NEWSFLASH: We're Published!

Interested parties can now order a hardcover copy of "This Soup Tastes Stupid" at www.blurb.com/bookstore

Copies cost $31.95 + shipping. There are also softcover copies available for $12.95, but I haven't seen how these turned out, so buyer beware.

We Have Lift-Off!

And now we have a new blog - "This Soup Tastes Stupid" will remain up, but we're moving to a new site and a new layout as we chronicle parenthood and babyhood.

Please join us at:

Little Dude

http://littledudereckess.blogspot.com

The Future of This Blog Part II

Still trying to figure out what to do about this blog... we are leaning toward creating a new blog, but are having difficulty coming up with a proper title and URL. Unfortunately, some other people have taken our blog name ideas, and we are a bit stumped. "O Is For Owen" has been claimed by another little boy, and "Little Dude" has been claimed by a person who hates Indiana and hasn't even updated his blog since 2004.

Any ideas?

Also, I haven't been typing/updating much due to a sore wrist/carpel tunnel syndrome- another symptom of pregnancy that hasn't abated yet. Boo.

The Future of This Blog

We are pondering what to do with this blog... it's quite the existential dilemma - should we start another blog about Owen/parenthood that has a more fitting title? Stupid soup doesn't make as much sense when you have a six pound cutie-pie. But creating a new blog is like changing your email address - inevitably people don't make the transition, and six months later you realize someone is completely out of the loop.

Post your own preferences for the future of this blog in the comments section (or email us), and we'll consider the future of the blog based on your desires. It's an election year, after all, and we're big proponents of the democratic process. Unless we no longer believe in democracy as a result of parenthood - it might have changed us already!

PS: Due to some requests for such information, we have registered with myregistry.com for baby items. Simply type in either Dave or my name to access.

Owen's Movie Debut

Here he is: Owen on video! Dave's voice does not generally sound like this - he is recovering from a bad cold.

Enjoy Owen in all his first week glory. We think he's amazingly cute and funny, even though he hardly does anything yet. Who needs cable TV?

The Birth Story

A brief recap of the birth story:

Monday, March 31 -- I had a bad sore throat and came home from school at 2:45pm to take a nap. Dave had classes all day in Cortland. At 5pm, I woke up from my nap to go to the bathroom, and as I sat up - Whoosh! My water broke. As I stood up, amniotic fluid poured out of me, soaking everything including my socks.

Dave and I had a plan for communicating about emergencies while either of us was in class - usually we call each other, but we decided that for an emergency, we would text message so the other person would know that it wasn't just a phone call asking the other person to pick up some groceries on the way home. So I texted Dave the following message: Water Broke. What a Mess.

Dave called immediately and said he was on his way home. Cortland is 45 minutes from Syracuse, so I laid back down on the bed and waited for Dave to arrive. At 5:30pm, the contractions began. I contemplated calling some friends to come over and help me until Dave arrived, but I had an unexpected labor coach right in the house - our cat Purna. She climbed up on the bed and laid next to me as I breathed through the contractions, and she licked my hands and put her paws on my arm. Anyone who has met Purna knows that she does not like to sit on laps or be touched, so this behavior was out of the ordinary and very, very welcome.

Dave came home and bounced around the house. He called his parents and my mom. My mom was scheduled to fly out to Syracuse the next day, but Dave convinced her to change her tickets for an overnight flight from Oregon to New York. Then he began gathering up our hospital gear - one giant red suitcase, a yoga mat, our winter coats, etc. He draped Mardi Gras beads around my neck. Then he made us dinner, because once you arrive at the hospital, you can't eat anything else. We ate macaroni and cheese and chicken sausage in bed, me on my side, and talked about how excited we were.

When we arrived at the hospital, we parked in the garage and walked through the underground tunnel to the elevators. A group of nurses was leaving the building, and upon seeing our giant red suitcase they said, "First baby, huh?"

Once we checked in at the labor and delivery floor, we were scolded by the nurse, who wanted to know why we took so long to arrive at the hospital (about four hours). How do you explain that lying on your own bed, with your cat helping you through your contractions, while your husband bounces around the house packing his toothbrush and preparing dinner, is exactly how you want to bring a baby into the world? The hospital is a nice, state-of-the-art facility with wonderful staff and great rooms - but it's not my house, and it doesn't have my cat, and their rocking chair just isn't the same.

I don't think it was a particularly hard birth or a particularly easy birth, and since I have nothing to compare it to... I guess it just was what it was. I'm glad I was able to experience it, that it brought my husband and I to a point of intimacy I'd never imagined, that the end result was a little human being who is perfect and healthy and very, very tiny.

Pictures of Owen

Owen, Owen, Owen. He's all we're thinking about right now, and so we've posted a few photos to tide you over until we can think straight and write a proper blog entry. The middle photo is of Dave holding Owen's baby book, with Owen's little footprint inked onto the page. You can see Owen's foot in the bottom center of the photo.

Thanks for all the well-wishes and congratulations you've posted and/or emailed to us. We're so pleased that you've joined us on this journey the past eight months - it's great to have a support-group that extends beyond the borders of Syracuse, NY. We really appreciate it :-)

Guess Who's Here?

We are excited to announce the arrival of our son, Owen Aviv Reckess, on April 1, 2008 in Syracuse, New York. He weighed 6 pounds, 14 ounces, and was 20 inches in length.

We'll post more details and pictures in the coming days. Thanks for all your good wishes and support! We love you!

- Sarah and Dave

No More Bed Rest!

Hooray! We had our 36 week appointment on Friday, and Dr. Fitzgerald took me off bed rest and said we're in the clear. The baby can come at any time, and no one's going to try and prevent it. I celebrated by climbing some stairs.

Three weeks of bed rest took me from healthy pregnant lady to invalid with sausage toes. My feet are so swollen I can only wear clogs (a problem considering we received a dumping of snow on Thursday night), my fingers are so swollen I can't feel the tips of my fingers, and my face is unrecognizable to me (Dave claims I look exactly the same, but this is not true, not true at all.) I am currently icing my ankle and wearing a wrist brace. You'd think that I am injured.

