T.A.D.

Donny a.k.a TAD

The Amazing Donny.

Everyone always says how awesome he is. And he is. Not for the reasons you may think though. Surely, I am not the only woman married to a man who works so that they can stay home/go to school full time. Millions of men are married to women who stay home with the children. Which, I don’t care what anyone says, it’s a job in and of itself. I’m not the only woman married to a man who doesn’t cheat, doesn’t lie (except when he thought he was being slick and smoking), doesn’t hit me, etc. None of this makes Donny special, perhaps the exception to the rule that the divorce rate and TV talk shows tell us, but definitely not a rarity.

It really does bother me when people say, “He’s too good to you.” First of all, who are you to determine what I deserve? Just because you’re a low expectation having son-of-a-bitch for yourself, doesn’t mean you have to hate because I’m not being treated like shit. It’s especially annoying because I have been treated like shit before. So, what? If someone ain’t doing you dirty in some way something ain’t right? Secondly, what the hell is up with our expectations?

That book, “He’s Just Not That Into You,” pissed me off. I thought surely this book is being bought up by a bunch dumbass women in their 20′s. Then the “author” (who looks like that dude Lem on The Shield) was on Oprah and it was women in their 30′s and 40′s eating that shit up. Women who should know better. I don’t know. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I really am smarter than most women or have more common sense. But I can tell you right now I have never, ever, ever, been with the wrong guy and not known he was the wrong guy. I stayed out of loneliness, boredom, or maybe the sex was great. Either way, I knew the difference between someone that was into me and someone that was just happy to be getting into me… if you know what I mean, and I think you do. When a guy is into you, he calls. When he ain’t, he don’t. Simple. I could have told you that shit for free, and I just did.

Ladies who are single and not dating by choice, that’s one thing. But to the ladies who are single and wanting to date or are actively dating, if you have a friend in the similiar situation who says she loooves being single. Stick with her. She must be doing something right. She’s probably meeting men in the right places, following her own rules, not putting up with some bullshit, and above all else she’s probably having fun. The single whiny ones are the ones you need to stay away from. Nothing annoys me more than a woman in her late 20′s/early 30′s whining about some guy not calling. That’s so high school. He ain’t calling? Move the fuck on.

Anyway, that little rant was basically to say that I don’t believe good men are as rare as we think. I think people should take responsibility for their choices like where you choose to meet men. You can’t hook up with a guy after meeting him at the club or screw some guy you were chatting with on the internet for like a week and then wonder why it didn’t go anywhere. I’ve never listened to a friend complain about a relationship and not followed a breadcrumb of clues of my own as she’s talking. God hits us with pebbles before the brick says the girl who found scribbled notes like, “check into child support” and wondered why her fiance was claiming his ex’s children on his taxes long before she married him to later find out he had not one, but two kids with said ex. Responsibility people. If you suspect he ain’t worth shit. He probably ain’t. But back to Donny…

What makes him special is the fact that he’s all of that and a really good person to boot. If I invited any of you to my house he’d make sure that we had the house stocked, it was clean, and you had a comfortable stay. It would actually matter to him. Donny is not the husband that thinks, “That’s your friend, why do I care?” He absolutely cares. My husband goodness isn’t measured by what he does for me, by who he was long before me. Who his Mama raised him to be.

- Donny will not eat so you can.

- He does not hold grudges. Doesn’t believe in going to bed angry. And doesn’t understand bad moods. Not to say he doesn’t get in them, but it’s rare. And he’s big on fixing what’s wrong instead of wallowing in it.

- Donny asks about people on this blog he doesn’t even know. He may not even remember your screenname, but he will ask things like, “Whatever happened with that one girl…” Or he’ll ask about Vixen, who he met once for dinner almost 2 years ago, “Did she have her baby? What did she have?”

- He really believes that everything will be okay and that everything happens for a reason. And while we’re on that subject, I really think that people who think that way are the smartest kind of people. Even if everything doesn’t happen for a reason, even if fucked up shit just happens ’cause life is fucked up, it doesn’t hurt to make the best of situations instead of whining and complaining. Maybe that’s what keeps some of us sane and from killing ourselves. And that little revelation came to me while walking from Goldshire to Westfall in World of Warcraft last night. I was thinking about how we all agreed that it was lucky the kind of semester I was having while pregnant, when really I am making the best of a situation I planned on long before getting pregnant.

- He tells silly, stupid, jokes. Even though he knows they’re dumb. The same stupid, silly, jokes.

“Donny, while you’re in there can you run me a bath?”

“Run it where?”

“Donny, I’m going to jump in the shower.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

- He does the most ridiculous dances for no apparent reason. I even referenced them in my wedding vows. Just all around the house these spastic, convulsing, arm jerking, white-boy moves, that cause me to laugh and shake my head at the same time.

- He has an amazing work ethic.

