Carbonite Punch

Because I am a high-risk pregnancy, I get a lot of attention. And, I have a lot of appointments. I don't know what what is a "normal" schedule for soon-to-be Mommas, but if I haven't been to the doctor in ten days, I double check the schedule to see if I missed something. I already know that my brain is shrinking--up to 8 percent according to neuro-imaging studies, so I try to be proactive. (Thank goodness, the studies also show that my brain will return to its normal size after delivery--apparently it could take up to six months, though!) I'm proud to report that I haven't missed an appointment, nor have I forgotten a child's homework--much to their chagrin. (Being a teacher is good groundwork for parenting, but that could be the topic of a later post...)
A couple weeks ago, I had a Level 2 ultrasound. I had no clue what that meant except that it would be more thorough than any of the other ones I had already. Apparently, a Level 2 is only given to women who are high risk--basically, the medical team checks to see if everything that is supposed to be there is there. It's a full anatomical inventory, really. The technician snapped images of every organ from the brain to the kidneys--and toes, too! We spent a long time watching the heart; she zoomed in so we could look at each chamber pump away. She flipped the view on the screen and we could look at blue and red blood flow to determine if everything was coming and going as it ought to be. (We watched my/our umbilical cord's blood flow, too.) Anyone who's interested in anatomy or science or human life would be fascinated by what I was seeing on the flat screen monitor.
She measured the brain, the fluid in the brain, the spinal cord, the fluid around the spinal cord. Everything. We looked at the stomach, the lungs, the kidneys--it was all intriguing. At one point, the technician said, "you have a very active little baby in there" because it did not want to stay still to have all of these photos taken. 
She even said, "C'mon little pumpkin. Can I just see your right kidney? Just for a little bit?" Made me smile. 
(Two years from now, behavior like this won't be very cute. But now, be as stubborn as you like, child. Enjoy it while it lasts.)


Turns out, all the measurements are in the "normal range". The babe weighed in 1.5 ounces heavier than the online trackers say and the head measured a week ahead of schedule. Sweet Jesus. Help us all.
The other cool thing about the Level 2 ultrasound is that the technician has the option to see 3-D images of the baby. Before she showed me the 3-D version, we talked about how I thought those pictures were sooooo creepy. Because they use sound to create the image, sometimes the machine can't get a super clear picture--at least that's what I had noticed when I googled it. The images can look distorted and surreal. And, a little like this:

An image of our baby captured in carbonite.

But, I saw the wee one in action. I was looking at it face-on; the umbilical cord was in the foreground and the head was in the background. Here's (essentially) what I saw happening somewhere inside my body:

Apparently, all the kickboxing lessons I had taken in my lifetime paid off in spades. No need for self-defense lessons here. This child has mastered The Hook. OR...maybe the kiddo is taking after its Pops as seen in this previous post. Either way, I think it's gaining muscle control and survival skills.

Babies 'R Us... um... yeah.

Today we went to Babies R Us (BrU) to register for stuff and torture ourselves, and we were not left wanting!  I figured it would be bad, and I'm not one that enjoys the retail experience very much to begin with.  I managed to make the most of it by treating it like some sort of anthropological field trip, but Liz was ready to be done after under two hours (and probably sooner than that).

A few things I took note of:

• The big-box feel is overwhelming.  Tone it down a bit.  Maybe split into more distinct specialized sections or something.
• The registry desk could be better.  Granted, it seemed they were a little under-staffed today, but would it kill them to have more than one person there?  As we were getting set up, the woman helping us got interrupted at least three times by other customers.  That's frustrating for all involved.  (The clerk/associate/customer service specialist was great.  She did very well considering all the obstacles placed before her.)
• The little "showroom" set up in the middle of the store was terrible.  A few cubicles with a crib, dresser and changing table in them?  Plus, all the merch was in rough shape.
• The scanner was nice, but I managed to quit out of the registry program by clicking on a link for reviews that came up when I scanned a Pack n Play.  Had to find someone to fix that, and while she was getting me set up again, another customer kept saying "Excuse me, excuse me..."  I'm positive that it was obvious I was being helped at the moment.  Again, more staff at the registry counter would be helpful.
• Organization is set up like a department store or Target.  Bedding, strollers, bottles, potties and diapers, etc.  I would suggest that organizing by life stage would be more helpful: newborn (diapers, bottles, bassinets, strollers, car seats, carriers... this would obviously be the biggest section), then have sections with the things you may get later: toilet stuff, jogging strollers, solid food stuff, whatever.  On the other hand, that may be a terrible idea.
• Better products.  There was so much cheap crap there.  There is a TON of decent baby and kid stuff out there, a few minutes on the internet is all you need to see it.  Is it in BrU?  No.  None of the cloth diaper stuff we are interested in was there, or the monitor we want, or the baby food maker, or the diaper bag (that selection was particularly bad).  You get the picture?  However, they did have a big section of overpriced F.A.O. Schwartz clothing, but I would guess that useful premium items would sell better.
• We were asked if we were "finding everything alright" once during the first 90 minutes of shopping.  That's about right for me.  Towards the end, we were asked that question 3 times in 15 minutes!  And I'm pretty sure two were from the same person.  WTF?  If I have a question, I'll find you and say "Excuse me" a bunch of times if you are helping someone else.
• Bottom line: most of your customers are in their 20s and 30s. We expect a little more from our retail experience for it to be worthwhile.  We know how good it can be, so don't try to get by on your same old formula.

