She gets her own birthday; I get to keep mine.

I did have high hopes for a 2008 tax deduction, but it doesn't look good. This morning, it was made abundantly clear that she's going to be a January baby, and we won't be winning any "first baby of the year" awards either. And that's fine. She's healthy and active and will be here in her own time. I'm kind of relieved that we won't have to worry about getting across town to the hospital in a panic tonight when the crazy New Years Vegas party is in full force. Sure, we kind of scrambled to get everything ready, but we're so glad we did. It's hard to wait for her to get here, but it would be harder to try to do all of the scrambling with a sleeping/crying/wet/hungry baby in the house.

There's not much else going on. We're going to celebrate an early New Years with some friends tonight--the ball will be dropping at Jay and Tina's at midnight sharp, east coast time, so that the kids can enjoy it as well. We often laugh at how the parties in our circle have evolved over the years. They're much calmer and usually (but not always) quite a bit more dignified now, but no less fun.

Happy New Year!

Hello My Baby, Hello My Darlin', Hello My Ragtime Gal

You know the song, don't deny it. In the cartoon, the guy finds the frog in the cornerstone, and the frog starts singing.


The guy gets dollar signs in his eyes and takes the frog to a booking agent where the frog sits in the box and gives an indifferent croak. The guy tries to make him dance


And the frog does nothing.

How does this relate to us? I have come to the conclusion that this child is a reincarnation of Michigan J. Frog. For hours a day, she is jumping around, moving, poking, and doing high kicks. And this is reassuring to me because it means that she's OK, so I'm not complaining.

But the moment that I put someone else's hand on my belly, or that she's on deck for an ultrasound that is supposed to track her movement, there she goes, collapsing into an indifferent crouch, doing her best "No, really, I'm just a frog" imitation. Yesterday, the tech at the perinatalogist's office actually commented on her lack of movement, and said "Hmm, looks like we'll have to zap her." I'll say that again: "LOOKS LIKE WE'LL HAVE TO ZAP HER." What?! She brings in this device that can only be described as a miniature cattle prod, puts it on my belly, and pushes the button. I jump, baby jumps, Rob looks on in horror because they are evidently electrocuting his wife and child (it really wasn't so bad, just startling). And all of this because Speck only performs for me.

I've spent months trying to get other people to see this show. There have been nights where I slept 30 minutes at a time because she was so active. I've had to walk out of meetings because I couldn't sit comfortably because of the movement. And the second anyone looks at it, or I give in and say "OK, come here for a second" and try to let someone else get in on the action, she goes back to her peaceful slumber. People look at me like I'm nuts. Rob thought I was making it up until he snuck a peek one night (when Speck obviously wasn't looking) and caught sight of a couple of backflips for himself.

*sigh*

Everything is good. Probably too good, in fact. Her heartrate is still strong, she's in no distress, my blood pressure is really good, plenty of amniotic fluid. My OB took a measurement of my belly, and said "I don't know where you're packing this kid!" because while Speck's a normal size, I'm running a bit small. She's got another patient who's also 38 weeks who is "big as a house" and can barely move around. So I'm lucky there. And I'm taking comfort in reminding myself that she can't stay in there forever.

Can she?

A Weary World Rejoices

I started maternity leave on Monday about halfway through the day. I've been running pretty tired lately, and on Monday all signs were pointing to "OH just go home already!" So I did. It's been a good week ever since. I'm getting some stuff done around the house (OMG the kitchen positively sparkles!). I'm catching up on my daytime TV, and chick movies. I have reacquainted myself with the Wii, and I'm unlocking all sorts of marvelous worlds on Super Mario Galaxy. Maternity leave is pretty dull with no baby, though. I'm confident that once she gets here, things will pick up. I'm off through March 23. YAY!

Rob is at work today, but will have the next 6 days off and will be off Thursday and Friday of next week as well, and we're both looking forward to that. I don't think we realized how necessary having a few days off together before the real fun starts would be.