- In over eight years together I have never caught him checking out another woman. I have. But he hasn’t. I am always the one whispering through clenched teeth, “Turn around. Look at her boobs. They’re huge. Red shirt, red shirt… look, look! She’s walking away! You’re going to miss it!” I’m telling you, I’ve tried to catch him and he just doesn’t do it. Now, that’s not to say he ain’t an oogling fool when I’m not around, but the fact that he won’t do it in my presence… that’s kinda cool.

- When his black employee went through that drama last month it bothered him. Really bothered him. Because he cares about how people are treated.

- He is completely oblivious to his awesomeness. If someone says he’s good looking he just kinda shrugs.

- For someone who had never even had black friends before meeting me he fits right in around my family at every holiday or family get together.

- Little black babies LOVE him. Two of my nephews couldn’t stand me when they were babies. Hated me. Would claw their way out of my arms, survey the room of brown familiar faces, and decide to jump on the only white person in the room. Donny. One of my nephews would literally jump out of my arms into Donny’s and once he got there the tears stopped and he’d look back at me like, “Bitch, I don’t like you.” My friend’s year old daughter wouldn’t have shit to do with me, but sat in Donny’s lap and smiled up at his face all evening. Her eyes would follow him when he left the room.

- He’d rather be home with me than with anyone else. And that includes Armand Assante’s Left Ventricle (Mike) always tryna get my baby to the strip club.

- Before we got engaged, when we were just living in sin, I bought him this foot spa thing for Valentine’s Day because he would come home from work complaining about his feet hurting. He used it for me before he even used it for himself… and then painted my toenails. And I reached for the phone as he did and called my Mom.

“Ma, I’m going to marry this man.”

“What?”

“He’s painting my toenails.”

“Yeah, you need to marry his ass.”

And he just smiled wide flashing those deep dimples.

So, there. I could go on and on. And I probably have. But I wanted to get that out. He doesn’t kick ass because there’s no such thing as good husbands. He kicks ass because he’s a good person first, which just makes him the world’s best husband… who didn’t even blink when I changed my mind about banana pudding and asked for Wendy’s instead. And he walked in the room, handed me the Wendy’s, and then tossed me this book, “The Mocha Manual to a Fabulous Pregnancy.”

“Where’d you get this?,” I asked thinking he’d checked the mail and someone sent it to me.

“I bought it.”

“When?”

“Today on my lunch break.”

Yeah, on his lunch break he’s cruising the pregnancy section of Barnes and Nobles. *sigh*

BIOBaby: Preparation

I realized this morning that I have to start preparing myself for the very real possibility that this baby is a girl. I’ve been calling this baby he/him/Jack/your son/my son/our son/your brother for weeks.

It’s not that I’d be let down. Well, I guess disappointed doesn’t sound right either. It’s just we really want a boy. Really want one. And then the other night I was watching Donny sleep and I started thinking about what an amazing father he is and he’s going to be with this baby. I realized how much our lives have already improved just loving this baby now, and that it’s only going to get better. Then I knew that it really doesn’t matter. As long as he/she makes it here, we’ll be okay.

And really when I had this revelation, I was thinking about the Down’s Syndrome test. A really wonderful woman posted a comment in one of my other BIOBaby blogs about her son born with it and I remember thinking, “I couldn’t be that strong.” And even as Donny told me that if the test was positive he’d still want to have the baby and love the baby, I admit there was a part of me thinking, “You’re a better person than me.” But that night, I realized that it was about the love. That’s what we’ve been given. This opportunity to increase the amount of love going on in this house. All I have to do is take care of myself for this baby for the next six months and put the rest in God’s hands.

Where some people may think of having children in terms of inconveniece, lifestyle changes, and financial burden, I know the real truth. Some women can’t find a decent man, much less a great one. I got one. Some women can’t have children, or again find a man they’d want to procreate with, and I have Kali. And on top of it all God decided that our hearts and home are ready for another person to love and love us. And I am damn lucky. And grateful.

So, sorry Frogger, but I have to disagree. I could cure cancer tomorrow, but at the end of my life, the best thing I could have ever done FOR ME, was have this love in my life. Because at the end of your life, who the hell cares how many degrees you have, how much you’ve traveled, who you dated, how many shoes you owned, how you made your money, etc.? Those things are nice, but I have to believe that there’s something more. And I think there is. And I’ve got a taste of it already.

I’m looking forward to all the laughter this baby is going to bring. Those of you that have had children in your life know what I mean. Babies discovering the world … a wonderful thing to witness. I’m looking forward to watching Donny be a Dad to a baby. He wants this so much. A few nights ago we were talking about it and he admitted that he’s never held a newborn baby or really been around one. Huh?

“Oh, Donny then you don’t know about newborn baby smell?!”

“Nope.”

“It’s the best thing in the world! It’s like… like… cake! Yes, like a baby cakey goodness. Except you don’t want to eat them. You just want to kiss them and hold them and nuzzle them all the time.”

He didn’t make fun of me like he usually does. He just smiled and looked straight ahead and I could tell he was imagining holding and nuzzling our baby. So, yeah, I don’t care what anyone says, this is awesome. Boy or girl, we are lucky and blessed. And I say this after being hit with a wave of nausea last night that would have knocked an elephant on it’s ass.