So in the interest of speeding up the baby's delivery AND getting my body back, I am seeking out different homeopathic methods to get labor started and make myself feel better. And now that I'm off bed-rest, I can do more active things than before. Here is the list of new and improved aids:

1. walking, walking, walking - and climbing stairs (but no heavy lifting)

2. back to yoga and stretching exercises

3. taking Evening Primrose Oil (to thin my cervix)

4. drinking raspberry leaf tea to tone my uterine muscles, more nettle tea to increase circulation, and lots and lots of water

5. rocking positions to get the baby to turn with its back toward my stomach and its face toward my spine (prevents painful back labor and gives me relief from backache)

6. Jasmine rice in a brand-new tube sock, heated in the microwave for 2 minutes = aromatherapy + heat pad = neck and back relief

Test Run

So last night I arrived home from school after a long day, and was met at the door by an eager husband asking, "Are you having contractions?" It's kind of like, "Hi, honey, how was your day," once you reach the ninth month. But Dave wanted to know for another reason: before I left for school that morning, I had picked up around the house even though I am not supposed to be doing things like that. And "nesting," as it's called, is often a sign of labor.

I wasn't having contractions, but I did realize that I had only felt the baby kick once all day. And the day before - nothing, really. Now that the baby is bigger, the kicks have turned more into rumblings and shoves and beach waves rather than the little tickle under the ribs. I hadn't felt any of that in two days. Hmm. And I had been instructed to report this info to the doctor.

It was around 6pm, and I called the doctor office answering service to report this news. I also suspected that I might be leaking amniotic fluid, but, as you know, this is the first time we've done any of this, and sometimes I really have no idea what's going on. In early March I thought I had a bladder infection, which turned out to be the baby's head pushing on my pelvis. If I could get that wrong... who knows? So to be safe, I called the answering service.

Then Dr. Doan, one of the OBs, called back and yelled at me. "Two days!" she said. "No, you need to call us if you haven't felt the baby for half a day!" Oops. "Why didn't you call us earlier?" she demanded. I told her that I just got home. "Home from where?" she yelled. I told her school, and she sighed loudly and said, "Get to the delivery room NOW."I have to explain that Dr. Doan is a miniature-sized person with a very thick Asian accent. Some people might say that she is abrasive. Dave and I find her hilarious.

Dave and I looked at each other and said, "I guess we're going to the delivery room." But first I fed the cats and went to the bathroom three times and Dave made up a snack bag. We left the huge pile of stuff in our living room, the stuff the hospital insists you bring with you, right where it was. We didn't even take the car seat. Part of this was reasonable: even if I was in labor, they weren't going to keep me. They would tell us to go home and rest and come back when the contractions started and were closer together. And part of this was sheer dumbness.

Dave drove the car, while I sat in the passenger seat and fed him leftover meatloaf from a tupperware. Dave was hungry for dinner. I wasn't feeling much of anything except... sudden cramping. Contractions?

We arrived at the hospital area, and Dave couldn't remember which parking garage we were supposed to park in. Then we took the elevator down to the underground tunnel connecting the garage and the hospital, and Dave couldn't remember which elevator to get on. If I hadn't been there to steer him around, he would have wound up in the ICU, I believe.

We got into the labor and delivery room, I put on my snazzy hospital gown, and Dave ate the rest of the meatloaf. We were very calm. The staff kept commenting on how busy the labor and delivery floor was that evening, but we couldn't hear any sounds. Then the nurse hooked me and baby up to a monitor, checking baby's heart rate and my contractions, and suddenly, as if baby had just arrived home from a vacation to Bermuda, baby went nuts! Kicking and turning all over the place. So after two days of quiet, the minute we arrived at the hospital, baby became the center of attention. I felt a little sheepish.

We were fine. They let us go home. It was the fastest hospital visit ever. As we walked through the underground tunnel, we saw Dr. Doan, arriving to deliver someone else's baby. She saw us and said, "Two days! No, no, no!" Then she swatted me with a file she was carrying.

Dave, thinking back on our three hours of fun last night, said that the best part was how calm we were. For me, it was getting swatted by my doctor. Today we have a regularly scheduled appointment at the doctor's office, where I expect they will counsel us on the signs of labor and delivery, and give me a stern talking to for not going to the hospital sooner. But again, we're first timers. How do I know what I'm doing?

Baby Instructions

A friend sent us a funny little list of Baby Instructions. You can share in the fun by clicking here. We're thinking about attaching these instructions to bibs, so the reminder will be right there, front and center, to instruct us NOT to put the baby IN the dryer.

35 Week Belly - One Giant Ab of Steel

My belly is hard as a rock. It's like I have a superhero power, with the ability to roll off the bed without help, leaping over the cat like he's the Empire State Building! Hooray! If I was an exercise guru, I would teach others how to have their own giant Ab of Steel. Arlo hates the Ab of Steel - he refuses to sit on my lap. But Dave is attracted to the Ab of Steel like Oreo Cookies to Milk. It might have something to do with the fact that the Ab of Steel is protecting his progeny. I like to think it's because I have the largest muscle Dave has ever seen.

For Better, For Worse, In Sickness and In Pregnancy

I was in the bathtub yesterday, turning like a rotisserie chicken. Otherwise my belly gets really cold. Turning, turning, turning. Lah-de-dah. Then I decided to get out... and realized I was stuck. So I called for Dave to help me out of the bathtub, and he willingly obliged.

Then I was sitting on the couch, typing a paper, when the phone rang. The phone sat only inches away, but Dave had to answer it because I couldn't get there in time.

I have to remove my toenail polish by Tuesday morning, but I can no longer reach my toes, so I've already lined Dave up for that job, too.

When we got married, we made all those "for better, for worse, in sickness and health" promises - I just didn't realize that we'd have to make good on those promises so early in our marriage. This time last year, I didn't imagine that ten months later my husband would have to pull me out of the bathtub, or remove my nail polish, or anything else remotely associated with infirmary. But here we are.

