby is whaling at the top of her little lungs, it's unlikely that we'd run to our notes. But, what will we do? How will we know? This is the worry. Everyone says, "you will know." But, how? How?How?How?

We were struck by the pediatrician's discussion of cutting baby finger nails. He suggested that using so-called baby finger nail clippers will inevitably lead to bloody fingers & toes. He suggested using manicure scissors, but that's not the point. The point is that, in a very casual out-of-the way manner, he said don't put a band-aid on those bloody, baby fingers. Baby'll chew her fingers & can choke on the band-aid. "Wow," we both seemed to have thought. How would we have ever thought of that? And, of course, it's not just band-aids but a hundred other things that we've not yet discovered. How will our poor baby not choke on our sheer ignorance? How?How?How?