P.S. My boobs hurt. They are big and round and full. Saturday night, we had just gotten into bed, and  I asked Donny to reach under my shirt and unhook my bra.

“Ok, now pull it off.” He does.

“Now, just cup my breasts please.”

And we laid like that for awhile. Him spooning me with his hands reached around cupping my boobies.Why did I ask him to do that? Because the moment I remove my bra it’s like they just radiate energy. They get all tingly and stuff. It’s like the bra is confining the flow of whatever is going on in there and when it’s removed, the girls just sing. Having them held felt nice.

“You can let them go now. Thanks.”

“Anytime. Any. Time.”

BIOBaby: Week 12 and Baby Etiquette

Week 12 a.k.a second trimester. Holla!

I haven’t felt kicking yet, still too early, but definitely movement. They are usually really quick flutters. This morning I was lying on my back, rubbing my belly with both hands, and as soon as I stopped I felt a little jump in that lower left side. Either he was just waking up or telling me he liked the rubbing. Or maybe he was thanking me for stopping? Either way it was sudden, a surprise, and a little scary.  Donny is a little jealous that it’s not movement he can feel… yet.

We’re going in for the early Down’s Syndrome test on February 5th. It has to be done between now and Feb. 13th, and I tried scheduling it for the 13th since Kali has early release day then and would get to come with us and see the baby (it’s a regular, not vaginal ultrasound), but they didn’t want to schedule it at the cut-off date.  So, it looks like she’ll be taking off a day of school to go with us to our 20 week ultrasound. At about that same time we’re going to schedule the 3D/4D ultrasound. If I can, I’m going to try and find out the sex on the 5th. I’ll only be 13 1/2 weeks then, but maybe, just maybe, they’ll be able to tell.

The other night Donny and I were settling in for bed and I asked him if he thought about the baby that day. He said of course, and that he was in Walmart and noticed a young father with a small newborn and thought, “That will be me soon.” And I thought about this…

“You ain’t taking my baby to no Walmart. This baby ain’t got no reason to be up in Walmart.”

Then I shared with Donny yet another stereotype black people believed of white people when I was growing up: white women will take their newborns out entirely too early. I remember whenever my Mom had a baby, or anyone in our neighborhood or family, the baby didn’t leave the house (save doctor visits) for the first six weeks. If that. If you were family, and wanted to see the baby, you knew to wait at least a week to give the family privacy and then you came to see the baby. Don’t even ask the new Mom to come and visit you.

My mother, and others, would talk about white girls at work bringing their two and three weeks old babies into the office to show everyone. As I got older, and started working myself, I noticed this was true!  And white women, let me tell you now, if you’ve done it the black women on your job talked about your ass as soon as you left. Anytime I’ve worked with a black woman that’s had a baby you won’t see that baby until her maternity leave is up… and then it’s a picture. But the white women? They could have their baby on Sunday the 1st and be in the office on Monday the 16th passing that baby around like a joint. At this point Donny is laughing his ass off because a white girl that works for him is on maternity leave now and he said she came bopping into Home Depot two weeks after having the baby showing it off.

So, it seemed like a good time to fill him in on some Nina (as raised by black women) baby rules.

1. I don’t want the whole (my last name/his last name) family at the hospital. There’s no need. I don’t want to see people and the baby will look the same on day one as it will on day four… at home. And that’s only for immediate folk.  The only people I want in the room are Donny and one other person (preferably my Mommy) because we plan on videotaping the birth. Emotionally, I would love for Kali to be there (just because she’s part of our little family of four and I think it would be special), but I don’t know how she would feel about it and I don’t want to freak her out or scar her for life from having children… then again, if it scares a few years onto her holding on to her virginity…

2. I don’t want people touching my baby’s face and hands. Why do people do that?! Germs, people, germs. New immune system. Babies love to put their hands in their mouths and faces. I don’t want whatever the fuck is growing under your nails on my baby’s face or in his mouth. Neck nuzzling and hugging, however, are fine.

As an extension, God help the first person that rubs my belly. Why do women do that? Just walk up to women they don’t know and start rubbing their belly? “When are you due?” “Who are you and why are you touching me?” I hurt many feelings when pregnant with Kali and I will do it again.  Just because I’m having a baby, my baby, doesn’t give you an open invitation to grope me. You don’t go up to women with breast cancer and start massaging their tits asking, “How’s it going? You feeling okay?”

3) Inappropriate comments will be met with scorn and humiliation. It’s kinda like the name thing. I never cringe or make fucked up comments when I hear what people are naming their soon-to-be born babies. Never. It’s fucking rude. You’re talking about someone’s child. The next person that says something negative about Jack is getting cussed out. Period. Then I want to know, “Why the fuck did your Mama name you (insert name here)?”  Here are some appropriate responses if you don’t like a person’s baby name choices.

If it’s unusual/weird/ugly…

“Oh, that’s unique? Why (insert name)?”

Listen to explanation.

