The Inside Story

I'm not sure how to do this, but I thought I'd give it a try. Unlike my husband, I am not sure what to do with a computer besides play games and check my email. But I thought it would be kind of interesting to put my experiences down as well.

It's a very strange feeling to be at the mercy of one's body. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. Everyone tells me that it will only last for a few more weeks, so I'm looking forward to that. I read Michael's posting about feeling distant and have to agree. This pregnancy seems to have simultaneously brought us closer and pushed us apart. It's hard for me to stay in the moment when I feel yucky.

On a positive note, though, there is plenty of humor in pregnancy as well. Just in case you didn't know, pregnant women fart. And farting and nausea don't really make for a good combination. I feel like I'm constantly having to dodge my own stench. Walking swifly around the house trying to find a place upwind. I farted so louldy the other day that I scared the cat. I had a good laugh at that.

I have also become pretty goofy. Apparently, the baby comes first when it comes to my blood, my nutrients, and my brain functions as well. I've become quite the airhead. I can't help but laugh at myself, especially now that I'm so emotional. I laugh at myself for crying and for laughing at things that aren't funny. It's a viscious circle. Last night Michael and I went to a movie and I giggled at all the previews. Michael looked at me with disbelief and asked if all those movies looked so good to me. I just shrugged and laughed some more.

Well, hopefully by the next time I post I will be feeling better. I still can't believe that I am making another person right now. I'm making another person. This kind of thing goes on every day, but I still can't believe it.

Movin' right along

We're now approaching week 10. Hosanna is in the full swing of nausea. She spends most of the time eating, lying down, or lying down and eating. It's just got to be the suckiest thing I've seen in a long while. She's not thrown up much since the chile relleno incident, but she definitely feels queasy all the time.

It's weird that we can no longer take for granted that she can eat whatever she wants to. Everything throughout the day revolves around food. If you screw up the food, then the day can get ugly. Luckily, we have found a routine that seems to work. Each night before we go to sleep, I cut up an apple and leave it on her nightstand. When she wakes up to pee, usually about six, she eats that, then can usually go back to sleep. I get up and get ready for work about seven; then I bring her up a bowl of cereal. So long as she eats it before she gets out of bed, then it seems like she'll be ok.

I'm feeling increasingly disconnected from her these days, which is disturbing me a little. Part of it is that I tend to shut down whenever I encounter new or unusual emotions. Part of it is that she's asleep a lot so I have more time to myself than usual. Also it's been really cold and dreary weather and I feel a bit of cabin fever.

I really want to get out and do stuff. I'm driven to fix things that I've let slide for a while. I took care of some random stuff that was bugging me on one of our cars; when it's not raining I've been doing some yardwork that I've neglected all winter; and I've tried to do some work on the bathroom we've been getting ready to paint, stripping off the remaining wallpaper residue. Unfortunately, I've also been playing a lot of XBox, which probably isn't helping my mental attitude any. Getting exercise seems to be the most important thing for me right now - whenever I do, I feel much, much better and more positive about the whole thing.

Last night we had a big brainstorm on names. I think we've settled on the middle names - Isaac, after my grandfather, or Kathryn, after Hosanna's mother. The first names are still the center of debate though. I think we know what the front runners are, but I don't think I'm ready to reveal them to the world yet...

A bad morning

I had some of my worst nightmares in recent memory last night. They were horrible. I don't even want to go into the details.

As I'm trying to write this, one of our three cats, Hobbes, is whining and meowing and clamoring for attention. Jumping on my lap, jumping off my lap. Rubbing up against me over and over again. Pet me! Love me! Pay attention to me!

We toured a birthing center at a hospital in Davis yesterday. It's quite far from our house, but we went there because they allow midwives and doulas, can provide water birth, and encourage natural childbirth. But it still felt very much like a hospital. We both thought it was okay - there were things we liked and things we didn't like - but my wife definitely prefers the very small, independent birthing center that's close to our house. Even though I didn't like the midwife there very much and they are not in our insurance's network, I agree that the environment was much nicer. It felt like someone's house. In fact I think it probably *is* someone's house. Friends of ours had their baby there a few months ago and they raved about it.

My wife woke up this morning at 4:30 a.m. needing to pee, then she was eating some apple slices that we left by her bed last night. I could tell she was trying really, really hard to chew quietly and not keep me awake. I was in a sleep fog and everything seemed to move in super slow motion. Each chew seemed like it took five thousand days. Little tiny chews, like a mouse nibbling a lettuce leaf.

Now I'm going to go bring her "a big bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats," which was the order she placed last night.

Hobbes finally settled down. He's all stretched out, big fluffy tummy up in the air, tail gently flicking around. All of our cats have been edgy lately; sometimes I wonder if they know something big is coming.

The beginning

According to my little calendar over here, today is allegedly week 9, day 64. Our little tyke is about an inch long and has all of its organs.

I picked up a copy of "The Expectant Father." The guy says that in the first month, the major thing that the father-to-be is probably feeling is elation. Thanks, buddy, for making me feel guilty for not feeling elated. I feel like I *should* be elated, but I'm not. I'm feeling a range of things, from scared shitless to proud to ambivalent and back to scared shitless, but where the hell is the elation hiding?

It's not like this was unplanned. We have wanted it for a while. We postponed it a couple years while we got through some uncertain times, and then there was another year where it seemed like it couldn't happen because my wife's body was eliminating all traces of the birth control pills she had taken for fifteen years. Then we really tried for just a couple months. Despite talking about it a lot and acknowledging the commitment we were making, at some level I still didn't really take it that seriously - mainly because years of birth control had trained me to believe that it's not even possible anymore. I mean come on, with all the abuse I've given to my body over the years, no way it's gonna work, right? Nevertheless, one morning in early January I'm eating a bowl of cereal in the kitchen when she comes downstairs, clutching the little dipstick thingamajig in one hand, and too-casually asks "does this look like a cross to you?"

So, now it's a month later, and the panic is still hanging out with me, like a new favorite CD. So many questions: How will we pay for the birth? Where will he/she sleep? How long can my wife take off work? What kind of diapers should we use? Where should we have the baby? What shouldn't my wife eat? How long will she be sick? Will it be a boy or a girl? What about names? Who do we still need to tell? What if I need to work lots of overtime? What about my wife's students? etc. etc. etc.

My wife is upstairs and I think she finally managed to sleep. So far the foods that are working for her are pickles, most kinds of fruit, fresh O.J., various soups, celery with cream cheese, cranberry juice, popsicles, pasta and bagels. The first thing that made her throw up was a chile relleno, which made us realize that fried food isn't going to fly anymore. The cravings are bizarre but they aren't that hard to get used to. I mean, even if she wasn't pregnant, I'm the type of guy who would run to the store at 11:00 on a Sunday to get her a jar of pickles. I'd probably get myself a beer or something too and we'd make it a party.

It's hard, though, seeing her in constant discomfort. She's a little more distant than usual because she's working through it. One morning she woke up totally parched after having dreams about being thirsty. She drank a big glass of water, then about ten minutes later threw it all up. She asks me things like "This isn't going to last for the whole pregnancy, is it?" And I can only say "I don't think so, baby," but what do I know? I don't know anything.