We didn't decorate for Christmas this year. It just felt like too much to deal with. And while it's weird to have a Christmas tree-scented candle instead of an actual tree, I feel like it's letting me see how different this Christmas is from last year, and all previous years, and how next year is going to be a whole new ball game. Ever since my mom died, Christmas has been kind of an iffy time of year for me. We spent a lot of years just grinding through the holidays because we felt like we had to. Some years, it was so comforting to bake the cookies and unpack the decorations that I grew up with. Some years, not so much. With the addition of Rob and Florence to our fractured family, we've rediscovered the joy that we used to have every year when I was a kid.

Last Christmas, we had the usual big lit-up tree and all the holiday stuff out and it was just wonderful to come home to see that every evening. Rob and I opened our presents on Christmas Eve (as usual because I can never wait and I'm a grown-up now so I don't have to) and it was just nice and quiet. On Christmas morning, we had breakfast and as we were waiting to go over to Dad & Florence's for dinner, I remember just thinking how quiet it was. Really quiet. Too quiet. It was serene and peaceful and we were very contented, but I felt like something was missing.

So here we are a year later and it's a whole different type of quiet. It feels more like Christmas than last year. There's a sense of anticipation--like when you're 8 years old and you KNOW there's an Atari under the tree but you have to wait and it's so hard but it will be so cool when you can finally tear into that one gift and spend the rest of your life being hypnotized by it. Yeah, it's like that. And no Christmas ever again will be spent waiting or hoping for more than we have right there with us.

Now go drink some egg nog. If you're feeling extra sassy, put some brandy in it and raise it in our direction. Next year, we'll return the toast. Merry Christmas from our family to yours.

I'm thinking he was kidding.

"Please please please don't go into labor next Sunday!"

Perhaps I set the bar too high by not insisting that our wedding be at a key moment in a major sports season. It was in May, which means that baseball season was just getting underway. There were no high-impact games happening on our wedding weekend, and we had a lovely, non sports kind of day.


Seriously.

I'm a planner. Everybody who knows me, knows this. I'm very much interested in making sure that the stuff that happens to me happens in a nice, orderly fashion. I've kind of let this go as far as the whole "having a baby" thing is concerned. We're not in charge here, and we've accepted that as a fact.

At least, I have. It wasn't easy, either.

So now, here we are at the end of the regular football season. The Cowboys may or may not make it into the playoffs, and we'll know next week after they play the Eagles. While I am interested in the outcome (GO COWBOYS!) I have a few other things going on that are just a bit more, um, pressing. I accept the fact that I may miss the game. Because I may be DELIVERING A CHILD INTO THIS WORLD.

Rob is a Chargers fan. Oh, wait, let me amend. He is a Chargers SUPER fan. We have stickers on the back of the Honda that proclaim his allegiance to his team. He has a vanity license plate that refers to the "bolts". License plate frame is Chargers. We have one of those pink football Ladanian Tomlinson jersey onesies that should fit Speck perfectly next season. I knew what I was getting into before I married him. We went to a Chargers/Cowboys game in 2005 and he was rather displeased when the Cowboys won and I was happy and vocal (or "mouthy") about it. Hmpf.

Next Sunday night, the Chargers play the Broncos for the AFC West title. Being a SuperFan, he's SuperExcited. And as he's skipping around the living room making grunty noises about beating the Broncos (let's face it, beating the Broncos is always a good thing) and how awesome it will be to watch that, he notices me standing in the kitchen and says, and I quote "Please please please don't go into labor on Sunday."

Oh. OK baby. I'll get right on that. Because I'm in charge of all of this. And even if I weren't in charge, I'm sure that we have created a child who is not only already aware of our hopes (like being able to watch the games next weekend) but also entirely willing to delay (or hurry) her arrival in order to make us happy.

But I'm not mad. Oh, no. I understand that there are things going on in this world besides the birth of our child. If I do decide to go into labor on Sunday (because after all it is up to me) I'm sure there will be a TV in the delivery room and we'll be able to watch the Chargers beat the Broncos, and even after having watched the Cowboys beat the Eagles. And we'll laugh about this business about how we worried about missing our games. I do hope the Chargers win, and that they win through the playoffs and make it to the Super Bowl.