“Cool” or “Nice.”

And then leave it alone.

If it’s common, but maybe not YOUR first choice then I suggest you have your own fucking children and name them whatever the hell YOU like. OR you could respond…

“Jack? I don’t know many of those. Why Jack?”

Listen to explanation.

“Cool” or “Nice.”

And leave that shit alone.

The same goes for comments about the baby after he’s born. I think because people expect babies to be all wrinkly and old-man like, that they think it’s okay to say the rudest shit. Uh, no. If it wasn’t your sperm or your uterus doing all the work, shut the fuck up! When Kali was born, she was perfect. And I’m not just saying that. I’d post the video if I could. She was pink and non-wrinkly with my upturned top lip and dark blue eyes and jet black hair that cradled her head like a thick cap. She was a few hours old when Sophie said, “She’s so beautiful and I mean it. You know how all newborns kinda look alike? She doesn’t even look like a newborn. She’s beautiful”

Now, I’m not saying you have to gush, but don’t say shit like (and these are actual things I’ve witnessed said about a baby),

“Oh, look at his funny little face.”

“I thought she’d have more hair.”

“Aww, his nose is the biggest thing on him.”

If anyone says anything remotely inappropriate about my baby I’m going to promptly turn to them, and starting from their head and going all the way down to their shoes, I’m going to point out every unfortunate feature and flaw. Then I’ll ask, “You had years to grow into your looks, so what happened?” I don’t play that shit. And if I’m feeling particularly nasty, I’ll then point out everything wrong in their life and ask that they worry about fixing that shit before they start passing judgment on an innocent baby.

4) Needless to say the first person to kiss my newborn in the mouth, that’s not me or Donny or Kali, is getting punched in the mouth.

BIOBaby: Getting More Excited

Now that I’m slowly leaving the “Oh, God! This baby is trying to kill me from the inside out” phase, I’m starting to get very excited.

1) I love my baby bump. I walk around holding it all the time. Donny rubs it at night and when he comes in from work he kisses me, then my belly and asks, “How are my babies?” When Kali leaves for school each morning we always tell each other I love you and I always tell her to have a good day. Now she says, “I love you, Mommy. I love you too, baby.” I can honestly say that I’m the luckiest, most blessed woman in the world. I’ve never felt this much love before. From the inside out.

2) Nursery! Now that I actually have energy again I’m all ready to go in that guest room and rearrange it. I was going to wait until May when the semester ends, but I don’t know if I can.  Gavin and Logan’s Mommy asked about nursery ideas. I wanted to do a gender neutral color like green, but this is when I assumed we wouldn’t be finding out the sex. Now that Donny is downright insisting on it I’m wondering if I might go yellow and white for a girl (but Kali’s room is already painted yellow) or some shade of blue with brown accents for a boy. Arrrgh! For years I thought we’d install a chair rail in the room once we were expecting, but now I’m second guessing. Decisions, decisions, but I love every last minute of it!

I’m not crazy about the dresser, but I love the feel of this room. I’m definitely going to go with desk lamps and not use the overhead lighting. Also, we’re not going to do a “theme.” Kali had Pooh when she was a baby, but I think this time I just want lots of stuffed animals and a full bookcase. No Elmo, Sesame Street, Barney, or any of that other brand crap.

3) Did you know that it’s considered tacky to have more than one baby shower? Meaning, if you have more than one child you’re only supposed to have one for the first baby.  The people who feel this way say that it’s because it’s like the parents-to-be are asking for more free stuff. I think it’s ridiculous. What about people like Donny who never got to experience this? Besides, my father hates when I say stuff like this, but Donny and I have already budgeted to buy all the major stuff ourselves: nursery furniture, car seat, bassinet, stroller, etc.  If someone buys any of that stuff at the shower, great, but if not, we won’t be in dire straits wondering how we’re going to provide for our baby. I think every baby should be celebrated with family and friends.

Speaking of showers… when do you have one?  A month before the baby is due? Two? My mom said anytime once you’re halfway through your second trimester. And speaking of Mommy, I just stopped writing this blog to call her and guilt her into to coming to see me.

“I need my Mommy.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

“I know. Just come on! I’m pregnant and I need you. And bring Grandma too.”

“I’m not. I see your Grandmother every day. I need a break from her.”

“She could drop dead any day now. You better bring my Grandmother to see me.”

“I ain’t.”

“If something happens to her you’re going to feel like shit for denying me the opportunity to see her.”

“No, I ain’t.”

“Yes, you will. Because I’ll make you feel like shit.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“I know.”

4) Donny and I are obsessed with seeing this baby. We admitted yesterday that after seeing him waving and wiggling on the screen yesterday it’s all we could think about. Last night as we were settling in for bed I noticed the sonogram picture was between us.

“Donny, why’d you leave the baby picture there for it to get all smushed?”

“Because he’s sleeping with us.”

“Nice save, Donny. Nice save.”

And you know what? We did sleep with the picture between us.