I often read that having children affects your relationship with your partner- but I haven't once seen any acknowledgment that pregnancy affects your relationship, too. For better, I hope.

Growing, Growing, Growing... But Baby is Still Smooshed

I can't believe how large I'm getting. Tonight I was using a restaurant bathroom with a very large mirror, and a Janet Jackson song was playing over the loudspeakers, and so I wiggled a little bit to the music while I washed my hands. And I realized that I looked absolutely, 100% ridiculous dancing.

Then I fell off the couch when I reached for my drink on the coffee table. The belly weight pulled me right off!

Yesterday we had another sonogram, and this time the photos came in 3-D. The technology isn't perfect, and some of the pictures looked a bit weird, but there is one certainty: the baby is squished. Every photograph of the face shows 1. the baby has Dave's lips, 2. the baby has my nose, and 3. the baby's face is completely smooshed, like it's looking through a window and making faces. I can't help but feel bad for the littlest Reckess. But baby will be out soon (5 weeks til our due date) and will be able to stretch its face as much as it wants.

Our Rocking Chair

This rocking chair is the newest baby furniture addition to our house! My mom is responsible for painting this gorgeous piece of art, and last night Dave and I put it together - slowly. We are not the greatest carpenters.

We've decided that for now, the rocking chair is only allowed to be used when I'm doing something positive related to the baby - reading, thinking, meditating. The reason we've instituted this policy is because I'm beginning to feel a little stressed due to school responsibilities and health issues, so we've designated the chair as my special baby place. Rocking back and forth and thinking about the baby will give the chair good karma - and hopefully keep me sane until labor. After that, it's anybody's guess where I will find my sanity... hopefully when snuggling with my baby and husband.

Spring Pedicures for Pregnant Ladies

My feet are so swollen that on Thursday I couldn't even get the ball of my foot into my dress shoes, and I was due in court. Uh-oh. I found a suitable shoe alternative, but my poor little piggies screamed all day long. That called for a quick trip to SpaZend, a wonderful little day spa located next to the Onondaga School of Therapeutic Massage in downtown Syracuse, for a pedicure. Aahhhhhh.

Mostly I wanted to soak my feet and receive a nice foot massage, but then I realized that some nail polish was in order-- more specifically, nail polish that would celebrate the arrival of Spring next week. So I chose some bright red paint (they didn't have any called, "Pregnant Lady Polish," although I did ask) with the hope that the weather will warm a little bit in the next couple of weeks, allowing me to show off these beautiful toes in shoes that are less-confining and pain-inducing than my winter weather gear.

Then I tried to take a picture of the new toes, but I couldn't figure out a way to get both feet in the picture without falling over. So there you have it: one foot (kind of) in the picture peeking out from this mammoth belly.

Mass Chaos Ensues!

We've had a medically-intense week - three doctor's appointments in 7 days, another scheduled next Wednesday, and to top it all off, the veterinarian's office has become our second home due to Purna eating a large wad of ribbon and undergoing emergency surgery on Monday. Whew! The smell of antiseptic is coating our winter jackets!

On Monday, the baby weighed in at a whopping 6 pounds, and I'm on modified bed rest for the next two weeks (we'll be at 36 weeks then) to keep baby from pushing through to the other side. It's too early, baby. You need to stay in there a little longer and bake. But baby is ready to see the world and play with all the great toys we've been given... baby wants to come now, even though our due date is still 6 weeks away. The doctor said our goal is to have the baby hang out for two more weeks, and then we'll see what happens. All of this information led to Dave having a major freak-out and deciding last night that no matter what, he had to put the crib together. JUST IN CASE.

Well. Like I said, I'm on modified bed rest which means I wasn't going to help, and we didn't call a friend over because it was Friday night, and so Dave disappeared into the back room for 4 hours to battle the crib directions all by himself. Let's just say that some major steps in putting together this most important piece of furniture were missing, Dave got cranky beyond belief, and I slept through it on the couch. But now... TA-DA! The crib is ready, except we have no sheets or anything, but still...

Then this morning on the way to pick up a prescription, Dave installed the infant car seat, too. JUST IN CASE. So now we're closer to being ready for the big arrival, even though we really need the baby to stay put for at least two more weeks. Hang on, little one. 'Cuz once you come out, there's no going back in.

How Do You Put a Baby in a Car Seat? Verrrrrry Carefully

Dave and I are practicing to be parents, but it's a little difficult without an actual human being to test our skills on. This weekend we decided to open the box holding the car seat and stroller and see what we could figure out. After some finagling, we finally got the teddy bear strapped into the car seat - aren't we glad we DIDN'T try this out on a human, or else we might have dislocated an arm. The stroller, however, is still lying prostrate in the back room, ready for one of us to screw on the wheels. We think it looks great in that heap. Very user-friendly.

The Belly Cast

Ooh hoo hoo. Dave certainly looks proud of himself in the top picture. And look at me, covered in plaster! Dave and I took the time to create the belly cast this weekend, and here's the picture to prove it. We also destroyed the bathroom and a pair of sweat pants in the process, but it was worth it!

The next step is to let it dry, sand it, and paint it. I'm thinking this will be a good activity for me when my "nesting" urge kicks in prior to labor - rather than cleaning the house spotless, I think I'll finish the belly cast.

See our earlier post, Pregnant Belly as Art?, for further explanation as to how this art project entered our lives.

Banking Our Cord Blood

Now it's time for your public service message. Dave and I (with the generous support of family) have decided to bank our baby's umbilical cord blood. What this means is that at the birth, once Dave cuts the umbilical cord, the doctors will save some of the cord blood in a super-fancy plastic ziploc bag, and then Fed-Ex picks it up and delivers it to a lab in Boston. And then, hopefully, the blood will sit in the Boston lab for the next 25 years without ever being touched. In the off-chance that the baby in born with a genetic disorder or develops a disease during that 25 year time period, the cord blood will provide the necessary stem cells for treatment.

