Friday, February 29, 2008
If you work in a place where . . .
Wait a second, that's how we started last Friday and look where it led . . .
Nevertheless, it is Friday. And I am hopeful for the weekend.
I finished the main part of the mantel last weekend so this weekend it is all about the crown molding. I have no idea how to do crown molding. From what I gather, you have to cut it a 45 degree angel at a 45 degree angle (that's not a typo) - up-side-down. Then you use the pneumatic nail gun to attach it. I don't have a pneumatic nail gun.
Oh well - we will give it the ol' college try.
Also on tap for the weekend? Yard work (which I enjoy). We also plan on going to church.
In Seattle, we had a church that we loved which has made it all the more difficult to find a church that is a good fit here in San Diego. For the past 5 years our church attendance has been sporadic at best and now the pressure is on to find a "church home". Why all the pressure? The BABY, of course!
We want our child to grow up with a strong spiritual foundation and church is just the thing. I don't believe that this is something that the wife and I can fully impart to our child on our own. Sure, we can teach our child to be a socially acceptable "good person", we can pray with our child and model Christian adulthood, but that's just the thing . . .
I don't want to be "the" spiritual model for my child - because I am basically a rotter and I want something more for my child. I want Christ to be the model. Sure, I can model what it is like to imperfectly pursue Christ-like-ness - but I want my child to be in touch with the source.
I am sure that we will have family devotions and run through the Bible stories and all. But it is different when your child gets spiritual direction not only from the home but from adults whom they spend time with outside the home.
I also want my child to develop friendships with peers in a setting centered around God and love and over-all betterment. I want my child to dress up once a week - memorize bible verses in exchange for cheap little goodies that double as choking hazards - sing in the children's choir - Go to church camps.
So, church it is.
We probably don't really need to settle on a church until the critter is 1 or 2 for the critter's sake but I would like to be established and at home in a church by the time the child is able to look around start making judgements.
So there it is. Weekend, come and get it!
4 receiving blankets
2 cotton blankets
Cradle w/ 3 cotton sheets
2 sets of crib bumpers (No idea what this is)
2 sets of crib sheets
2 sets of skirts (No idea what they are talking about)
2 crib matress pads
2 waterproof liners
Derek Clayton, Australian marathoner, first to break 2:09
Week 15: Are These Mood Swings Normal?
"One minute I'm crying, and the next I'm laughing. What's going on with me?"
Not to worry - you're just a regular passenger riding the pregnancy hormone express. In fact, seven out of ten expectant moms have an all-you-can-ride pass on that runaway mood train.
It's no wonder your emotions are so up and down (and up and down) now that you're expecting: Just look at all the ups and downs you're going through. One minute you're thrilled about becoming a mother (I've always wanted a baby!) - the next minute, you're freaking out about becoming a mother (what the heck do I know about babies?). A calm minute or two passes before the next stress comes on board - you're worried about your job, your relationship with your partner, how you'll handle the financial strain of a baby, how you'll handle a baby without dropping it, or all of the above. Five minutes later, you're positively giddy with glee as you finger the tiny baby clothes in the store (how can anything be so adorable!). You're worried about the weight you're gaining, yet you're thrilled with your new curves (and big boobs). But you're peeing all the time and you haven't felt the baby move yet and your heartburn is getting unbearable and..All aboard the roller coaster!
=Are they talking about me or my wife?=
In the afternoon I went to the Parent-Teacher conference. Took (G)Nat along – she sat in the hall in the classic trepidacious posture of a child knowing her Future is being discussed by the Authorities. Before the conference we examined the art on the wall; there were several dozen Uncle Sams with placards indicating the policies of the student should he or she ascend to the executive position. About 2/3rds advocated the planting of trees; one-third indicated a willingness to use presidential power to ban smoking. Most said they would make sure there was peace and everyone was happy. I asked (G)Nat what she thought of that.
“I don’t think the president can do that,” she said. “The happy part I mean.” She read another one out loud: “I would let everyone do what they want and make everyone free.” She winced. “Everyone free? Let robbers out of jail? I don’t think so.”
Another platform plank: “I would put cameras everywhere to stop robbers.” I asked (G)Nat if she agreed. (She’s afraid of Robbers.)
“It wouldn’t work,” she said. “You can’t have cameras everywhere.”
“But what if they did have cameras everywhere outside? They might make sure no one could do anything wrong.”
“I don’t want to be on camera.”
“Even if it stopped robbers?”
She shook her head. “They would figure it out anyway. With eeeevil plans.”
That they would.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
When the Supreme Court steps into their court room to hear a case, the justices have already read and studied the issue. I imagine that in most cases, they have already made up their minds on which way they are going to rule.
The oral arguments are not the beginning of the case before the Supremes, they are the wrap-up and a last opportunity for one side or the other to make their case . . . in 30 minutes.
Imagine if you only had 30 minutes to make your case and 15 of it was taken up by questions from the judges.
One judge you won't get a question from is Clarence Thomas. The last time he asked a question was February 22, 2006. That's two years and 142 cases ago.
Indeed, Thomas' comment was provoked by this question: Why do your colleagues ask so many questions?Good stuff.
His response: "I did not plant that question. That's a fine question. When you figure out the answer, you let me know," he said.
He also has said he will ask a pertinent question if his colleagues don't but sees no need to engage in the back-and-forth just to hear his own voice.
"If I think a question will help me decide a case, then I'll ask that question," he told C-SPAN's Brian Lamb in October. "Otherwise, it's not worth asking because it detracts from my job."
"I still believe that, if somebody else is talking, somebody should be listening."
"we are there to decide cases, not to engage in seminar discussions."
Left off the highway and
down the hill. At the
bottom, hang another left.
Keep bearing left. The road
will make a Y. Left again.
There's a creek on the left.
Keep going. Just before
the road ends, there'll be
another road. Take it
and no other. Otherwise,
your life will be ruined
forever. There's a log house
with a shake roof, on the left.
It's not that house. It's
the next house, just over
a rise. The house
where trees are laden with
fruit. Where phlox, forsythia,
and marigold grow. It's
the house where the woman
stands in the doorway
wearing sun in her hair. The one
who's been waiting
all this time.
The woman who loves you.
The one who can say,
"What's kept you?"
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
In fact, we were so poor that we entertained ourselves by playing ping pong and pool in our apartment complex's rec room as we could not afford a TV or cable.