And finally, I’m so looking forward to breastfeeding again. I know I’ve heard a lot of women complain about how hard it is, but if you can get past the first week or so, it’s a breeze!  Even though I’ve done it before, I do find myself wondering how I’m going to manage this time. I was taking a bath the other day with the door open and Donny and I were talking while he sat on the bed.
“Did you know that when you breast feed you have to put as much of the aerola into the baby’s mouth as possible? Not just the nipple.  Look at how huge my boobs are already! Look at my aerolas! I’m going to choke the poor baby.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

“Fuck you, Donny.”

I remember the rough patches when nursing Kali; like when she got Thrush or when she would sleep so long my boobs will fill up so much they’d ache. When she would finally wake up trying to squeeze together the areola and nipple was a challenge. It’s like trying to get some slack from the side of a balloon that’s filled with water. But those first few moments when she’d latch on and start to release some of the pressure were heaven!

And nothing beats that tummy to tummy contact. That bonding time. The sound of your child suckling and receiving nourishment for your body. How wonderful it feels when they’re nursing with their little eyes closed and they place their tiny little hand on your breast.  I remember times when Kali would let go without me noticing and I’d look down to find that she had fallen asleep, but my milk was silently spurting out onto her face. I didn’t know whether to laugh or turn myself in to social services. The funniest had to be the times when she’d suddenly let go and the milk would just go shooting across the room.

Donny and I discussed me nursing all day and pumping one bottle per day so that he could feed the baby at night, but we want to make sure the baby prefers the breast as his first choice so that plan may wait until he’s a few months old. I plan on breastfeeding this baby until he’s at least 18 months. Maybe a bit longer. I’m so excited about breastfeeding I even dream about it.

In my dream, the baby was a boy and I had nursed him with my left breast before he took a nap. When he awoke hungry, forgetting which breast I had nursed him from before, I tried feeding him from the empty left breast again. He calmly spit the nipple out and said (at like a month old, mind you), “No. No.” I laughed, apologized, and switched breasts.

Yeah, I’m definitely getting excited.

BIOBaby: Heartbeat

Donny, Kali, and I were able to hear the baby’s heartbeat for the first time yesterday. Thanks to Gavin and Logan’s Mommy. She sent me a fetal doppler and it arrived yesterday.

Funny when things happen. Yesterday, I’d actually had a pretty good day. No sickness at all. At one point in the afternoon I told Donny that I couldn’t wait to feel the baby move around because then it would be confirmation that he’s in there and alive. When I’m just sitting around drinking grape juice and playing The Sims 2 with no sickness, it’s kinda easy to forget you’re pregnant. And that’s scary.

An hour later the doorbell rang and it was the post woman with a priority mail package. I was expecting the doppler and we wasted no time in using it. We found the heartbeat fairly quickly and took turns listening. It really did put my mind at ease and of course I cried. We had another quick listen before bed and not only did I sleep better than I had in weeks, but the little guy actually let me sleep til… wait for it… 6am! A very nice improvement over my previous 3am and 4am risings.

Currently, we are watching Rob Zombie’s Halloween. I love the original (my favorite horror movie followed closely by Psycho), and have been dying to see this movie. So far, so good. Donny paused it though to go make me a Nathan’s hot dog (the best hot dogs in the world.. seriously, stop fucking around w/ those Oscar Meyer weiners) with sauerkraut and mustard. Hey, I know it’s 9:20am, but the baby has no concept of time.

BIOBaby: Timeline

I’ve decided to approach this pregnancy the way I approached weight loss. Small goals, one at at time. Five pounds here, fitting a pair of jeans you hadn’t worn in years there, and the next thing you know you’re down 20lbs.

I thought, because that’s what my husband told me, that I had a doctor’s appointment tomorrow and that we’d get to see our baby again and hear his little heartbeat, but nooooo, I called to confirm yesterday and it turns out my appointment is next week Tuesday. Talk about being majorly disappointed. But it did give me more time to get on the horn and request my medical records from my doctors in Maine (where I started my pregnancy with Kali) and North Carolina (where she was born.)

While digging through old baby stuff and unearthing the day planner I used back then (yup, I still have it.) I found some stuff that I hadn’t thought about in years. One was Kali’s baby book which has allowed me to come up with a tentative timeline for when I can expect certain things in this pregnancy.

I’m 9-10 weeks now.

- In one week, and especially since I go to the doctor then, we can actually hear the heartbeat for the first time. (I heard Kali’s at 11 weeks.)

- About a month after that (between Feb. 25th-29th) I should begin to feel the baby move! That’s one thing I’m really looking forward to.

- March 28th I’ll be 20 weeks. Halfway there!!

- Around May 1st or so (25-26 weeks) I’ll should be able to see the baby moving around. That’s always kinda weird to see, but great to feel.

I’ll think of other little milestones along the way and hopefully next week I’ll actually remember to request a sonogram picture so I can share it with you guys.

I also found some other interesting things I’d forgotten about in Kali’s baby book. Like:

- Cravings when pregnant with Kali: ravioli, shrimp, McDonald’s french fries, Taco Bell Steak Gorditas Supreme

- I was in labor for exactly 26 hours and 11 minutes. 23 hours w/o pain medication.