This technology is expanding rapidly - ten years ago stem cells only treated a small handful of diseases, but now they can use the technology in over 40 different cancers, hemoglobin diseases, bone marrow deficiencies, and immunodeficiencies. Current research focuses on heart disease.

The great thing about cord blood banking is that if the donor/baby eventually needs the stem cells, his/her body won't reject them. Also, the stem cells can be used for siblings, parents, or anyone who is related by blood, with a lower incidence of rejection.

There are a number of private companies out there, and we've chosen ViaCord at the advice of our doctor. He recommended them due to their longevity, financial security, and his prior experience with their employees and staff. Some states now have public cord banking, too, but New York hasn't gotten their act together enough for Dave and I to hand them a nice big check.

We are thinking of cord blood banking like life insurance: you don't want to buy it because it's creepy, but you need to buy it because it's necessary. We felt that a couple of hundred dollars a year was worth the peace of mind.

Are Those Bunny Ears I See?

I sent this photo to my mom yesterday, and she insisted I post it for all of you. I'm not exactly sure whether those pink and black things are bunny ears, space antennae, crab eyes? Because they certainly don't look like my feet.

Showing Off My Eighth Month Belly

Two photos (click on each to enlarge) for your viewing pleasure, taken at 32 weeks. Only 8 more weeks to go! Now if I could only figure out where the baby is going to go as it grows. It's getting a little cramped in there.

The baby's movements have changed substantially in the past week and a half. Rather than kicks and random movements, baby has a schedule (10pm? Law and Order is on TV - time to wake up and move!) and reflexes. So when Dave puts his head against my belly to listen in on the noises of the womb, baby kicks him in the ear. If I push on baby's feet, baby kicks back. If I rub near baby's head, baby moves. Amazing!

FYI: black maternity dress from Gap Maternity Online. Pants are beginning to be uncomfortable and slide down the belly. (For relevant musical interlude, click here to listen to the Nields' song, Shoes: Farewell My Pants) Maybe I will wear this black maternity dress every day for the rest of pregnancy???

FYI part 2: Last night Dave and I went out to dinner, and I wore sweat pants and a sweatshirt (which for anyone who knows me knows that that is NOT acceptable). Before we left the house, I asked Dave if it was ok that I didn't change. He replied, "Considering how much effort you would expend just to change clothing, it's ok. But 8 months ago, it would not have been ok." Ah, true love.

Hello, Mr. Braxton-Hicks

I have met Mr. Braxton-Hicks. You know how one day you'll meet someone for the first time, and then suddenly you'll see the person everywhere - grocery store, public bathroom, sidewalk? Well, that's a good assessment of my newfound relationship with Mr. Braxton-Hicks.

Braxton-Hicks contractions are pre-labor contractions. They are the body's way of warming up for the big event. They do not mean you are going into labor, although many a person has freaked out and driven to the hospital just to be told that she has been visited by Mr. Braxton-Hicks. Not to worry.

Last week I started getting cramps in weird places, like around my belly button (still an innie - probably never destined to be an outie, much to Dave's disappointment). They didn't last long, but they were powerful little buggers. A couple of times I gasped. They don't hurt, but they are startling to experience. Involuntary cramping can do that. I'd compare them to menstrual cramps, but again, they occur in strange places.

But then I was leaving school yesterday afternoon, carefully maneuvering through the icy parking lot and sliding a little bit, when suddenly, BAM! Contraction. My body cramped so severely I stopped walking, grabbed the nearest vehicle's side-view mirror, and practiced my yoga breathing. Whoa. After about 45 seconds, I was able to slide over to my car and take a break behind the steering wheel. The whole episode made me nervous. Please, please, please, I thought, we cannot go into labor now. It is simply too early for this. And then... nothing else happened. I wasn't in labor at all. I had been visited by Mr. Braxton-Hicks.

Later that afternoon, we had our 32 week check-up, and the Nurse Practitioner confirmed that those mysterious cramps were Braxton-Hicks contractions. The big one and the little ones. And I've already had two today. So it seems that Mr. Braxton-Hicks and I are destined to be friends for the remainder of the pregnancy. I am welcoming him because I like to think that his presence shows that my body knows how to do this. We are getting ready.

Swollen Like a Balloon

I'm beginning to swell. Ankles, feet, wrists, fingers... no more wedding ring, no more bracelets. Even my watch is leaving marks. When I type for too long, I have trouble bending my knuckles. But none of this is as annoying as my swelling feet.

After a long day today (and a long day yesterday), my feet were actually bruised from my shoes. I am currently writing this entry with my feet, ankles and calves submerged in our beverage cooler. Dave filled it with hot water and lavender milk. I feel better.

Babies, Babies, Everywhere

So when we got pregnant seven months ago, we didn't have any friends with babies. None. And people started telling us, "Just wait. As soon as you have a kid, you'll make friends with lots of people who have babies." Yeah, right, we thought. Like these people would just magically drop into our life.

Well... we were wrong, and those people with the advice were correct. We had a baby/toddler-centered weekend, something that would have NEVER happened last year at this time.

On Saturday we attended lunch at our Rabbi's house, who is pregnant and has a toddler of her own. And there was another two-year old and his mom present, and a couple who is due in two weeks, and another couple named David and Sarah who have a 6 month old. Babies, babies, everywhere. Dave was so overwhelmed he insisted we drive straight to Babies R Us and pick up our new crib.

Then last night we hosted our annual Oscar Party, and our friends Jason and Kira brought Silas, age two weeks, who is tiny and sleeps a lot. Purna the cat really liked his car seat. Babies, babies, everywhere. I was so overwhelmed I went to sleep and dreamed of our baby's first birthday, with all those little people present. How great that you can be born into this world and already have friends!