Where they will meet the Cowboys again, for the first time (besides pre-season) since 2005. Go Cowboys.

No baby yet.

In case you're checking. But things are happening. At the perinatalogist on Thursday for the weekly fetal assessment, we determined that I'm having contractions. Not the Big Important "BOIL SOME WATER! GET SOME TOWELS! " contractions, but the kind that mean that things are moving in the right direction. My OB said on Wednesday that we'll most likely not have any excitement for at least a couple of weeks or so (I feel like I've been in "couple of weeks" mode for a month now...), but the contractions are a good sign.

It snowed this week! Twice, in fact. And not the usual insignificant Vegas flurry that makes everybody freak out for an hour and then it's back to normal. No, this was an event that began around 11AM and continued through the night. I left work around 4, and it took me over an hour to make the 10 mile drive to Dad & Florence's where I ended up staying the night. Here's what our backyard looked like that night.


WEIRD. This was the most significant snowfall that has been seen here since January of 1974, and I have pictures of that one as well, as it was my first birthday. Truly, I've come full circle as far as snow is concerned. Naturally, the snow from this latest blizzard is almost entirely melted. But it was cool to watch.

I have three days left of work and then the university closes for Christmas and New Years (or "the holiday", as we PC State Employees are required to call it) and I'll officially be on maternity leave until March. HOORAY! This last week was tough--I found myself wishing I'd taken these two weeks off because it's just such an effort to get there. My fabulous assistant (see pic of bride below...) is trained and ready to cover for me. This next short week will consist mainly of me cleaning out my desk, clearing my internet history (me? surf? what? never!), and just tying up the loose ends. It's so strange to do all of this; it's like I'm moving out of the house all over again.

That's the latest, then. We're starting to focus on the process of Getting To The Hospital when it's time. We have a code that I'll text to Rob if he's at work when it happens so he can hit the door ASAP. Our bags are packed (this was also handy on Wednesday because I had jammies and get-ready stuff with me when I crashed at Dad's...). The hospital is kind of a schlep across town, so we're hoping that when Miss Speck decides to show up, it's not during rush hour (unless Woman In Labor with Imminent Baby Coming qualifies me for the carpool lane). We're not taking the laptop with us, but we'll have our phones and will keep people updated as best we can.

A Synopsis of How Rob and Kristie Handled Pregnancy

You know, it hasn't been too bad.

It's 3 weeks before the due date, and we may not have the time to look back until after she's here. And frankly, actually seeing her is going to color our glasses rosy, so we think it's a good opportunity to assess how we got through the last few months, and perhaps answer a few of the most popular questions once and for all.

• Are you excited? Yes. Of course we are. This is the biggest thing that has ever happened to us, and we can hardly stand to even go into the nursery because the fact that there's going to be a baby in it is overwhelming. SO. EXCITED. And yes, Rob is too.
  
• What are you going to name her?! We covered this one early on. Next question.
• How much time are you going to take off? I'll be off from Christmas Eve until March 23. Three full months, and I'm so lucky to be able to do that! Rob will take off a week, and then more time as we decide he needs to.
• Daycare? How can you put your child in daycare? Well, we don't have a lot of choice here. We both work full time, and we need to continue doing that so we can keep things like a house and cars and food and premium cable. And unless one of us hits Megabucks, that's not going to change.
• When are you going to get a bigger house? Probably not for 3-4 years. We figure we have enough going on right now, and we know where everything is in our current house. It's not a palace, but it's big enough for what we're doing for a while.
• You're really not telling people her name? Nope.
• Are you going to vaccinate her? Of course. We're big believers in not having to deal with polio and mumps. We also appreciate when other people vaccinate their own kids.
• When are you going to have a second baby? Probably sometime between January 2009 and the year 2050. We'll keep you posted.
• Are you going to use drugs during labor? You betcha! A calm, non-freaked out mom makes for an easier experience for everyone involved. There's research about this. I have nothing to prove.
• How much weight have you gained? 27 pounds. True story. Quite proud of that. And I'm not positive, but I think Rob's weight has been holding steady. Thanks for asking.
  