I was waiting tables full time and going to school full time. The wife continued with her classes while working at a retail store downtown. There were some tough times.
Our one bedroom apartment was at the top of a hill and when our one and only car broke down, we had to take the bus home which let us off at the bottom of the hill and we would walk the rest of the way.
Walking that hill after a 17 hour day at 1am was not always easy. We usually tried to entertain ourselves by singing in harmony as we walked (I think it kept us from crying some days). "That Lonesome Road" by James Taylor was one of our favorites.
Near our apartment was a chain link fence with an enormous Jasmine vine. The smell of that sweet Jasmine was so wonderful and it reminded us that no matter how bad things got, there was still beauty in the world.
A friend gave us a Jasmine plant back in 2002 and it has been with us ever since. It sits in a big pot in the back yard and grows up and around our back deck.
Yesterday it bloomed and the wife (as she usually does), cut a spring and put it in a vase by the computer.
Life is sweet.
Growing by leaps and bounds, your baby is leaping and bounding. He or she is on the move almost constantly - and those movements are a far cry from those jerky twitches of last trimester (though you won't feel any of them for weeks to come). They are now ballet-like, smooth and fluid. If you could catch a glimpse of your fetus now, you'd see a baby the size of your clenched fist (a skill, by the way, your little one now has). Your baby also has the coordination, strength, and smarts to wiggle his or her fingers and toes and even suck a thumb (how cute is that?).
It'll be years before you'll start nagging your offspring to stand up straight - but unbelievably, he or she is doing it right now, without any prodding! No slouch anymore, your baby's neck is getting longer and his or her head is getting more erect (giving a more straightened-out appearance). And speaking of that head, your baby could be sprouting some hair (though the final color may not be determined until birth) and the eyebrows are filling in, too.
For some reason, I was under the impression that we were going to find out at our next appointment on March 3rd.
Turns out we will only be 14 weeks along at that point. Probably too early to tell . . .
We do have a super-duper ultrasound scheduled for the 31st of March so I am pretty sure we will find out then.
The wife and I were discussing it last night and we suddenly realized that almost all our friends with children have daughters. For the purposes of hand-me-downs, that means it would be easier if we had a girl as well (or a boy that likes pink).
- Peter Marshall
Monday, February 25, 2008
I got home around 11am on Saturday, putzed around for an hour and then took the dawg to dawg beach. We came home and I put in Guns, Germs and Steel. It's a National Geographic series that seeks to explain why some cultures have become so powerful while others have not.
I fell asleep.
But not because of the movie - I am just whipped from the long week at work.
Fortunately, I woke up in time to meet up with friends at The Linkery for dinner.
Sunday morning was spent watching CBS. They had a story about Chuck Feeney - a billionaire who took 5 million of his money to live on and GAVE AWAY THE OTHER 8 BILLION to people in need.
"Feeney, concluded Dwyer, was what Donald Trump would be if he lived his entireAfter that I put the finishing coat on the new mantel for the fireplace, we ran some errands, picked up the house and had a couple of buddies over who helped me pick up the book shelf we bought last weekend at an antiques store for the nursery.
existence backward. "
The wife stayed up last night digging out some of our children's books and some heirlooms from both our childhoods (click on photo for close up).
The two little dolls on the right-hand side are Holly and Heather Hobby Dolls that my wife and her sister used to play with. Next to those is a drawing in a black frame done by my wife's grandfather who passed away. The bear in the green jumper below was made for my wife by her grandmother who is turning 90 this year. On top of the book shelf (out of the photo) is one of my favorite pot-bellied bears from childhood - you get the picture. It gives me a little bit of a wispy feeling to see it all.
And now we have a place to put all the crap that we are beginning to accumulate . . .
Not bad for $50.
I am not very interested in going through the whole pregnancy, birthing, raising a child process "my way". I am much more concerned with going through it the "best way" and I freely admit that "my way" and the "best way" may not be one and the same.
Of course, we are all individuals and so we all come to this stage of life with our own variations. But it makes sense to me to collect thoughts and opinions from those whom you trust and admire and weed through them to find those that work for you. So I put out the "let's hear it" call to our friends.
One of the odd things is that I received more suggestions from the fathers in our group than the mothers.
I thought I would share some of the tips we have received here on the ol' Dawg Run in the hopes that they may spark more tips from others and maybe help someone going through the process for the first time like us.
So, here it is,our First Friendly Pregnancy Tip!
"So it's going to sound obvious but I mean it, spend time together. Have quiet dinners and good conversation, go out on dates regularly and try to limit the baby talk during these times, if possible. It's easy to get swept up in baby world and all the preparation that goes into it but the baby isn't here yet and these are the last opportunities to really enjoy each other for a long time."
Sunday, February 24, 2008
when senselessness has pounded you around on the ropes
and you're getting too old to hold out for the future
no work and running out of money,
and then you make a try after something that you know you
and this long shot comes through on the stretch
in a photo finish of your heart's trepidation
then for a while
even when the chill factor of these prairie winters puts it at
you're warm and have that old feeling
of being a comer, though belated
in the crazy game of life
standing in the winter night
emptying the garbage and looking at the stars
you realize that although the odds are fantastically against you
when that single January shooting star
flung its wad in the maw of night
it was yours
and though the years are edged with crime and squalor
that second wind, or twenty-third
is coming strong
and for a time
perhaps a very short time
one lives as though in a golden envelope of light
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008 --- Numbers 5-6
Tuesday, February 26, 2008 --- Numbers 7
Wednesday, February 27, 2008 --- Numbers 8-10
Thursday, February 28, 2008 --- Numbers 11-13
Friday, February 29, 2008 --- Numbers 14-15 - Psalm 90
Saturday, March 01, 2008 --- Numbers 16-17
Sunday, March 02, 2008 --- Numbers 18-20
I am woefully behind at this point. Simply Never Give Up! I am just going to double up until I am caught up . . .
Hey, I got a kid now . . . I need to be responsible . . .
1 pack of T-shirtsAnd by the way, I can't believe nobody has come up with a baby-starter kit yet!