Prenatal Yoga Class is My Friend

This morning I attended my second prenatal yoga class - and it is amazing. First of all, everyone is pregnant! I know this seems obvious, but being pregnant all by yourself can be a little lonely, and attending an exercise class with other pregnant people makes you feel normal and less... awkward, especially when you're doing squats.

Secondly, the instructor, Edie, is Grandma-aged (of course, she looks like she's 35, but...) and does this out of the goodness of her heart rather than for the money. We use a yoga center's space, but we pay Edie directly. And it's a very minimal amount.

Thirdly, Edie teaches us labor and delivery techniques, breathing exercises, basic yoga, all rolled into one. This class might be more worthwhile than the childbirth prep class Dave and I took for five weeks in Jan-Feb through the hospital.

Fourthly, Edie asks people for specific physical pains/discomforts and then targets the class directly - for instance, today a woman said she was having sharp pains from her sciatic nerve (something that plagued me two weeks ago and is excruciatingly difficult to stretch out), and Edie changed some of our routine and incorporated positions to take off the pressure on our sciatic nerve. Beautiful!

I *heart* prenatal yoga. Hooray that the class exists and isn't financially out of our league!

Brain Turns to Mush; House and Car Suffer

I kept hearing about pregnancy brain, which is a symptom of pregnancy that includes scattered thoughts and trouble concentrating. Pregnancy brain is pretty much preparing women for child-rearing, I've been told. But so far, I had escaped. Some minimal incidents occurred, yet they were relegated to forgetting to ask someone a question when I saw them in the hallway or misplacing my eyeglasses in the house. Minor, no big deal...

And then I hit the house with my car. I swear that the house just jumped out of nowhere and got in my way. I pulled a little siding off the house (which I pushed back in) and scraped off a minimal amount of vehicle paint near the wheel well. Otherwise, no harm, no foul.

Then I drove to school, parked in the lot, had a full day, and as I was leaving the parking lot, I put the car in reverse and drove right into the car behind me. I got out and looked - the bumpers touched, the structure of both was unchanged, no paint was removed... again, no harm, no foul. But TWO incidents in one day? After having a stellar record of NO HITS since a 2am occurrence in 2001? How was this happening to me?

I was going to blame the weather. Or lack of sleep. Or lack of caffeine in the mornings. But I have to be honest. I have pregnancy brain.

My Temporary Handicapped Parking Permit

During college my parents lived in Germany, and I was fortunate to visit two summer in a row. One cultural difference that was very new to me, and to most Americans, is the Third Trimester Parking Spaces all over the place. They weren't just in front of doctor's offices; they were in metropolitan parking garages in Cologne, in front of the H&M in Bonn, at the airport in Frankfurt... everywhere.

Fast forward 8 years to Syracuse, New York, the land of winter and ice and everything nice. I love winter, but I am having a bit of a problem with it this year. My balance just isn't what it used to be, seeing as I'm carrying 20 extra pounds right out front, and skating down the icy driveway is no longer fun - now it's terrifying.

I also park in no man's land on the SU campus, and even though it is supposedly "handicap accessible" - the whole thing is uphill on ice.

And there is no such thing as Third Trimester Parking in the States, unless you count my doctor's office and the Babies R Us parking lot.

So I asked my ob if the office could help me acquire a temporary handicap parking permit- and they said certainly. It took a couple of days to figure out HOW to actually apply for a permit in the city, but now I have one. And it has already contributed to my peace of mind substantially. I only use it when the weather is nasty, and since we have a large winter storm rolling in tonight, I am fortunate to have this little red sign in my possession.

Crib Crisis!

Dave and I thought we were being responsible by ordering and paying for our crib 4 weeks ago. The crib would take between 10 and 12 weeks for delivery, so by ordering early, we were giving ourselves a lot of time to put together the baby room and move out/rearrange the other furniture. We pride ourselves on being organized like this.

And then Babies R Us called on Thursday to report that the crib we ordered had been discontinued, and it took the company 4 whole weeks to report this information to us. Suddenly, we were in crisis mode - we only have approximately 10 weeks left in this pregnancy, and the crib might arrive post-delivery if it took the manufacturer 12 weeks to deliver it! Not that the crib arriving late would be horrible, but still... our organization didn't matter. We no longer had a crib, the one and only piece of furniture for the baby that we've actually bought.

And shopping for a crib in early January had been a pain - we didn't realize how picky we were until we got down to buying one, and then a lot of little things mattered. For example, not all cribs have a drop-down mechanism for one side, and as a petite person, there is just no way I can reach into a full-sized crib and pick up a baby with my short arms. Not to mention the process of changing the crib's sheet. This drop-down feature was important us, and you'd be surprised how many cribs don't have this. Apparently all Americans are now American Gladiator-sized. As are their houses, because many of the cribs we looked at are too large for the baby's bedroom.

Also, we live in a geographical area where baby furniture is relegated to Babies R Us and Target - we looked in regular furniture stores, but no luck. And forget specialty baby boutiques - they don't exist in Central New York, nor could we afford a $900 crib. So our choices of merchants were limited if we actually wanted to see the crib first. We had looked at some cribs online, but without being able to actually see how tall they were, measure them, play with the drop down sides, and see and feel their materials, I didn't want to buy something sight unseen. Some cribs are made from something called, "Manufactured Wood" which is plastic with wood grain painted on it - I never would have known this unless I got to see the stuff in Babies R Us and decide we weren't putting our kid in a plastic crib with painted-on wood grain.

So Friday evening before dinner, Dave and I dragged Paula and Azzy to Babies R Us to find a crib pronto. Even though we had spent a lot of time there already, the store manager who called about the discontinued crib reported that they had new models on the floor, and they were giving us a 10% discount on any other crib we bought. And lo and behold - we found one we liked even better than the original crib, and it'll be arriving next week.

Crisis averted!

Dave Has Enough: "Stop Bludgeoning Me with the Baby"

I'm carrying a wide load, and I'm carrying all of it straight out front. I still have a waist, an hour-glass figure even. I also have the largest belly imaginable, and it's only getting bigger with every passing day.