- Kali was 6lbs and 13oz. She was 20 3/4 inches long and she had dark blue eyes and LOTS of jet black hair.

- If Kali had been a boy her name was going to be Max.

- When Kali was born Bill Clinton was President, Michael Jordan retired for the first time, Dr. Kavorkian was sentenced for “assisted” suicides and gas was $1.51 per gallon.

- By the time she was one month old (exactly) she already weighed 9lbs and 8 oz.

- She slept through the night at exactly six weeks. (Thank you, Jesus!)

- She smiled for the first time at 4 days old. Laughed at 2 months old. Rolled over at 3 months. First tooth at 4 months (while still breastfeeding.) Crawled at 7 months. Spoke her first word (Mama) at 7 months. Waved “bye bye” at 7 months. Patty cake at 8 months. Stood unassisted at 10 months old. Took her first steps on April 8th, 2000 (just four days before her first birthday) and was full on walking on April 9th.

Things like that, ladies and gents, that make me feel all excited about doing it again. I’m off to do more schoolwork. I got a crapload done this morning and I’m catching my second wind.

BIOBaby: Sympathy Pains

It probably doesn’t come as a surprise to learn that someone as wonderful as Donny would be one of those rare husbands that experiences sympathy pains during his wife’s pregnancy. Yet, I was still very much surprised.

Saturday night I had another “moment.” It started as it usually does: thinking of the good stuff. Imagining having the baby home and watching him with Donny and Kali. This inevitably leads to thinking about how far off August is and how so many things can go wrong. Then I started thinking about a manager who worked with me at IBM after I’d gone back to work shortly after having Kali. Her name was Janet and she was awesome. I wasn’t her assistant, but she was a manager in the same department as the people I supported. I was thinking about finally logging into my AIM account and sending her an IM letting her know I was thining about her. But then I realized that as soon as I revealed I was pregnant she would know why she’d suddenly popped into my head after so many years. Her baby died.

She was really far into her pregnancy. So far, in fact, that when I got the email from one of my managers with Janet’s name in the subject I assumed that it was to announce her baby. Instead, while she was sleeping, the baby had become wrapped in the umbilical and choked to death. And to make it worse, she had to then deliver a stillborn baby. And this was all I could think about that night.

“Nina, you can’t think like that.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Everything is going to be okay.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I just feel it. I feel like I have a connection to you.”

I had to get an explanation on that one. Apparently when I was peeing a lot, so was he. If my stomach was bothering me, his did too. If I have a headache, he gets one.

“You never told me that.”

“Because it’s not about me.”

Awww. Now, if we can just get him to feel what I feel and then me not feel it anymore…

Yesterday, I had my first cliche craving. Pickles. Donny was downstairs working on the computer and I called him up.

“I want a pickle.”

“I don’t think we have any.”

“Well, I want a pickle. And a glass of ice with bottled water.”

So, he returns a few minutes later with a pickle on a paper towel and my water. Turns out we did have pickles. I took one bite and…

“I’m going to need more than this.”

“You want the whole jar?”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

Next he brought me four slices of pickles on a saucer. They were the best pickles ever. Some other recent cravings: chocolate milkshakes from McDonald’s, carrots, ice water, toasted plain bagel with butter and jelly, plums.

When I get in my emotional moods and start worrying about losing the baby Donny will start talking to me about his feelings of excitement and all the wonderful things that are going to change once the baby is here. It really helps. The other day we were discussing, as we often do, what the baby will look like.

“I hope he has your dimples.”

“Do you know how you get a baby with dimples?”

“How?”

“You have lots of sex.”

“That is the rudest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re disgusting.”

“That’s what people say.”

“Well, don’t tell me that. I’m gonna throw up.”

BIOBaby: The Handjob Comeback

Screw Clinton and McCain, the handjob is the official comeback kid.

If you’ve ever had a baby, you know about the dreams. You all may have heard that pregnant women have very weird and vivid dreams. It’s true. I’ve had the most bizarre dreams ever over the past few weeks. Cavorting with celebrities, working in a bar with El Supremo, and blowing an ex-boyfriend. I know! What the fuck, right? After two very vivid sexual dreams that didn’t involve Donny I had a talk with my unborn child.

“Um, I know you’re not wise to the ways of the world yet, and it’s not that I don’t appreciate the excitement… ’cause I do. But something about dreaming about the down and dirty with someone other than your father right now just makes me feel icky and whorish.”

And voila! Just like that I started having explicit sexual dreams about Donny. At least three a week for the past three weeks. Unfortunately for Donny, when these dreams wake me up I just pull him close and take my ass back to sleep. This morning a particularly dirty one awoke me at 5:30am. I decided to have mercy on my poor, overworked, deprived husband. And it hit me what I could do: handjob!