6 One-piece outfits
6 pairs of socks
2 pairs of soft booties
2 pairs of cotton pants
15 baby hangers
Look, write a book just about the stuff you will need and why. Then sell three different levels of starter packs:
Pack #1: Thrift Store Option: some rags and safety pins for diapers, a couple of bottles, some formula and a potato sack to carry it all in - $35
Pack #2: Target Option (Our Most Popular!): a couple won-sees, some diapers, wipes, 3 bottles, some formula, ear plugs for dad, and a no-name diaper bag - $150
Pack #3: For Those Who Really Care About their Children: Cucumber soggy-bottom diaper bag, breast pump, hemp diapers, 12 hypo-allergenic bottles, bottle warmer, hand sanitizer and a stun gun for anyone who gets too close . . . $1200
It's 4:23 am and I am posting this from my office . . .
Things went crazy at work yesterday afternoon.
The fax machine lit up and never stopped.
The e-mails exploded.
People were leaving voice mails while I was retrieving my voice mails.
At one point I was e-mailing one client while talking with a second client on the phone all while a third client sat patiently in front of my desk awaiting his turn.
It got to the point that I no longer had time to work, all I could do was print e-mails and sort faxes into the correct files and stack the files in my "to do" pile.
Then it got really busy.
I didn't have time to grab files anymore, all I could do is scribble on post-its and stack them on a corner of my desk . . .
Around 2pm, I realized my Saturday was being taken from me and it put me in a foul mood.
But when I stop and think about it, there are plenty of people in my industry who have been laid off and would jump at the chance to come into the office on a Saturday.
It's just hard to get excited about having a job at 4:23am on a Saturday . . .
Why 4:23 on a Saturday morning? BECAUSE I NEED A SATURDAY. I woke up at 3:30am and thought, just get in there, get it done and spend the afternoon doing what you want to . . .
I can't miss another day off - I think I would spontaneously combust . .
Friday, February 22, 2008
If you work in a place where "casual day" is something to look forward to . . . well, I feel your pain.
3 weeks ago all H.E. double hockey-sticks broke loose with the new job, new pregancy and what-not. I have pretty much been red-lining it ever since.
Yesterday, the new job brought in someone to help me out. She is just "temporary" but it is someone I have worked with before and have faith in so I plan on rolling into the office today at the late hour of 7:30am or so (as opposed to 3:45am).
And it's casual day - did I mention casual day?
On the baby-front (and believe me, I have just about maxed myself out on the baby front - "booo baby") there is little-to-nothing more I can do. I have read what needs to be read, signed up for a couple of e-mail newsletters and enlisted the help and advice of friends with children (sounds like a 12-step support group "Hi, my name is Joe, and I have been a father for 2 1/2 years now . . . ." . . . (group) "Hi, Joe.")
At this point it is take it day-by-day, weed through all the advice and roll with it.
So the job is settling down, the prego-panic is at an ebb - now on to the house.
It's raining. It won't stop raining. IT WON'T FRIGGIN' STOP RAINING! The good thing about the rain is all those outside weekend chores get wiped right off the list.
I plan on picking up the book shelves we purchased last week (If I can find a pick-up or trailer).
I plan on finishing the mantel piece (not including the crown molding).
I plan on getting through some paperwork, voice mail, e-mail and snail mail.
I plan on picking up the house.
Maybe a little reading time by the fire . . . smoking pipe in hand.
NO! YOU CAN'T SMOKE IN THE HOUSE! YOU WILL KILL YOUR UNBORN BABY!
Fine. Maybe a little reading time on the back deck. In the rain. Bundled up from the cold. Smoking pipe in hand . . .
These kids I tell you, they change your life . . .
There you have it. I am coasting into this weekend on nothin' but fumes. But sometimes it feels good to coast . . .
And tomorrow night we are going back to The Linkery with friends! Cask-conditioned Victory-at-Sea, here I come! (Picture a beer made from chocolate cake, Starbucks and Guinness !) Woo Hoo!
According to BabyCenter.com, these were the top 20 names in January, 2007 (the most recent info they have):
Once there was a man who filmed his vacation.
He went flying down the river in his boat
with his video camera to his eye, making
a moving picture of the moving river
upon which his sleek boat moved swiftly
toward the end of his vacation. He showed
his vacation to his camera, which pictured it,
preserving it forever: the river, the trees,
the sky, the light, the bow of his rushing boat
behind which he stood with his camera
preserving his vacation even as he was having it
so that after he had had it he would still
have it. It would be there. With a flick
of a switch there it would be. But he
would not be in it. He would never be in it.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Actually, you don't do anything for a pregant insomniac (or, should I say, this pregnant insomniac). The wife has always struggled with more than her fair share of insomnia and she assures me this is no different. The baby has nothing to do with it.
Insomnia before pregancy? "Man, you should try and relax - drink some tea"
Insomnia after pregnancy? "Oh my gosh! Consult the Prego-web!"
Guilty, as charged. Boooo Baby.
More importantly, I did learn what to do when your dawg is sick . . .
I called home yesterday morning and the wife reported that the dawg was sacked out on his bed and not making a lot of movements to indcate his position would be changing anytime soon.
I went home at 11am, as promised, to check on him. He greeted me at the door but would not eat any of his favorite treats. When your dawg spits a Beggin' Strip on the floor and walks away, its time to call the vet.
I scheduled a 5pm visit.
I think I have mentioned it before, the health plan at Banfield is GREAT! $25 a month covers all your office visits, routine shots and examinations. When the pooch is sick, you don't have to stand there wondering if he is "A $50 office visit fee" sick or just a "Wait and see" sick.
So I took him in and and the vet actually confirmed the perscription I had found on the web on my own.
When your dawg is throwing up, don't allow him to "re-load".
1) Take away all water and food for 12 hours.
2) After 12 hours, allow him to have water but no food.
3) After 12 hours with just water, feed him bland food only like boiled chicken, rice and cottage cheese (the vet gave me some fancy canned food).
4) If the dawg can handle the bland food for 12 hours, you are good to go.
If, as you are going through the process, your dawg's condition worsens, call the vet.
The vet made it sound like this sort of thing just happens with dawgs from time to time as they WILL EAT ANYTHING.
So next time I will know . . .
It works like netflix only with toys for your children.
Sure beats the "let's pick grass" game and the rock and stick toys I had in mind . . .
Just trying to keep it all under budget . . .
Anyway, the logical next shopping list after the "Stuff for Feeding the Critter" list?
Diapering! Oh, be still my beating heart . . .