So I'm making some adjustments, like sitting farther back from the computer desk at the clinic and angling myself at the dinner table because the belly doesn't fit underneath. Don't get me started on washing dishes - I can do the plates and silverware ok, but as soon as I try to wash the pots, with my short arms at odd angles because I have to stand so far from the sink... I beg off and leave them for Dave.

A baby gut is not a beer gut - it doesn't move out of the way, it can't be sucked in, and it's hard as a rock. Think of it as an extra appendage.

And I love my husband. A lot. (Has that come across in these entries? We have been accused of being sickeningly cute with each other, which is why it's a good thing no one else lives with us). I get excited when he arrives home, or when we cross paths as I beeline toward the bathroom, or when I decide that it's time to go disturb him as he does his homework.

So with all my enthusiasm in mind, picture me rushing toward my husband and almost knocking him over with the belly. Bam! Dave grabbed the counter and remained upright, but he almost hit the floor. And then he had to say the following words: stop bludgeoning me with the baby!

Never did I consider that I would be responsible for abusing my husband with our child in utero. This is my public mea culpa - sorry, Dave!

Leg Cramps and Fish Tea

I have leg cramps in my right leg. And they are painful and all-consuming and last days and days and days. I tried foot baths and elevating my feet and drinking lots of water, all without any alleviation.

So Chris the Doula suggested I try some nettle tea, as it helps leg cramps. So...yesterday I went to the health food store and bought some stinging nettles to make into tea, and today after school I steeped the nettles. While I was waiting for the tea to be ready, I busied myself putting away dishes, and as I did, I could smell a strong fishy smell near the sink. I sniffed around, thinking Dave had made a tuna fish sandwich for lunch, or something was rotting in the garbage, or... no. It was the nettle tea. It smells like fish. And anyone who knows me knows that fish is not my friend.

I added honey to the tea, and it doesn't taste that bad (although I do detect some fishiness). The smell, though, is almost over-powering.

Leg cramps or fish tea? Right now the leg cramps are so bad that I'm holding my nose and drinking the steaming, smelly liquid. But really... is there any better way to torture me than fish tea?

Our Doula, Chris

Dave and I have hired a doula (pronounced doo-lah) for our labor & delivery. Her name is Chris, she has two children of her own, and she will be with us for the full labor & delivery. Doulas provide education, experience, & emotional support for laboring parents, and they also provide post-partum services/ newborn care. Doulas are not midwives, but labor assistants - they know all those little secrets to childbirth, such as helpful labor positions that use gravity rather than sheer pushing force.

Studies have found that doula-assistance decreases the rate of cesarean birth by 50%, decreases the amount of laboring time by 25%, and decreases the need for pain medication by 30%. Doulas also provide support to labor partners - Dave is so emotionally-invested in the birth that we had some worries that Dave might not react logically during the birth, but instead instinctively (you've started contractions? Let's go to the hospital NOW instead of staying home for the next 8 hours, just in case...).

I had first heard of doulas when we lived in California - a high school friend of Ouida's told me that his girlfriend was training to be a doula, and after a brief conversation, I realized that either I wanted to be a doula or else I wanted a doula with me during my labor. Seeing as how I am going to be a lawyer instead, I guess I get option B.

Central New York has an extensive doula network - some of the doulas are trained & certified, and others are in the process of gaining enough experience. Chris has asked if a doula-in-training can attend our birth as well, so actually there will be four of us in the room: me, Dave, Chris, and the Doula-in-Training.

Dave and Baby Have Their First Private Moment

If you don't already know this, Dave is a big political junkie, and Super Tuesday was the first time either of us have voted in a primary during an election year. And Dave was excited. And Dave didn't want to go to bed last night because he didn't know how California had voted yet in either the Republican or Democratic primaries. So I went to bed, and Dave stayed in the living room and flipped back and forth through the TV channels hunting for results until he finally got some answers.

In the meantime, I fell soundly asleep.

Dave then got into bed, and I was on fire! Hot, hot, hot. And Dave was kind of cold, so he snuggled up next to me to use my body as a radiator, and in the process, put his hand on the belly. And what a surprise! The baby started kicking, rumbling and tumbling, and Dave lay there feeling the baby's movement for a good five minutes. All the while, I was completely asleep - thus, it was the first time that Dave and baby have had a private moment to themselves. I like to imagine what Dave looked like as he held his hand to my tummy, what Dave felt with his hand, how thrilling it must have been for him to have this little moment with his child.

Look What Three Weeks Can Do!

Well. I thought that I wasn't really growing that much, and then I decided to take a picture this evening to post on the blog... and WOW! The top picture is at week 25, and the bottom picture (taken today) is week 28. I can't believe how much we've grown!!!

ps - do you like my pregnancy pants? Hallelujah for spandex! Mom bought these for me at Pea in the Pod, in case anyone's interested.

pps - click on the photos to enlarge them, if necessary

I Fall in Love with My Tummy

Generally I've been sort of gawking at my pregnant tummy so far. I didn't feel very attached to it - instead I've felt attached to the baby. But the belly? Ugh. The tummy was in the way, it made me feel overweight, it hurt my back... And when I sat down, it deflated like a balloon. Bleh.

I've felt attached to the baby for some time now, but the belly was its own thing - it was the outward manifestation of the pregnancy, whereas the baby was a little person growing inside. And in my mind, those were two different issues.

This morning as I toweled off after my shower, I took a good hard look in the mirror, and I didn't feel revulsion or embarrassment at all. Instead I felt a little part of my heart turn to complete mush. I fell in love with my tummy this morning.

Can Baby Pick a Superbowl Winner?

We're not sure who the baby will root for today in the Superbowl - the NY Giants or the NE Patriots? Dave's a Jets fan (please give him a little love, as he is disappointed season after season). I haven't decided whom to root for yet - the underdogs? Or support a team that's chasing perfection? I think I'll wait until kickoff to pledge my allegiance.

