I said I wasn't going to blog about Sara being Pregnant. Not out loud mind you, I said it to myself, a solemn oath. What I actually said to myself was that I was never going to write one of those sappy miracle of life kind of blog entries about how my kid was born so perfect and how my life is now complete for it being here. How I interpreted that was that I wasn't going to write about any part of the process. Especially the first part- My mom reads this blog.
Besides, the world is full of sappy mommy and daddy blogs about perfect little angels. I think I just made myself nauseous. Don't get me wrong! ...You already got me wrong didn't you. You've made up your mind without hearing my side of this haven't you? Fine be like that! This explanation isn't for you anyway. This is for all those open minded, non-judgmental types out there who really want to know what I'm thinking. I have nothing against the sappy story about the perfect angel. Its just not who I am. I will never write a sappy entry like that. I've got a reputation to maintain, and that would do nothing to help my cause.
So, without ever seeing an example of a non-mushy piece of writing on the subject, I opted to say nothing, until now that is. That's right folks, I'm inspired to take my life in my own hands on this day the first day of the 17th week of Sara being with pod. I was heartened by quality hard core information like is offered at Dad Labs. That is news I can use. Next up, some true inspiration. Occasionally someone just gets it right and you know you can't top it. You can only imitate it and hope to be compared favorably to it. Thus I give you Irony Central's Story About The Baby. Don't drink when you read it, you have been warned.
Now suitably inspired I have a few little things to share with you about the last seventeen weeks of Baby's development:
During Sara's first trimester she had morning sickness noon, night, and beyond. I couldn't cook without her horking her guts out. You want to know how I found out? I got in the mood to have a good eastern NC clam chowder. I had some fully cooked carefully canned clams to start from and I began to create magic in a pot. The smell wasn't appreciated, but she was hungry and gave me the benefit of the doubt. It just so happened that while I was cooking, a little virus Sara picked up at work was doing some cooking of its own. I served, she ate, she even enjoyed it. We watched several hours of TV and went to bed. Six AM the following morning, two minutes before my alarm went off she sat bolt upright in bed. She moved so fast it woke me up. Before I could say, "Is something wrong?" she was kneeling before the porcelain alter and cursing my name in strange gurgling tongues. When she regained the ability to speak in English, she told me that I poisoned her. Her evidence was that all of the clam chowder from hours earlier came back for a second engagement and brought their SAG lawyers. So now I had a big pot of wonderful clam chowder in the fridge that she wouldn't eat, and couldn't stomach me eating, or heating, or anything else. I had to throw the entire batch away. A block away, in someone else's trash can.
She couldn't get much restaurant food down either. If she happened to feel like she could eat, she would be lucky to get past a few bites before she had to stop and go sit in the car. She lost nine pounds her first trimester. I put on easily twice that because I learned that if Sara couldn't get it down the first time, she wasn't going to be able to get it down as left overs. I got double rations for three months, so it wasn't all bad.
It was during the first trimester that she finally started smelling the stuff I've been smelling my whole life. Then she surpassed me. One night she commented on some stench or other which I couldn't smell. The dog looked at me, and used his telepathy to say to me, "Light weight". A couple of days later, she mentioned a smell, I looked at the dog and said; "Well smartass?" he just shrugs and sends me the though, "Dude, I'm as confused as you." I think she could find the Higgs-Boson particle by smell alone. (I'll bet it smells smug. Its called "The God Particle" if that doesn't make you smug I don't know what would.)
The Quickening: I never realized this was a pregnant mother thing. The idea is that during "the quickening" the mother feels the baby moving for the first time. This happens for first time moms between 18 and 20some weeks. All I know is that for some reason about the time Sara started feeling the flutter of tiny baby feet, the windows were in danger of exploding, and I lived in constant fear of losing my head. Coincidence? Unlikely. I don't go anywhere in the house where there isn't a sword or axe outside of arm's length, just in case I have to defend myself.
One night one of our friends proclaimed loudly and publicly that our child would be a girl. I'm not sure if it was a true prognostication of the baby's bits or a more feral wish to share his own pain. Ike has two children. His son is a perfect angel, his daughter brings balance to their household...with unholy fire. When the day comes, we will announce that either he has a 90% percent chance of being right or a 90% chance of being wrong. Apparently you don't get 100% until you lay eyes on the child's junk personally. This is true even if the tyke poses for the ultrasound.
One of the players on Sara's football team proclaimed that because of the possibility of accidents, Sara was no longer allowed to drive our car. She didn't want to risk the possibility of the baby being born with the word "Airbag Equipped" stamped on its head. Hearing this, I made a further proclamation; Sara was no longer allowed to ride in the front of the vehicle. I didn't want the risk of us getting in an accident and then our child mistaking Sara's breasts as flotation devices in the event of a water landing. This would surely be confusing to the child should Sara end up with the words "Airbag Equipped" stamped on her breasts as a result of a crash. Hey, I'm just looking out for everyone's best interest here.
Progesterone is a harsh mistress. The other day, riding in to work Sara out of the blue shouted "What the hell!?" I still have no idea why. Its like the baby gave her Tourette's syndrome or something. I will keep you all posted on this.
Its odd, half of our friends and family want us to have a boy for reasons of birthright, and stuff like that. The folks who want us to have a girl just want that so they can get rid of the all the stuff they've collected by having a girl themselves. Except for Ike of course, Ike still wants to share his pain.
More news as it happens...