Ladies, the forgotten handjob is your best friend. Let’s face it, marriage can get kinda blah sometimes. And sometimes we forget about those little naughty things we used to do. You know, the things we did when we were dating them and trying to get them to marry us. You know, the dirty filth stuff and words you only break out on his birthday and Valentine’s Day.

Typical married conversations (and it could be either one of us talking):

“What do you want to do for dinner?”
“I don’t know. What do you want?”
“I don’t know. Pizza?”
“That’s fine.”

“Did you pay the garbage bill?”
“No, I thought you did.”
“No. When is it due?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I’ll do it now.”

“Did you check the mail?”
“No, I thought you did.”
“I’ll check it now.”

“What’s that smell?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you take out the trash?”
“No.”
“Do it now.”

Ok, you can probably guess who said what in that last convo. Anyway, handjobs breathe new life into marriage.

I’m sure he thought he was dreaming at the start, but quickly got with the program. I expected that to give him a nice boost to his day. Add a little pep in his step on this lovely Friday. All he wanted to do afterwards was cuddle and watch the morning news. As he spooned me I said, “I dream about sex with you almost every night. I’m just not ready yet.”

“It’s okay. You’re worth the wait.”

Now before all you girls go “awwwing” and reiterating my husband’s title as Best Husband Ever, remember: he just got a dirty girl handjob. He’s happy as R. Kelly at a Girl’s Scout meeting.

I bet you won’t get this kinda insight on those pregnant mommy boards.

BIOBaby: Women Are Nuts

Last week, during a brief moment of lucidity, I called my sister to get her advice. She had suffered through 14-16 weeks of horrible all day sickness when pregnant with my nephew in 2006. I needed to know that I wasn’t alone in feeling so much misery and resentment. Not only did she totally relate to what I was going through, but she also recommended that I check out the message boards of a baby site she’d told me about a few weeks prior. I’d been using the site to read my pregnancy calendar and establish a daily pregnancy meal plan, but hadn’t given the message boards a second thought.

Since it seems I’ve passed a major hump in my morning sickness I decided yesterday to check out the message boards. I only went to the board for women due in August of ’08. It’s called the Mommy August ’08 Club or some such shit. I liked the idea that I’d be talking to women in the same stages of pregnancy as I. And because we are all between 7-9 weeks and most likely all found out we were pregnant 3-4 weeks ago, I made sure to read all the postings for the past four weeks. I came to two conclusions….

1. These women are liars.
2. These women are fucking nuts.

First of all, not one of them admitted to feeling miserable, resentful, or even regretful at being pregnant. Not one. Now maybe it’s just me, but I fucking doubt it. They were going on and on describing symptoms way worse than mine. I’m talking 2-3 days being hospitalized and shit and at the end of each post it was, “Well, it’s all going to be worth it in the end.” And, “God gave me this miracle so who am I to complain…”

Excuse me?  Let me get this straight: Women are supposed to be strong enough to endure pregnancy and childbirth, but not allowed to complain when say… it fucking hurts?!  I thought maybe they were all just pussies so I started a thread detailing my misery and how there were times I didn’t feel connected to the baby and how instead of feeling like I was carrying a little miracle, I felt like I had some kind of virus sucking the life out of me. And do you know what these bitches did? They COMPLETELY talked around all that and just regurgitated the same advice for getting through morning sickness.

I know all the tricks! I’ve done them! They ain’t working. I will say that I’ve yet to fill the Zofran prescription even though we have our insurance cards now. I’m just really weird about taking medication especially when I’m pregnant. It killed me to take the other pills that knocked me out. I know they say they’re safe for the baby, but you guys know I think I’m special and I don’t wnat to be that one case where my baby boy is born with fins because Mommy was a punk-ass bitch.

So, yeah… those women are liars. And they’re also fucking nuts. Why are they fucking nuts? The site has this little pregnancy time line thing that appears at the bottom of your posts. It just shows how many weeks/days you are into your pregnancy. You can also include a signature that appears with each post and it seems some women want you to know EVERYTHING.  This signature is pretty popular.

EDD: 8/2/08

That’s the estimated delivery date. Then some go even further. They will put the estimated delivery date based on their last period and their examinations. So, remember how I said according to my period I’m due 8/15, but according to the size of the baby and my uterus I’m actually due earlier? Mine might look like this:

EDD based on examination: 8/11/08
EDD based on LMP: 8/15/08

It doesn’t stop there. Some women feel the need to tell you about the kids they already have. Mine would be.

EDD based on examination: 8/11/08
EDD based on LMP: 8/15/08
Kali Ryan born: 4/12/99

And then, and I wish I were kidding. They will tell you about the babies they didn’t have…

EDD based on examination: 8/11/08
EDD based on LMP: 8/15/08
Kali Ryan born 4/12/99
Miscarriage: 2/12/98, 5/15/00

Why I gotta know all that? It just makes me really uncomfortable. Am I evil? So, now I’m all fucking addicted to going to these boards. I take study breaks to refresh the boards and see what they’re talking about. And as much as I hate the signatures, I’m fascinated with reading them! And trying to figure out what the fucking abbreviations mean! Like this…

DD 1 3/15/96
DD 2 8/2/06

OMG IT’S A BFP! After 10 months of TTC! Crossing fingers for a boy this time around!