But the baby... the baby lets itself be known at certain times. The baby loves Professor Kelder, who makes funny voices when describing Constitutional Criminal Procedure Supreme Court Cases. The baby is silent when I talk in class. The baby thinks Neil Young songs played by Dave on the guitar are incredible. The baby doesn't seem to care for the radio. So we're going to have a little experiment today to determine how this baby roots in the Superbowl contest. Will baby flip for Tom Brady? Punch me in the ribs after Eli Manning makes a pass? We'll see what happens, and whether baby's responses lead to Superbowl victory. (If this works, Dave and I are heading to the Turning Stone Casino tonight to gamble! I'll never be a gambler, but maybe baby knows something I don't about roulette?)

Welcome to the Third Trimester!

Here we are! The third trimester! Hooray!

This information means the following:
1. We attend ob appointments every two weeks until the end of March, and then our appointments occur every week until delivery
2. We only have 12 weeks to go (give or take)
3. I'll probably gain about 1 lb a week from now on
4. The baby has a very good chance of surviving if born at this point
5. We have a lot to do from now until then

Today we had an ob appointment, and I've gained twenty pounds since August. That explains why my back is so sore -- all that weight is right out front. I feel bad for men with big beer bellies. But not as bad as I feel for pregnant women!

We also learned that my stomach is measuring at 30 weeks rather than 28 weeks. No one has really explained what that means, nor is this the first time we've been told as much. At our 20 week sonogram the baby was measuring at 21.5 weeks, but they decided not to change our due date. Today I again asked if they would change our due date, to which we were told no. So what's the point of being told we're measuring two weeks farther along??? I don't really know. The problem with today's medical technology is definitely TMI -- too much information. I'm glad they tell us so much, but then I wonder what I'm supposed to get out of the information, besides concern and curiosity. I'm not worried about this new info, but I am a little tired of being told medical info to which there is no point. If the info could help me plan my school schedule a little better and be better prepared in the event I went into labor two weeks early, then I would welcome the news. But to receive this info and then be told, "It's just something to be aware of," strikes me as false. Why should I be aware of it if I'm not supposed to DO anything with the info? Besides write grumpy rumblings on our baby blog???

A Little Blues Does a Baby Good

Saturday evening Dave and I met up with some friends in Homer, NY, for a blues concert by Duke Robillard. We brought our very pregnant friend, Kira, with us. It was Saturday and she was due on Sunday. Her partner, Jason, couldn't come because he had work to do, so we didn't think she'd want to come, either. Oh, but we were wrong. Kira was hoping that a little live music might force her unborn child to boogie down the birth canal.

So imagine what it looks like to have Dave enter a blues club with not one, but two noticeably pregnant women on his arm. This might be good or bad for his reputation, depending on your idea of what a reputation actually does for a person in a place like Homer, NY.

The music was a big hit with both in utero babies - lots of kicking and squirming and knocking around the walls of the uterus. And after the show, Kira admitted that her stomach felt a little funny, and not just because she'd eaten a whole bunch of yogurt-covered raisins. But as of the time of this publication, Kira & Jason's baby has not been born - at least not to our knowledge. I'm sure we won't be the first to find out, after all. But a little blues does a baby good.

My favorite stanza by Mr. Robillard is the following:

"Fish make love underwater,

Worms make love underground,

Rats make love in the garbage can,

So woman, don't turn me down!"

A Brief List of Updates

Just to keep you up-to-date:

1. Today is the beginning of week 27 - it's the last week of the Second Trimester!

2. I had a 3 hour fasting glucose test last week, and I passed with flying colors! This test diagnoses gestational diabetes, which is a growing concern for pregnant women. Special thanks to Dave for always making me eat my vegetables - it helps that he makes such great food. Last night he made his first sauerbrauten roast with cabbage and potatoes... what a feast!

3. In the past week both Dave and I have dreamt about the baby as a human being, and both of us have attached a face to the baby in our dreams. It seems strange to dream about someone's face whom you haven't even met.

4. I can no longer read aloud - I become winded and start panting like I just raced up the stairs two-at-a-time. My lungs are squished!

5. We bought a crib. It was becoming an existential dilemma, but then we asked our landlord John point-blank what he thought, and he gave us some very sound advice: all new cribs are built with safety in mind, so go with what you like. It was a good thing we went ahead and ordered the crib, too - it takes 10-12 weeks for delivery, which in my book is cutting it a little close.

6. We are starting a baby registry, but we aren't going to tell you the site yet. I need to tweak a few things first.

7. My uterus is the size of a basketball, which is exactly what I look like. A basketball with four limbs and a head. Today I tried on four different shirts while getting dressed, and when Dave asked what was taking so long, I told him that I felt like a lump. He said, "You don't feel cute and pregnant and adorable, which is what you are?" I reiterated that, no, in fact, I felt like a lump. But it's nice to know that my husband isn't thinking, "Why is there a lump in my bed?"

No More Feet

It's official! I can no longer see my feet when I stand up. And yesterday I could barely put on my socks - Dave came into the bedroom to see what all the noise was about, and there I was, huffing and puffing and trying my hardest to pull up my ski socks for our cold walk to the Syracuse Basketball game from our house. And I'm not doing that much better with my winter boots.

What I've discovered is that the belly with the baby in it is not in any way like a belly with extra fat on it - the baby belly is hard and unmovable and like an extra limb. I cannot squeeze by people's chairs in restaurants or suck it in when I lean over. It is large and in charge. As is the little person inside.

The Toilet Seat vs. the Baby

The toilet seat is broken. Suddenly, somehow, based on increased use or increased weight or some other factor, the toilet seat cracked. (Insert pregnant lady joke here)

Our landlord, John, came right over with a new, improved one. I apologized for breaking the toilet seat, and of course, he said he understood, since his wife just gave birth in September. (Insert another pregnant lady joke here)

I feel bad. I broke the toilet seat. Baby 1, Toilet Seat 0.