• Come on, what's her name? People. Seriously. At this point, the only reason we're still holding on to this one is because it's evidently driving everyone nuts and we love doing that. It makes us laugh evilly.
• Do you like being pregnant? This is a tough one. Overall, yes, it's been an easy ride. The first couple of months were scary and the last few weeks have not been my most comfortable. I have only had a couple of real hormonal mood swings--the last one hit me in August and is still going strong. I have two pairs of shoes that fit because my ankles and feet have swollen up to an alarming size. But this is truly a miraculous process, and it's been one amazing moment after another. Do I like it? Most of the time, I do. Will I be glad when it's over? Yes. Do I think anyone who does this more than 3 or 4 times is crazy? Sure do.

And that's where we are. It's been fun, overall. There have been surprises (like how much Maalox can actually be consumed in a 24-hour period) and things that happened just like they're supposed to. We often marvel at just how blessed we are.

No one you see, is smarter than she.

Join me in singing the theme to Flipper, because that's what our little Speck has become. She has flipped over, demonstrating that she has inherited my internal compass and innate sense of direction. Today's visit to the perinatalogist was different from previous ones. It began with a quick, rather low-tech ultrasound to check on position, amniotic fluid, and whether she is practicing her breathing. Position? Good! Fluid? Good! Lung function? Good!

They also hooked me up to an industrial strength Doppler for 20 minutes to monitor her heartrate and determine whether she is experiencing any stress or distress. If there is evidence of either, or any issues with the position/fluid/lungs, they start talking about scheduling an induction or Cesarean section. Today, there was no indication that anything is wrong (great!) and it looks like I'm going to be pregnant for a bit longer (um...great.). I'll go back weekly for this ultrasound/monitoring for, well, the next 3-4 weeks.

Her newly-established orientation means that while there is no longer a head periodically wedging itself amongst my lungs, new and exciting shapes have begun appearing on my right side where her arms and legs are pointing. So, last night, for example, we should have known something had changed when a "limb-y" shape (according to Rob, who saw it live) emerged from under my ribcage instead of the usual "head-y" shape to which we had grown accustomed.

So what's next? We have three bags to pack: one for baby, with a couple of outfits, some blankets, and some extra space for the diapers and other swag we've been told to hoard at the hospital; one for me, with comfy clothes for coming home, various and sundry specialized undergarments, and travel-sized toiletries; and one for Rob, with a change of clothes, snacks, magazines, and other Rob-friendly items that will help him pass the time between our arrival and the baby's. We need to get the car-seat installed, because they won't let us leave the hospital with the baby unless that's done. We have a few things left to buy. And then we wait patiently for this little girl to decide that she's ready for a change of scenery.

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Baby Gear

Yesterday was my shower. I don't consider myself as someone who is into stuff like that. Other people's showers have always been fun, but not generally something that I've really gotten into. Being on the other side of it, in the midst of all of our preparations and the Big Discussions that are happening right now about what's going on and how we'll proceed have put the concept of Baby Shower into a whole new light.

There is nothing as optimistic, as hopeful, as wistful, as sympathetic as a baby shower. Women (not men--more on that in a minute) at all stages of life get together to give not only gifts, but advice and support based on their experiences. They tell stories that have no other suitable audience than other shower guests. The stories are intimate, funny, terrifying, and they create bonds between women who may have not much else in common. You learn things about your friends and their relationships that may not otherwise be revealed in any other situation. Heirlooms are passed along--either cherished family items that you have seen in pictures for years, or something as simple as your friend's diaper caddy basket that she is done with and knows how handy it will be for you.

Men do not belong at baby showers. They just don't get it. Even great dads who are 100% hands-on and they take other dads under their wings and give great advice, have no place at a baby shower. I've been to co-ed showers, both for babies and for weddings, and the men invariably flee into the other room to talk about anything besides weddings or babies and maybe watch some sports. No, showers belong to women.

My guests were my friends who are better sisters to me than my actual sister ever tried to be, my in-laws who have welcomed me into their family, a newlywed wife of just over a month, grandmothers, mothers of older kids and toddlers, mothers who won't have more kids and mothers who just might. They talked about how to get through those first treacherous weeks and what helped them do it. They compared notes (special wipes or regular wipes--there was a moment of tension over this one...) and drank wine and gave me an amazing afternoon.