I have no idea what DDs, BFPs or TTCs are.

I’m so confused!!

m/c 10/13/07 at 6w – We miss you

Pg again with 1 after m/c
Clomid 50mg cycle 1
BFP 12/7/07, EDD 8/17/08
12dpo hCG: 40, progesterone: 66.9
15dpo hCG: 204, doubling time: 30.5 hours
22dpo hCG: 2,312, doubling time: 48.0 hours
1st OB appointment / 2nd ultrasound: HR 122 bpm

What the shit?

Then, this morning this lady came into the August ’08 boards and posted this:

Hey ladies, hope you dont mind me reading your August board even though I dont really belong here. I sometimes miss the begining of pregnancy (despite the paranoia and occasional morning sickness). Congrats to all of you and I wish you a happy, healthy and easy pregnancy!

Then I noticed her timeline:

She was due in 10 days!!

Bitch, leave! You don’t belong here! We’re all in the suffering stages. You’re all ready to pop and shit. I bet your nursery is complete and you have clothes and shit picked out to bring the baby home in. I can’t even THINK of the nursery right now ’cause I’m too busy puking up my intestines. Bitch.

But my favorite, favorite, favorite, was the lady who had this as her signature:

Kayla Marie born 8/20/07
EDD: 8/12/08

I’ll give you a minute to do the math.

That’s right. She got pregnant three months after having a baby. Ok, let me let all you no baby having women in on another Ugly Truth. After you have a baby they tell you no sex, no baths, no tampons, for six weeks. But even after six weeks, you still really don’t want anyone… for lack of a better term, all up in there. Seriously, my uterus aches just thinking about it. Nevermind the fact that your shit has stretched to accommodate the passage of a tiny human and needs time to heal and recuperate. But let’s talk about the blood.

You will bleed so much after delivery you will be amazed you are still alive. It is NOTHING like having your period. NOTHING. First of all, they give you these Maxi-Pads in the hospital to take home and they really need to be called Mega-Pads. They’re like some sanitary napkin adult diaper hybrid from hell. And this blood isn’t like having your period. For one, when you have your period there is little to no odor to that blood. And if you heifers act like you’ve never sniffed your own tampon I will punch you in the face. But after you have a baby, and you’re bleeding, it stinks! To high fucking heaven, it stinks. I remember nursing Kali and sniffing the air like, “What the hell is that?” I soon realized the offending odor was coming from my crotch. I wanted to remove my vagina and put it in the Diaper Genie.

And it’s just because it’s blood. And blood, in abundance, stinks.

Now, one last baby related thing to share today. This morning I had my first honest-to-Goodness- so strong that honey, you have to get up now and get it for me craving. Last night I wanted lasagna, garlic bread, and salad with Italian dressing for dinner. That wasn’t so bad because Donny was going out anyway to pick up dinner. The only real challenge was finding a place nearby that sold that kind of food. In my mind’s eye I saw the lasagna in one of those round aluminum bowls where you have to unfold the crinkled edges from around the cardboard top to get at the food. And that’s exactly what he got. Complete with garlic bread in foil and a plastic container of a garden salad.

However, this morning at 5am, Donny had no plans of doing anything other than getting another 90 minutes of sleep. The baby and I had other plans for him. I awoke at 5am, reached over for a pen and paper and wrote out the following list:

Grape Fanta
Fruit Cups
Lays ruffled chips
Sarah Lee Pound Cake
Clementine oranges
Frosted Cherry Pop Tarts

Then I shook him awake and handed him the list. “You need to go get this.”

“Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

And bless his heart, he did. Of course, while he was gone at the 24 hour Super Wal-Mart I had all kinds of thoughts of him getting mugged and murdered and how guilty I would feel that he never got to see his child born. It inspired a creepy short story which I banged out three paragraphs of while he was gone. Not only did he come home with what I asked for, but he also got me Raspberry Lemonade Tea from Starbucks. Yum!  Well, he didn’t get the pound cake ’cause he didn’t know where to look. My husband has to be the only person alive that’s never heard of a Sarah Lee pound cake. And he said the chips caused him some confusion because apparently there are Lays chips and there are Ruffles. Who knew? Apparently, not me. But he guessed right in that I meant Lays Wavy chips.
Oh, one last thing… I promise. As we were in bed, him sipping his coffee and me munching on my Pop Tarts and sipping my raspberry tea, we got on the subject of the baby names. I thought we had pretty much decided:

Jack Ian or Isabelle Sophia

He seemed to give some resistance to the girl name.

“I thought you liked it!”

“I do. It’s just that it sounds… sounds… foreign.”

“Foreign?! This from the man who is going to saddle the poor child with a hard to pronounce, hard to spell, no one ever gets it right (even our family!), German last name?!”

Reason Number 453 this has to be a boy. Reason Number 1? I really don’t want to go through this again.