So, if you go, go with a plan.  Just make sure that plan includes having an Amazon Baby Registry for the things you really want.  Plus, with an online registry there's the added benefit that you or your loved ones aren't forced into going to Babies R Us!

Into Cyberspace

Tonight I updated my facebook (with Dan's humor help and approval):
just so you know...I am not just getting fat. There's a fetus up in there.


I felt a little like this:


And now the world knows. We're pregnant.


I think it's relatively safe now to come out from my hiding place (though the hematologist said the risks for complication don't really ever decrease--even up to three months post partum). And now you know why I've been hiding out; it's good to have you here reading and supporting me through the process. Thanks, in advance, for all the love, prayers, good energy, healthy vibes, and happy thoughts you send our way.


The only folks I haven't made a grandiose announcement to are my students. I keep thinking about how weird it would be if I were a 14 year-old-boy and my teacher announced that she was pregnant. I just can't bring myself to demand their undivided attention to tell them that my husband and I hooked up 22 weeks ago. I figure they'll catch on soon enough. Frankly, I am kind of surprised they haven't caught on already. For one, I gave my five yearbook editors little cards with coupons for "unlimited baby rocking' and jelly beans. And, in a matter of three hours 500 students knew about my baby-to-be. (And one kid touched my stomach.) And, second of all, my shirts don't exactly fit quite right. Then, today I got a few stares from some girls in the front row. You know the kind:

I am pretty sure they were thinking: "Is Ms. K just getting fat or...?"
So, I figured I'd answer that question for the rest of the world by updating my facebook status this evening. Mystery solved for all (unless you are a freshman in the front row of my fifth hour class).

I must know if there is a penis on that child!

Liz is picking up some onesies this weekend from a Craigslist ad.  She told me, "They are boy onesies, but I think that'll be alright." (For those not keeping score, we are not going to learn the sex ahead of time.)

I thought: What makes a onesie a "boy" onesie?  Must be something to do with the penis.  Duh.

I'm not sure why I didn't think about the color or the fact that there ar dinosaurs or some other thing on there.  Then I thought more about it.  These are onesies.  The kid will not be in these for long, and they will have no idea what the hell they are wearing.  They don't know color, they don't know a dinosaur from a manticore.  What do they care?

They don't.  It's for adults.  That way, people can determine the sex of a child at first glance.  "Gotta get them thar pronouns raght!"  In fact, I'm planning on having a little fun with this.  Why not dress the kid up to confuse people?  One day, we have a daughter, the next day, a son.  That sounds like fun to me!  If I have to carry around a diaper bag, I might as well get some free entertainment.

I recalled this article from the Smithsonian I read last year.  If you are looking for some more background on the genderfication of infants and small children, read this!  (Be sure to check out the slideshow.)  It looks like the book mentioned in the article is available now as well.  Could be an interesting read...

Just in case you are afraid I will dress my child up in gender-ambiguous clothing, don't worry!  I can always stick some stupid fake hair on the kid so strangers know it's a girl.  Or is it?

Bebe's hair may already be causing Lizzy heartburn!

Maniacal Moments

Alright, kiddo. Just so you know, sometimes your Mom and Dad aren't always nice to each other every moment of every day. It's part of relationships, I suppose. It's part of growing together and understanding each other. Here's a glimpse at how your parents get along. 

This morning I was focused on finishing the revisions for my dissertation--feeling pressure to finish this before graduation and baby delivery--noticing all of the unfinished business of the week and making the never-ending mental to-do list. It's my typical Saturday morning routine...Dan has always said that I am not very good at relaxing.

So, I got out of bed and started in on the work at hand at 8, and Dan stayed in bed until after 10. He went down stairs to watch videos and eat breakfast until the afternoon when I went and plopped down a pile of laundry and asked him if he could manage to put them in the machine while he watched behind the scenes of "Indiana Jones" and laughed at episodes of favorite sitcoms. 

I'll admit that I was jealous. I didn't want to be tethered to my laptop at the "Dissertation Desk" slaving away to polish the chapter I could practically recite by memory, and the one that, when printed, would undo all of my efforts in the past five years to reduce my carbon footprint.

That's when I turned into a jerk.

Could he make lunch?

Could he put the clothes in the dryer?

Could he pay his dentist bill?

Could he close the fridge drawer?

Could he do something?

Could he do anything?

(Could you see where this is going?)

I guess I didn't want to be the only one who had things to do.

I knew it was bad when there was a minor cooking disaster in the kitchen and Dan said he felt like he could do nothing right--and then he repeated a few of the critical things I had asked earlier. That's when I realized I this is what the situation had turned into: 

I admitted to being a closeted monster and we came up with some phrases that Dan could say when I was being a crazy person. (Most of which are not kid-friendly; I will refrain from sharing them here.) Let's just say that they were so outrageous (and I realized that I had acted so ludicrously) that I burst into laughter...which is how almost all arguments end at our house.

It sounded something like this:

When you realize you are being a crazy maniac, it's good to admit you're wrong and to help to make solutions to the situation to prevent future disastrous maniacal moments. And, it's good to laugh at yourself--because trying to make other people feel the way you feel is a ridiculous idea.  

And that's how we get along in our house.