Diaper Changing pads
Diaper Rash Ointment
4 waterproof pads for changing table
Fingerprints have formed on your baby's tiny fingertips, her veins and organs are clearly visible through her still-thin skin, and her body is starting to catch up with her head - which makes up just a third of her body size now. If you're having a girl, she now has more than 2 million eggs in her ovaries. Your baby is almost 3 inches long (the size of a medium shrimp) and weighs nearly an ounce. As you start your second trimester, most of your baby's critical development will be completed and your odds of miscarriage drop considerably.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
We went out into the yard and played fetch for a while and everything seemed fine.
Later in the evening he started whining and ended up puking three or four times in the yard.
He wouldn't eat any treats we put down for him and he lay on his bed in front of the fireplace and did some shivering.
I sat on the floor next to him and tried to comfort him as best I could.
We spent some time at the dawg park on Monday and as far as I can tell, it looks like he got a case of dawggie flu from one of the other mutts.
I don't even know if there is such a thing but I don't see why not.
He stood up in the middle of the night last night and puked on his bed so we had to get up and do some dealing with that.
It's 4am and I am about to head into the office. The dawg is on his bed next to the computer desk and he seems to be fine.
I tried to google dawg vomit but I couldn't find any info that was helpful. If anyone has any hints on a good dawg-health website, I would be greatful.
The wife will be with him until 8:30am or so this morning and I will come home around 11am to check on him.
So there is that.
The wife is having insomnia - which is wierd because the pregnancy is making her more tired during the day. She just can't sleep at night.
So I googled that. I actually did find some helpful info here. Which I will point the wife to.
Once we add a baby to the mix, the trifecta will be complete.
I can see it all now . . . 3:30am - sitting at the computer in my work clothes, busily searching for answers to questions like "How big a rock is too big? Questions about your dawg's digestive system" followed by "How big a fall is too big? Questions on your baby's cranial development" followed by "How soon is too soon? Questions on having a second child" . . . and so on.
Oi - I gotta get to work . . .
It is another website full of resources for people trying to conceive, people who are expecting and people with children.
Like the What to Expect website, they have an e-mail newsletter syncronized to your baby's development but this one will take you beyond the actual birth and send you e-mails about how your child is developing during it's first year and beyond.
When I was young they had already been
abandoned for years
overgrown with sumac and sour apple,
the iron scrapped, the wood long
gone for other things.
In summer my father would send us along them
to fetch the cows from the back pasture,
a long walk to a far off place it seemed
for boys so young. Lost again for a moment
in that simple place,
I fling apples from a stick and look for snakes
in the gullies. There is
a music to the past, the sweet tones
of perfect octaves
even though we know it was never so.
My father had to sell the farm in that near perfect time
and once old Al Shott killed a six foot rattler on the tracks.
"And when the trolly was running" he said, "you could jump
her as she went by and ride all the way to Cleveland,
and oh," he said, "what a time you could have there."
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Since I have no idea how to post a spreadsheet to this blog, I will share a section at a time with y'all.
Please feel free to comment - especially those of you who have children! I have no idea what I am doing, after all.
Most of these items come from lists I have come across in my reading. I am not even sure what some of the items on these lists are . . .
Today's Excel Shopping List? Stuff for Feeding the Critter!
6 burp cloths
6 newborn bottles
A capital ship for an ocean trip
Was the Walloping Window Blind.
No gale that blew dismayed her crew
Or troubled the captain's mind.
The man at the wheel was taught to feel
Contempt for the wildest blow.
And it often appeared when the weather had cleared
That he'd been in his bunk below.
The boatswain's mate was very sedate,
Yet fond of amusement too;
And he played hopscotch with the starboard watch
While the captain tickled the crew.
And the gunner we had was apparently mad
For he sat on the after-rail,
And fired salutes in the captain's boots
In the teeth of a booming gale.
The captain sat in a commodore's hat
And dined in a royal way
On toasted pigs and pickles and figs
And gummery bread each day.
But the cook was Dutch, and behaved as such,
For the food that he gave the crew
Was a number of tons of hot cross buns
Chopped up with sugar and glue.
We all felt ill as mariners will
On a diet that's cheap and rude,
And the poop deck shook when we dipped the cook
In a tub of his gluesome food.
Then nautical pride we laid aside,
And we cast the vessel ashore
On the Gulliby Isles, where the Poohpooh smiles
And the Anagzanders roar.
Composed of sand was that favored land
And trimmed in cinnamon straws;
And pink and blue was the pleasing hue
Of the Tickletoeteasers claws.
We climbed to the edge of a sandy ledge
And shot at the whistling bee,
Abd the Binnacle-Bats wore water-proof hats
As they danced in the sounding sea.
On rubagub bark, from dawn to dark,
We fed, till we all had grown
Uncommonly shrunk, - when a Chinese junk
Came by from the torriby zone.
She was stubby and square, but we didn't much care,
And we cheerily put to sea.
And we left the crew of the junk to chew
The bark of the rubagub tree.
It's actually pretty cool. You punch in your due date and they send you emails timed to your baby's development.
Here is an excerpt from today's e-mail:
Week 13: Different Growths for Different Folks (and Fetuses)
Your fetus is now about three inches long and the size of a peach. But don't compare your fetus with the fetus next door. Starting about now, babies begin growing at different paces, some faster than others, some more slowly, though they all follow the same developmental path.
Your baby's intestines are also in for some big changes right now. Up till this point, they've been growing in a cavity inside the umbilical cord; but now they're moving to their permanent (and more conveniently located) address, in your baby's abdomen.
Also developing this week: your baby's vocal chords.
The LORD said to him, "Who gave man his mouth? Who makes him deaf or mute? Who gives him sight or makes him blind? Is it not I, the LORD ? Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say."
- Exodus 4:11-12
Monday, February 18, 2008
There is actually a section in the instruction manuel entitled: "Anxiety Over the Baby's Health: I am so afraid that something will be wrong with the baby, I can't even sleep at night."
Not me, no siree, I am the picture of cool-calm and collected.
It's on page 438 of the Third Edition, by the way and it helped me greatly.
For all the rules, lists and excel spreadsheets, it seems to me that so long as your are a relatively normal and healthy person, there is little else to be done to ensure the health of your unborn child.
You're not an alcoholic, you aren't a drug addict, you don't smoke a pack of cigs a day, you are not a linewoman for a professional football team, you basically do your best to eat and live healthy (and now that you know you are pregnant - even more so), What more are you going to do?