Our First Childbirth Prep Class

Last night was our first childbirth preparation class, hosted by the hospital where we will eventually give birth. We did icebreakers about the best part of being pregnant (one guy said all the cute maternity outfits his wife now wears, and everyone replied, "Awwwwww.") and we practiced some relaxation exercises on the floor and we watched a video of a birth. The best part of the video was that the mom and dad were from Boston and they constantly said, "Wicked," in total sincerity, like, "Honey, this contraction is wicked bad," and "Sitting in the shower while being in labor was a wicked good idea."

But then we saw the actual birth, and whoa. The mom was pushing and then the dad saw the head of the baby and started crying and then the baby was pulled out and placed immediately on mom's belly and mom was crying. Since all the people in the video were crying, I began crying, but then the video was over immediately and the presenter turned on the lights and I had snot and tears all over my face. I looked wicked glamorous.

The best part of the class: staring at all the pregnant bellies and comparing due dates with belly sizes. And not being the only pregnant lady in a group of people.

The worst part of the class: being asked to share our bodily changes with everyone, and when I mentioned that my breasts leak (not a lot, but often, and I have to keep washing my pjs more frequently than I would like) there was a nice, deafening silence. Apparently we can watch babies be pushed out of women's vaginas, but we cannot talk about leaking breasts. Hmph.

Classes run for 5 weeks, and are 2.5 hours every Sunday night. So if we're not around on a Sunday night, it's because we're trying to learn something about newborns and delivery and labor. And we're trying to make some friends, even if I am the pariah known as the woman with the leaking breasts. I hope another couple will want to sit with us next week. Otherwise I'll be wicked sad.

NEWS FLASH: Baby Joins the Traveling Wilburys

We've been living in a Traveling Wilburys world lately - Dave bought me the CD/DVD collection of the greatest musical supergroup that ever existed for my birthday, and we play it pretty much nonstop now. [For those who don't know, the Traveling Wilburys consisted of (from left to right) Bob Dylan, Jeff Lynne, Tom Petty, George Harrison, and Roy Orbison, and they put out their music in the late 80s/early 90s]

So today I came home from the clinic office to find that Dave had learned not one, but two Wilburys' songs on the guitar. The songs were a little rusty (after all, he had just learned them), but as soon as Dave started playing, we were singing and having our very own Traveling Wilburys concert.

And the baby, who had been so quietly hanging out in utero today as I went to court and won a custody case (yay for my client!) and then completed a whole bunch of paperwork, etc, etc (oh, the glamorous life of an attorney)... the baby, after being quiet all day, suddenly was pushing against my belly like his/her ear was pressed right up to the side. Dave and I sang, and baby was PRESENT. This is interesting to me, because baby wasn't kicking or moving, just THERE. All day baby had been hanging around and I couldn't tell you where baby was located, but as soon as the guitar came out and the singalong began, baby was as far forward in the uterus as he/she can get. If baby could have pushed through to the other side, baby would have been rocking out with us.

I've read that at this stage of pregnancy, a fetus's hearing is developed enough that it can respond to sudden noises (like it'll suddenly startle at the scary part of the movie because of the music). But this was different - baby was responding to the guitar/singing, which I guess I could argue is a sudden noise, but we were no louder than the hair dryer, and baby doesn't give a poop about hair dryers. But baby has let it be known that guitars are different, especially if there's singing involved... and especially if it's my first love (Dave) imitating my second love (Tom Petty).

Quack, quack.

I'm standing in line at the post office, waiting to buy stamps because the self-service stamp machine never has anything in it. I think everyone is staring at me. I try to seem sunny and upbeat and famous, but really I feel self-conscious. Everyone can see that I am pregnant. And everyone is just dying for me to do something "pregnant-y" - like on a sitcom, where suddenly I cannot stop from eating a giant ice cream cone with a pickle on top, or my water breaking while I stand in line. But I am just buying stamps. I am not doing anything "pregnant-y." Unless you count the way I siddle up to the counter, hips swinging, legs apart, like a Western High Nooner getting ready for a shoot-out.

I know that I am beginning to waddle, and remembering how I used to quack at my step-mother when she was pregnant with my brother, it seems like just desserts if someone quacks when I waddle by.

I'm glad that I don't have a white feather coat, or orange sneakers. Because then I really would be mistaken for a duck.

In 4th grade I wrote a short-story about waking up and discovering I had turned into a duck (very Kafka-esque), and in that story I had to waddle all the way to school with webbed feet. I don't have webbed feet, but I have waddling down pat. Dave says I look cute waddling around, but Dave thinks I look cute when I brush my teeth, too, so perhaps he isn't the best judge.

Then I come into the law school clinic on Monday, and the administrative assistant who is also pregnant and due around the same time tells me that she is suddenly so famished that she would eat a whole lasagna for breakfast.

I am hungry, but I wouldn't eat a pan of lasagna for breakfast. Not even for lunch. But I do like bready things, and I will eat any bread item if so presented, including cookie crumbles or stale crackers... and ducks like bready things, especially crumbled, stale items... ergo, I am a duck. Quack, quack.

Arlo vs. the Baby

I am sitting on the couch, reading a book. Arlo is sitting on top of the belly, enjoying the nice big pillow of my body.

Suddenly, the baby kicks him, right in the bum. Arlo looks over his shoulder, but there's nothing there. Then the baby kicks again, and Arlo, perturbed, jumps down from my lap and goes over to Dave, where he can have nice, quiet lap-time.

The baby wins. Baby 1, Arlo 0.

Happy New Year!

We hope you're excited for 2008 - to say we're excited might be an understatement!

Baby is growing, I am growing... in the past eleven days I have changed shape substantially (pictures are forthcoming after we return to Syracuse)- there's no doubt anymore that when a stranger sees me, they know I'm a pregnant person. Baby's foot (head? hand? who knows!) sometimes gets shoved under my rib (very uncomfortable), but I have discovered that if I jump around or lay on my left side, baby will move into a better position and leave my ribs alone.

I am trying to get Dave to put on a little baby belly, but so far, no luck.