One of my dearest friends made me a cake out of diapers. I had heard of such a thing, but I thought it was an urban myth. Ro, if you see this, the memory of those two tiers of rolled-up diapers (and bibs and hooded towel) will make me smile for years to come. My friend Kathy came down for the weekend and helped me sort through the gifts and put together a list of what we'll need to pick up (um, we don't own a single bottle...) and what we have plenty of (washcloths). She's going to send down her Pack & Play that will serve as a bassinette for the first few weeks. Tina offered up her expertise on helping me shop for nursing gear, and Katie made a stack of be-ribboned burp cloths that I am hesitant to use but I know they will come in handy. Everyone gave something that struck them as necessary, either by its cuteness (onesies with ladybugs on them? CUTE!), its convenience (a sterilizer that goes in the microwave!) or its faith (a wall-hanging with a prayer on it that will be the first thing seen as you walk into the room).

We probably have about 3 weeks left before the baby is born. We know that we're about to have life as we know it become almost entirely rearranged. We are surrounded by people who are itching to help us get through it. And we can't wait.

Anything can be a lullabye.

First, please note the time this was posted. It is currently 5:56 AM and I've been up for about 2 hours. On a Saturday. Compliments of one 6-pound unborn child, I might add, who seems to be interested only in making it known that she is becoming increasingly uncomfortable where she is and is ready for a change of scenery. More on that in a minute.

I got up so that Rob can get some sleep (and he is doing just that). I'll catch a nap later. But what do I do to get this kid calmed down so maybe I can catch just a few more Zs before the sun comes up? Run the Swiffer around to pick up the dog hair kills about 10 minutes. Not hungry. Don't feel like reading. Maybe there's something on TV. VH-1 is showing videos for once, and wouldn't you know that Britney Spears' new one is in high rotation. It's a catchy little tune--watch it here. I've realized that the more I move around, the less the baby seems to. This is doubtless going to become very important in the coming months.

So I rock out along with Ms Spears, singing along with the parts I know, dancing because nobody is watching (thank God, because there's a lot going on when I dance lately). And the kid calms down. She switches from actively rolling around in there with arms flailing (you can SEE the shape of a leg moving around) back to the restful sleep that I've come to treasure.

What's the lesson here? Perhaps that tiptoeing around a restless baby, with a quiet house and not a lot of movement, is not going to be the only solution for getting her to go to sleep. Sure, the singing and dancing may not always work, but it is officially going to be a part of the repertoire. Anyone who has witnessed my karaoke can attest to the fact that an audience only adds to my enthusiasm. So there we go.

Since I'm up and posting, here's what else is going on. Speck is "transverse", or breech. At my last OB appointment we determined that she needs to flip over if she's going to do the traditional "make like a baby and head out" thing. And that needs to happen soon. If it doesn't, then I'm a candidate for a C-section. This doesn't exactly thrill me, but this isn't about me having my ideally envisioned birthing experience. It's about this baby safely entering this world, and if that has to happen in an OR with a melon baller, then that's what we'll do. I see the perinatalogist on Wednesday for another ultrasound (more pictures!) and the OB on Thursday, and between the three (four, if you count our star attraction) of us, we're going to start coming up with a plan of action.

We've also done a bit more prep, besides the continued purchase of cute little clothes. We now have pictures on the wall of the nursery (terribly important, as our child must live in a properly decorated environment) and I have an appointment to meet with a pediatrician. A good friend (Tina :) ) recommended hers, and he's got an office that's just across the highway from us. I'll do some research on what sort of questions to ask (open to suggestions here...) and Rob and I are going to talk about what we'd like to know--such as how understanding will he be when we freak out about something that may or may not be freak-out worthy--and we'll go from there.

It's now 6:19 (hey look, the sun's coming up...) and I think I can crash for a bit longer. If not, I can always queue up some Britney on youtube.com, and she can help me nurture the kid. Shake it, Brit.