It's in God's hands. SO YOU PRAY. YOU PRAY LIKE YOU HAVE NEVER PRAYED BEFORE.
Actually even that isn't true. You know God loves you, you know that he wants the best for you, you know that it is not his desire that your child be stricken with some never-before-seen-disease.
There is little else to be done. Eat right - take it easy. Lay off the sauce and the smokes. Don't play professional football . . .
Provided all the above is true, those who have beautiful, healthy babies probably deserve no more credit for that fact than those same healthy lifestyle people who miscarry at 8 1/2 months (and we know some of those people). It's one of those things we strive to convince ourselves that we have more control over than we really do.
It's life (literally and figuratively) only so much of it is in your control - do your best - hope for the best - pray daily - allow yourself to love that which cannot be seen . . .
Buy bookshelves at antique stores if you can't afford new stuff - put the poisenous cleaning supplies out of reach . . .
You are parents now for pete's sake.
Aaaaand we're back. Blogging in real time folks!
The cold has run it's course and all that is left is a few last vestiges of crud here and there.
The wife is back to working Saturdays so I had the house to myself. I did some general straightening, opened two weeks worth of mail, paid the bills, did the laundry and did some work on the new mantel I am making for the fireplace.
On Sunday we steeled ourselves and made the dreaded but inevitable trip to BABIES R US. It actually wasn't all that bad.
At this point, we aren't going to these stores in search of answers - we are going in search of questions. Since we don't even know what questions we should be asking, we wander up and down the aisles and every now and then stop and say, "Do we need that? I had no idea we would need that."
I have now read through the entire instruction manuel and my Excel spreadsheet is pretty much complete with all the major items - so far as I can tell.
We are beginning to formulate opinons about things - we like this, we don't like that, let's try and limit these . . .etc.
We are also coming to the realization that WE CAN'T AFFORD ALL THIS CRAP! Well, it's important for children to learn how to deal with dissapointment . . . Lesson #1.
Having realized that we can't afford all new furniture, today we are off to antique stores in search of old busted stuff coated with lead paint for the baby's nursery . . .
The wife got me to go into one antique store yesterday and I was pleasantly surprised to learn how inexpensive used book shelves can be.
So its off to Old People's Row today. Hopefully we will be back in time to do some yard work and make some more progress on the mantel.
BECAUSE THERE IS NOTHING A NEWBORN APPRECIATES MORE THAN A SHINY NEW MANTEL OVER THE FIREPLACE.
I came home Valentine's night sicker than I have been in some time. I just couldn't take it any more.
In the past two weeks I started a new job, found out my wife is pregnant, hosted friends for a week, had the first ultrasound where the critter "waved" at me, went to a wedding and worked 13 hour days trying to pry my clients away from the old company. And now the sickness on Valentine's Day. The wheels were coming off my wagon . . .
I came home determined to nuke the illness, eat some Mexican take out and go to bed.
The first thing I did when I got home was take a couple of sleep-aid pills. Because for the love of all that is holy I just need some blessed sleep! *sob*
A chased those two pills with a couple of Benadryl because I was getting whiplash from all the sneezing and if my nose didn't stop running I was going to go the wrestler route and jam a tampon up each nostril.
I cracked open one of the Belgian Style Ales that the wife gave me because it was a holiday afterall and if anyone deserved a beer at this point it was me.
I smothered my burrito in Tobasco in the belief that spicy food helps fight all manner of ailments.
At one point in the evening the wife looked at me and said my whole body had turned bright red.
Hmmm . . maybe sleeping pills and Benandryl followed by mexican food drenched in Tobasco all washed down with a Belgian beer wasn't such a good idea . . . best to have some chocolate ice cream just to be on the safe side . . .
I went to bed and the night terrors began.
Here is my wife's version:
She came to bed and we had the following exchange:
Me: He is the death trap. He is the death trap!
Wife: He is? Who is?
Me: The skinny guy
Wife: The skinny guy?
Me: The arbitrary guy
I have no idea what that was all about - but I do remember my dream . . . there was a classroom of little children sitting on a rug and a small monkey came into the room and started attacking one of the children.
I rushed in and grabbed the monkey by the arm and dragged it out of the room into a near-by bedroom. I flung the monkey into the room and as I did it scurried under the bed but not before turning into some sort of demon monkey with a contorted face that screamed at me (picture Gollum in the Lord of the Rings) I jumped into mid air intending to stomp on the creature with both feet and the whole scene froze a-la The Matrix.
That's when I woke up.
Hoya. I stayed awake for a while after that one . . .
Good thing we have a three-day weekend coming up . . .
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday I was still working 3:45am to 5pm but by Wednesday afternoon, it looked like the worst was over.
About 90% of my clients have decided to switch to the new company with me which is about as good as anyone can hope for. Being at the new company, I have already picked up a couple of new clients as well so it looks like the move will be a successful one.
That's when the sickness hit me.
I don't get sick often but when I do it usually comes on hard and fast and leaves just as quickly - 24 hours of increasing sickness, another 24 hours of full-blown misery, followed by 24 hours of mending. By Wednesday afternoon, I felt like I had the mother of all colds. But tomorrow is Valentine's Day! What to get for the expectant mother?
My new office is near a shopping mall so I thought I would walk the mall in search of ideas. I had a couple of things in mind but I was willing to be persuaded . . .
I ended up buying some flowers (duh), a card addressed to "Mom" and a picture frame that swivels. A photo of us went in one side and I converted the ultrasound of the critter into a photo for the other side. It was a big hit.
The wife bought me a card with a little stressed out cartoon on the front along with Belgian Beer and chocolate ice cream. I could not have been happier.
Actually we both would have been happier if we weren't completely sick. We had Mexican take-out for dinner.
Here is what your 16th Valentine's day looks like when you pick the right woman . . .
The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
His brow was sad; his eye beneath,
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,
And from his lips escaped a groan,
"Try not the Pass!" the old man said:
"Dark lowers the tempest overhead,
The roaring torrent is deep and wide!
And loud that clarion voice replied,
"Oh stay," the maiden said, "and rest
Thy weary head upon this breast!"
A tear stood in his bright blue eye,
But still he answered, with a sigh,
"Beware the pine-tree's withered branch!
Beware the awful avalanche!"
