Odds and Ends

Ann had another ultrasound yesterday. I didn't go to this one, and it's probably best that I didn't, given that she wasn't terribly pleased with her technician, who took most of the measurements with the screen turned away, ostensibly so that the gender wouldn't be revealed. It means she missed out on all the fun of seeing the little guy moving around and such, and didn't get a good face photo.

It resulted in tears at Target in part due to the experience, and in part due to the fact that she apparently wanted to eat every cookie there. So on one hand, sadness. On the other, hey, cookies.

The first ultrasound was strange for me, as a lot of this has been for me so far - it's as if my job is completely done in this and now I'm just the dutiful husband who provides emotional support until the little guy decides to join us. As someone who has a "fixer" type personality, I spend a lot of time feeling helpless as all sorts of stuff goes on. I just want to hit the fast forward button a bit, but that's not how it works.

And yet we're still on the back end of this. Four more months!

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So now for some funnier stuff. Ann (and she's fine with me posting this) started lactating a few weeks ago. At first it was just a little, but she was just leaky leaky leaky putting the Christmas tree up. She plans to breastfeed, and I'm happy about that - I'm not totally convinced of the "breastfeeding is the best way period and you're setting your child up for failure if you do formula" mindset, but I think it's a good thing and I'm glad Ann agrees.

Let's be honest, though. NOTHING up to this point has grossed me out as much as this did.

I don't know if it was the visual, or just the fact that I figured that they, like, switched on following birth or something, but I assume my complete and total lack of preparation for that probably contributed to my immediate discomfort. It's something I'll get over (it's not like I have a choice), but hey.

Progress, though: I offered her a band-aid!

...

A postscript to the lactation thing: my mother wasn't too pleased with the trimming of the tree - apparently she's an Alzheimer's sufferer who hates Christmas now - but Ann was talking about reading stories where pregnant women begin lactating at the sound of babies crying, and it turns out that her body might actually just end up forming an association with my mother yelling at her.

Ann on Parenting

I haven't been neglecting this blog for any other reason than I've been super-busy the last few weeks, but Ann resent me a Facebook post she did regarding the type of parent she wants to be and some of her inspirations. It's even more relevant now, so those who missed it the first time around can take a look. I also threw it behind the jump here for those who can't see it on Facebook:

So Ann came downstairs in tears last night...

...and she was beside herself.  But even then, there was a hint of a grin on her face, but mostly mortified fear.

Apparently, she felt the baby's foot for the first time. This, however, was not a moment of joy, but rather one of sheer terror. No, this was not a great moment, but a gross one.  It's pretty much great for other people, but for her, well...

The baby apparently takes after its mother - like Ann, it has an apparent hair of running in place while laying down if the ultrasounds are any indication.  That Ann gets to feel what I put up with from her every night?

I have to laugh.  It's a moment, a milestone. And it made my wife want to throw up.

Why We're Not Finding Out

We had the first ultrasound where we could find out the gender of our little spawn last week. We didn't take advantage.

Unscientific polls of people we know suggest it's about 50/50 on people who want/wanted to know and those who did not when it came to their little people. The one universal constant is how sure everyone is when it comes down to their way being the way it should be done. At the end of the day, though, it ultimately comes down to two reasons: one fun, and one practical.

* On a fun level, we live in New England, which means babies get Red Sox stuff. If it's a little girl, we'd like to avoid the pink stuff as much as possible. It's kind of silly, yes, and it's not so much that we're at all concerned with gender roles and expectations or whatever. It's just that pink Red Sox stuff is a little obnoxious.

* On a more practical level, our friend Mark put it pretty well: this is one of the last big surprises we can have as a couple. Perhaps as human beings period. Why not enjoy it for what it is, and have a blast with it anyway?

After all, if it's a girl, everyone will buy it pink stuff then anyway.

I hope my future kid is this cool

Omaha schoolgirl dresses as a different historical figure each day:

The Dundee Elementary School third-grader comes to school dressed as a different historical figure or character — Every. Single. Day. And she's done that since the second day of second grade, when this all started.

I'm impressed by this in part because the kid is so darn smart, but also because her parents not only go along with it, but actually foster it. And good on the school - and the kids at school - for accepting it and working with it.

I know this is a lot like what Ann & I hope to be with our kid. Maybe it won't dress up like a historical figure, but if they have a passion and we're able to facilitate it, I think that will go a long way toward our being successful parents.

The Big Reveal...

So after waiting and waiting, and, frankly, after 7 weeks of just insane amounts of work for me, we did the announcement on the Facebook and such yesterday.

What's interesting is just how funny it is to let people know. It was likely different before there was an unspoken expectation to share basic important life things all the time - you told people when you saw them, and you maybe called them if you remembered. Today, you're trying to keep track of the people who aren't on Facebook, and the family members who are and might leak the information early, and the people who you want to tell in person so they don't find out on Facebook.

With our life as it is, it's difficult. We see people when we see people, and not a moment before. We try to schedule times to see them, it doesn't always work. Then you're coming up on the point where Ann's starting to show a little bit and it's an open secret and you just have to dive right in.

Most people understand. If there are people who do not, they thankfully haven't been vocal about it, and hopefully they're getting there. But the "starved for positive attention" sides of us really generally loved getting a lot of positive comments from people on what ended up being a hard day for us this past weekend. As difficult as it is managing online and offline life and etiquette when it comes to pregnancy stuff, it turned out a lot better than what our overall concerns were.

Life With Pregnant Ann.

Today, we got the first ultrasound images.

Jeff: "You're baking quite the bun in your oven!"
Ann: "With cheesy crust?"