This was the peasant's last Good-night,
A voice replied, far up the height,
At break of day, as heavenward
The pious monks of Saint Bernard
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,
A voice cried through the startled air,
A traveller, by the faithful hound,
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
That banner with the strange device,
There in the twilight cold and gray,
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell, like a falling star,
Sunday, February 17, 2008
I remember when she got really popular.
I remember when she exploded into rock stardom on par with entertainers like Michael Jackson.
But what I most remember is when she had her first child and proclaimed that her life was forever changed because she saw the whole world from a different perspective.
Pathetic. Was my response.
I have long held that making a healthy marriage work over the course of a lifetime has the power to make you a better person. I know the past 15 years have helped me improve so far . . .
I have also held that raising a happy, healthy, well-adjusted child has the ability to make you a better person as well . . .
But I have never been impressed by people who claim to have their whole worldview turned upside-down by the birth of a child.
"You only feel that way because you were such a self-centered insuffrable prig before", has been my typical response.
Well now I am getting a view of life from a different angle . . .
For one, I am noticing that BABIES ARE EVERYWHERE! It's like when you drive off the car lot with that new car of yours and realize that HALF THE PEOPLE ON THE ROAD ARE DRIVING THE EXACT SAME CAR.
They have always been there - you just never identified with them before
The second change I have noticed is a little more consequential.
It goes back to something I heard Dr. James Dobson say over a decade ago. He said that as soon as his first child was born, he began praying for his son's future spouse.
If the wife and I are having a girl, there is a good chance her future husband is alive today - being raised and nurtured by a family doing the best they can with what they have.
If the wife and I are having a boy, there is a good chance that his future in-laws are considering whether or not they are ready to have a baby . . .
And that got me thinking . . . If I am having a daughter, I want to be the standard against which all other men in her life are measured.
The way she sees me treat her mother is the single most important determiner of how she will expect to be treated by future boyfriends and her future husband.
If I am having a son, the way I treat his mother is the model for how he should treat his future girlfriends and his future wife.
I need to be more of a gentleman.
Don't get me wrong, the wife and I have a great relationship based on give and take and mutual respect and all that . . . But I should probably open the car door for her more often. . . .
It's not necessary for me and it's not necessary for the wife but things are a little different when you start living your life as an example for your children.
Maybe that is how we are all supposed to live our lives - as an example for one another. Maybe I have been a "self-centered insuffrable prig".
I don't think I have.
But if my life is going to be lived on stage as an example for my child for the next 50 years or so - I am going to make sure of it.
We spent Saturday night in Oceanside and the spent a lazy Sunday morning chatting over bagels. It may have just been me but it seemed like all we talked about that morning was babies, babies, BABIES! Booo Baby.
I finally grabbed a beer and headed into the backyard to read and play with the dawg in silence. And yes, I had a beer at 10am on a Sunday morning. So sue me. (Hey, I'm drinking for two now . . .)
Eventually we all packed up and grabbed some lunch at a fish house at the beach before it was our sorrowful duty to take our Seattle friends to the airport.
Having dropped them at the ticket counter, the wife and I were truly alone for the first time since discovering we are pregnant.
I suggested that we drive to Target and just browse the baby section. Let's see what we are up against . . .
If you have never had a child, browsing the baby section of Target is like going to a Chinese Supermarket for the first time. Most of what you see makes no sense what-so-ever. Some of the things that look vaguely familiar are, in fact, something completely different from what you think they are and they have the power to possibly KILL YOU if prepared incorrectly.
Of the few things you do recognize, telling the difference between one and the other is utterly impossible. Not to mention that everything is written in CHINESE.
I stood there in mystificusion in the car seat aisle. I know a car seat when I see one. But I had no idea what the difference between one car seat and another was . . . They all looked fairly similar and as I was about to come to the conclusion that it probably didn't make any difference which one we purchased, it occured to me . . .
One of the these car seats is a spring-loaded death trap painted in lead paint and covered with highly combustable fabric that will be recalled exactly one month after your child is born . . . make your move "Big Daddy" your unborn infant's life is hanging in the balance . . .
That's when I started heading for the door . . . .
The wife and I have set a rule that anytime we walk into a baby store, we can buy a maximum of one thing for the baby.
She bought this at Target:
*Warning* Ill-informed all-knowing spewage about to commence in
So about all this baby shopping . . .
For starters, as far as it is in me and the wife's control, our baby will grow up happy, healthy and well adjusted.
Our baby may not have the newest IPod-friendly car seat and matching jogger / stroller / espresso-maker (but it would be nice).
Our baby may not even have the most attractive nursery (at least it would match the rest of our wreck of a house).
And we may not be carrying around the latest in cucumber-soggy-bottom diaper-bags (my wife has a his and hers set picked out).
We may have to wrap our baby in old t-shirts and carry it around over our shoulder with a plastic grocery sack of diapers tied to our wrists.
But come He** or high water, the baby will be clothed, fed, have shelter and two parents who love it not necessarily as the center of their universe but something very close to it.
I have no doubt that the $200 Baby Trend Sienna Expedition LX Jogger Travel System (my personal favorite only because it just looks bitchen AND is IPod-friendly) would be a great help in terms of convenience. But the child will live a happy, healthy, well adjusted life without it.
At some point, all these baby purchases are more about the comfort and convenience of the parents rather than the well-being of the child. Don't get me wrong, I want comfort and convenince for my own sake but there is some relief in knowing that many of these things are wants of the parents and not needs of the child.
There is also some comfort in knowing that we are just about the last in our social circle to have a child and we could probably go the first three years strictly on hand-me-downs from friends, in any case.
I just need to be d**ned sure to pick the right car seat . . . .
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.
Yes. We plan on finding out the sex of the baby at the next Dr. appointment, March 3rd.
And yes, we will let everyone know once we know.
Yes. We already have names picked out. In fact, we settled on baby names years before we ever settled on having a baby.
And no, we aren't telling anyone what the names are (just yet).
Friday morning I was back at the office at 3:45am. After work, the wife and our friends staying with us packed up the Dawg and some belongings and headed to Oceanside. We have a wedding to attend in Orange County on Saturday so we thought we would spend Friday and Saturday night with friends in Oceanside and cut down the driving to and from the wedding.
On Saturday, our Seattle friends wanted to meet up with some family members for lunch in Old Towne Orange before the wedding so we dropped them off at the restaraunt and decided to get some lunch ourselves.
If you have never been to Old Towne Orange, you should really stop by the next time you are in the area. It is like being transported to the set of "It's a Wonderful Life". The whole town square has been preserved the way it looked decades ago.
The wife and I decided to eat outdoors at a place called The Filling Station. The restaraunt actually used to be a gas station and they preserved enough of the "filling station feel" that you recognized what it used to be.
We sat down at a sunny table and heaved great sighs. It had been 7 days since we had discovered we were pregnant but because of my work schedule, our social schedule and house guests, this was the first time the wife and I had some extended time alone to discuss it.
Because the wife's job employs less than 5 people and because she has been with them less than a year, many of the usual maternity rules do not apply. She loves her job and adores her boss and so she resolved to break the news to him when she goes to work on Tuesday.
Over the course of the next seven months or so, she and her boss will put their heads together and come up with a creative solution for maternity leave and beyond that is best for all concerned.
I confessed to my wife that I am in a near state of panic over the health of the baby. Being a father doesn't scare me, raising a child does not intimidate me - it's this period of time during pregnancy that I have little or no control over that is driving me off my nut!
The wife did her best to calm me down and then suggested we go shopping for the baby. When I told her that I didn't want to buy anything for the baby until I was convinced it was ok because I didn't want to "jinx anything" she gave me a look that said "Get a hold of yourself".
We walked around Old Towne Orange and found a baby boutique called Two Little Monkey's.
The wife wanted to buy an armful of soft cuddly things but I stood firm on "one item only". So we bought two.
I have a great many ill-informed opinions on what we should or should not be buying for the baby at this point but that is the subject for another post.
The wedding on Saturday was wonderful. There is nothing like seeing two wonderfully nice people gettin' hitched.
The wife called the Dr. the next day, Wednesday 2/6, turns out they had an opening on Thursday (2/7).
This is THE SAME DOCTOR who told me the day before that they did not have an opening for 5 weeks. Whadda gonna do? So Thursday is the big day.
I worked 3:45am-5pm on Wednesday and went in at 3:45am on Thursday.
Around 1:30, I left the office to pick up the wife and take her to our first doctor's visit. The last time I was in an exam room with a relative was with my mother as a child. Now it was my turn to sit in the chair while my wife sat on the exam table. It was surreal from the outset.
The nurse came in and asked a bunch of questions to which we gave answers. It turns out that we are 11 weeks along - almost through the first trimester. The wife was right about the date of conception but they measure the term of the baby from the first day of the last something-or-other.
Then it was our turn to ask a bunch of questions to which the nurse gave answers. The exchange of information concluded and all "hearts were clear". The nurse left the two of us alone to wait for the Dr.
The wife and I sat there in silence.
According to the instruction manual, most miscarriages occur in the first trimester. Some people even miscarry before they know they are pregnant. If you make it through the first trimester then your chances of miscarriage are greatly reduced.
That means that people who discover they are pregnant right away have to sweat it out through that three month period. On the other hand, they can adjust their diet and activities in an effort to care for the baby.
Here we were, three months along and we had only known we were pregant for the past 5 days. That's when you start thinking about the blue champagne you drank on New Year's Eve and all the other things you would have done differently had you only known . . .
There was a soft tapping on the door and in came the Dr. pushing a portable ultrasound. The big moment had arrived.
Was the pregnancy test accurate? Were we really pregnant? Was the baby ok? Was the baby a smurf the color of blue champagne?
The Dr. switched on the ultrasound and the wife and I stared intently.
The first thing we saw was a tiny heart beating away and we both sighed with relief. Then things came into focus . . .
As an added bonus, the baby was active at the time so we could see it's arms and legs moving. You can barely make out four little light spots in the dark space above the baby's head on the left. That's the fingers of it's hand. The baby was waving it's arm around and it looked as if it was waving at the camera. The Dr. did her best to capture it but this is the best shot we got.
Tears came streaming down my wife's face and I stood there with my hand clasp across my mouth in wonder and amazement.
The doctor did some measurements and confirmed that we were 11 weeks along and that our due date is August 27th.
If the mother is 35 years old or older on the date of delivery, they put you in the "mature mothers" catagory. That means that they want us to see a specialist for an extra fancy ultrasound and some additional blood screening to rule out any abnormalities.
Our next appointment is March 3rd.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
According to the article (written by a single mother), at some point, women need to give up "Prince Charming" and settle for Mr. "I will always be true".
Women, be the judge.
Tuesday I began work at 3:45am and got home around 5:15pm. Not much to say except that I have already read 1/4 way through the "What to Expect When You Are Expecting" book and have started the excel spread sheet on all the things we need to do, decide and buy. Oi.
After work, we met up with friends at a great restaraunt called The Linkery.
On the way to the restaraunt, I explained to our friends that if we ever start going overboard with all the "baby talk" that they need to just tell us to "Shut up" about it. To which a friend in the backseat replied "Boooo Baby". We laughed all night about it.
The Linkery is a restaraunt in North Park that specializes in organic food from local farms. They make their own sausages (Hence, the name) and they have an impressive beer and wine list. I ordered some fancy sausages and played it safe by ordering a beer I have had before:
My Seattle buddy, Sean, ordered a Victory at Sea made by the Ballast Point Brewery.
It tastes like chocolate cake distilled into beer. FANTASTIC!
The restaraunt was shwanky, the food and drink was great, the company wonderful . . . until . . . the conversation turned to the outrage of us not being able to get in to see the Dr. until March 14th.
As it turns out, the wife and I are amongst the last of our social circle to have children. Apparantly, the wife had talked to a number of our friend-mothers who had all expressed shock and horror at us not getting to the Dr. sooner. Occasionally, people at the table would turn and look to me for comment - I had none.
"The receptionist said we didn't have to go in right away", I meekly explained.
I had reached baby overload. The meal being finished, we were just waiting for our check. I left the duty of payment to the wife and excused myself to let the dawg out of the car and stretch his / our legs.
It was resolved that the wife would call the Dr. again the next day and attempt to reschedule.
I am glad we are pregant. Make no mistake. I have always wanted to be a father and if I could pick the perfect mother for my child, it would be my wife. That being said . . . .
I have concerns.
Challenge #1: Save my new job
First off, today begins the mad scramble at work. The boss will get my resignation when he powers up his PC and will begin to immediately farm all my clients out to my competitors. They will all get on the phone and try and convince my clients to abandon me and stick with the old company.
Meanwhile, I need to get on the phone and convince all my clients to follow me to the new company. It's me up against ten of my former co-workers-turned-competitors. That means working 3:45am to 5pm every day this week.
Challenge #2: Figure out the insurance debacle.
I need to contact HR at my old company and get the skinny on exactly when my insurance expires. I need to contact HR at my new company and figure out exactly when my insurance at the new job begins.
I need to figure out what the he** we are going to do in the gap between coverage.
Challenge #3: Get the wife and child to the Dr.
Once I figure out how to pay for it, the wife needs to GET TO THE DOCTOR!
Add to the mix that our dearest Seattle friends are staying with us for a week and you have the recipe for my head spinning 360, popping off and bursting into a fireworks show. If only I wasn't so tired . . .
I called HR at the old place. Turns out, we are covered to the end of February. Sweet! We can at least get one Dr. visit out of the way.
I called HR at my new Co. Turns out, my new coverage starts March 1st and pregnancy is not considered a "pre-existing condition". Sweet LORD in heaven above! We're covered!
I called the wife and gave her the good news. She asked me to call the Dr. and set the appointment.
I called the Dr. and explained the situation; The wife thinks we conceived December 3rd. That would make us 9 weeks along. The soonest the Dr. can see us?
"Now, we have never been pregnant before. This is our first child so I don't know what I am talking about . . . ." I began. "But shouldn't she come in to see you sooner? Isn't it urgent?"
"No", the recepionist said. "You'll be fine"
Who was I to argue?
"Ok, then. See you on the 14th of March."
I called the wife and gave her the news.
"MARCH 14TH!!??" she forcefully replied. "DID YOU TELL THEM I AM PREGNANT??!!"
"Yes", I responded. "The subject did come up."
The rest of the day was a blurr of work-frenzy. Getting set up on the computer, the phone, the scanner, the whosit and whatsit.
I came home whipped.
Day one of the new job and Day 3 of expectant fatherhood. Over.
poetry readings have to be some of the saddest
damned things ever,
the gathering of the clansmen and clanladies,
week after week, month after month, year
getting old together,
reading on to tiny gatherings,
still hoping their genius will be
making tapes together, discs together,
sweating for applause
they read basically to and for
they can't find a New York publisher
but they read on and on
in the poetry holes of America,
never considering the possibility that
their talent might be
thin, almost invisible,
they read on and on
before their mothers, their sisters, their husbands,
their wives, their friends, the other poets
and the handful of idiots who have wandered
I am ashamed for them,
I am ashamed that they have to bolster each other,
I am ashamed for their lisping egos,
their lack of guts.
if these are our creators,
please, please give me something else:
a drunken plumber at a bowling alley,
a prelim boy in a four rounder,
a jock guiding his horse through along the
a bartender on last call,
a waitress pouring me a coffee,
a drunk sleeping in a deserted doorway,
a dog munching a dry bone,
an elephant's fart in a circus tent,
a 6 p.m. freeway crush,
the mailman telling a dirty joke
"A wonderful overnight marinade makes the pork so flavorful - serve with the delicious, creamy mustard sauce. A super dish for buffets and potlucks, as it doesn't need to be piping hot. I never cease to get many recipe requests for this one!"
No, we were not "trying". And by "trying" I mean we were not scheduling romantic evenings by the changing of the tides, the position of the stars or any other "cycles". We did not have special pillows.
After about 12 years of marriage, the wife and I came to the conclusion that, "Yes, we want children - someday". Which was quite a step for us.
After about 15 years of marriage, the wife and I came to the conclusion that the window of opportunity was narrowing but that we were not "ready yet".
So we agreed that we would not "try" to get pregnant but that we would stop "preventing".
Apparantly, this is what not preventing gets you - who knew?
So how do I feel about the pregnancy? Tired. Just tired.
It's obviously diffrent for a man than a woman. For the woman, she begins to feel funny. She feels tired all the time. She feels sort of queasy in the middle. The body starts to get sore in places as it changes. When a woman discovers she is pregant, all the peices start fitting into place. It all begins to make sense.
The man on the other hand, already has all his peices in place (so to speak). Life already makes sense. He isn't feeling any of the changes that the woman feels. And then WHAMO! The wife says she is pregant. This explains nothing for the man. All the pieces of his puzzle are rearranging. Life no longer makes sense.
You find yourself sitting on your couch with your wife who is simultaneously relieved and apprehensive - watching your every movement, your every expression, for some clue as to how you truly feel about this life-altering miracle and all you can think is "not possible - not possible - I wonder what's for dinner - not possible - she's watching me - LOOK HAPPY - not possible . . . "
There is no proof.
You can't see it, hear it, touch it. You just have the word of your wife and a plastic stick with heirogryphics on it that supposedly spell out "Your life has changed forever".
So how do I feel? Tired. And we have a full day ahead. Friends of ours have come down from Seattle to run the Surf City Marathon with friends of ours from Oceanside.
The wife has agreed to drive up to Orange County to babysit and cheer on the runners.
I am headed into the office for my last day.
I kissed my illegedly pregant wife and we parted ways.
The Seattlite's marathon experience is here while the Oceansider's experience is here.
I packed up my office as planned, e-mailed in my resignation, and carted the boxes to the new office. That's when it hit me. As of Monday morning, we will be without health insurance.
When we decided "not to prevent", I maxed out our insurance plans. I maxed out the Life insurance the Accidental Death and Dismemberment insurance (lovely name) the Long Term Disability insurance, the Health insurance - I even got insurance for my insurance through that company with the quacking goose.
As I understand it, if we ever go to the hospital and have to pay a dime out of our pockets, one phone call and the Goose pulls up in an armored car outside the hospital with lights flashing, rushes in with bags of cash and apologizes 1000 times for any inconveninece we have suffered while bowing and scraping as they back out of the hospital room.
At least that's the way the salesperson made it sound . . .
Now it was all for naught. My gold-plated insurance with the old company would expire upon my resignation and the insurance with the new company would not start for another three months at which point the pregancy would be deemed a pre-existing conditon and not be covered.
We. Are. Screwed. (In every sense of the word).
But there's no time to dwell, I need to rush to the store to buy the pregnancy instructions.
After that I headed to Oceanside to meet up with the Marathoners for dinner and our big announcement.
There was hugs and kisses all round and everyone was joyous.
I still don't feel it. I'm so tired . . . .