No doubt the "What to Expect When You're Expecting" book has been invaluable to millions of pregnant women, Anni included.
But that's not the book that has fascinated me.
Nope, the science geek in me has gotten a kick out of a book my mom gave us. It's called "The Miraculous World of Your Unborn Baby."
Yes, it has fewer pages. And yes, there are lots of color pictures, but they're the scientific-stuff-in-a-microscope-type photos.
Paging through the book serves as a refresher course in Human Biology: 101. And since biology became my college minor instead of major for a reason -- "You don't get into grad school with C's," my advisor said -- I definitely could use the review.
The science behind pregnancy really is fascinating. From gender determination to the sheer number of ducks that need to be in a row for a pregnancy to occur -- I was a biology minor, but struggled with those fancy terms -- I'm intrigued.
So, while it's nice to know Bun's the size of a spaghetti squash this week -- no joke, that's what "What to Expect" says -- I'm still stuck on my book's photos of actual chromosomes.
The funniest picture, though, is of a swimmer landing on an egg. It looks like a spacecraft with a banner trailing behind has just landed on mars.
How's that for a failed biologist's explanation of fertilization?
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
What won't he sleep through?
My parents readily admit they may have goofed by allowing me to fall asleep to the sound of the TV. I don't remember that, but then again, I don't remember wearing a diaper, either, and the two probably happened about the same time.
Anyway, I learned from an early age to sleep through just about anything. Fireworks, fire engines, the alarm clock, thunderstorms, two alarm clocks and even a car-meets-telephone-pole crash right outside the house.
I've gotten better at waking to the alarm, but I still sleep soundly through the night. Anni can vouch for that, especially following the episode the other night.
She woke about 3 a.m. with a nasty cramp in her left leg -- the kind that makes you jump from bed and scream in pain. She did both.
The next day, she asked if I remember anything strange happening the previous night. Did I remember her jumping out of bed?
I vaguely remembered that. She filled in the details:
Apparently, my response to her yelping and one-legged hopping was simply to make some sort of grunting noise. Anni then told me there wasn't anything wrong with the baby, she just had a leg cramp.
"And all you did was grunt one more time and turn over," she said later. "You didn't even acknowledge me."
They say you learn to wake up instantly to the sound of a crying newborn. We'll see about that.
Anyway, I learned from an early age to sleep through just about anything. Fireworks, fire engines, the alarm clock, thunderstorms, two alarm clocks and even a car-meets-telephone-pole crash right outside the house.
I've gotten better at waking to the alarm, but I still sleep soundly through the night. Anni can vouch for that, especially following the episode the other night.
She woke about 3 a.m. with a nasty cramp in her left leg -- the kind that makes you jump from bed and scream in pain. She did both.
The next day, she asked if I remember anything strange happening the previous night. Did I remember her jumping out of bed?
I vaguely remembered that. She filled in the details:
Apparently, my response to her yelping and one-legged hopping was simply to make some sort of grunting noise. Anni then told me there wasn't anything wrong with the baby, she just had a leg cramp.
"And all you did was grunt one more time and turn over," she said later. "You didn't even acknowledge me."
They say you learn to wake up instantly to the sound of a crying newborn. We'll see about that.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Holy flip!
Tonight Anni said she felt the baby movin' around for the first time.
Initially she wondered if her stomach was upset, but it was a different feeling.
"It was like it flipped," she said.
I tried to cop a feel of the flippin' fetus, but was told I wouldn't be able to feel it yet. A few more weeks, though, and I'm sure I'll get my chance.
Initially she wondered if her stomach was upset, but it was a different feeling.
"It was like it flipped," she said.
I tried to cop a feel of the flippin' fetus, but was told I wouldn't be able to feel it yet. A few more weeks, though, and I'm sure I'll get my chance.
Friday, October 3, 2008
'It's all in there'
More on the ultrasound--
We went to the clinic Wednesday morning and assumed the positions: Anni on the doctor's table, me on a crummy stool nearby.
We'd been told the ultrasound was going to take up to an hour because of all the measurements needed: brain (It's got one!), head, arms, legs and even heart chambers.
That would have been fine with me because an ultrasound is fascinating to watch. Clinics seriously should record them and sell the videos to the expecting parents. (Who wouldn't pop $10 for that?)
Anyway, much to my disappointment, the ultrasound lasted about 15 minutes. The nurse didn't say much during the procedure, leaving us to ask basic. (It was strange to learn earlier on that the intestines develop in the umbilical cord and then at some point shoot down the tube and into place.)
I asked whether, at this stage, all of the organs are where they're supposed to be.
"It's all in there," the nurse told us, sparing any technical term or explanation. "It just needs to get bigger."
And good thing because Bun still looks a bit alienish. In a good way, of course.
We could see the heart pumpin' away (144 at an appointment the following day) and see occasional leg and arm movements.
At one point I thought Bun did a flip during the ultrasound. Turns out the nurse just moved the wand from one side of Anni's belly to the other. Oh, well.
It was brought to my attention after the appointment that I may have been a bit too eager during the procedure to let the nurse know when there was a good view that should be recorded for a photograph. (They give you about five or six prints on your way out.)
"Ooh! There's a good one," I'd say quietly, hoping the nurse had clicked print.
She didn't listen to me, but we still got some nice pics to take home. Two are below. The first is pretty straightforward, the second was a photo meant to highlight the spine, which was measured during the procedure.
After posting these photos, Anni told me that her cousin Greta had this to say about the above spine photo: "It looks like a chicken wing." Well, then.
We went to the clinic Wednesday morning and assumed the positions: Anni on the doctor's table, me on a crummy stool nearby.
We'd been told the ultrasound was going to take up to an hour because of all the measurements needed: brain (It's got one!), head, arms, legs and even heart chambers.
That would have been fine with me because an ultrasound is fascinating to watch. Clinics seriously should record them and sell the videos to the expecting parents. (Who wouldn't pop $10 for that?)
Anyway, much to my disappointment, the ultrasound lasted about 15 minutes. The nurse didn't say much during the procedure, leaving us to ask basic. (It was strange to learn earlier on that the intestines develop in the umbilical cord and then at some point shoot down the tube and into place.)
I asked whether, at this stage, all of the organs are where they're supposed to be.
"It's all in there," the nurse told us, sparing any technical term or explanation. "It just needs to get bigger."
And good thing because Bun still looks a bit alienish. In a good way, of course.
We could see the heart pumpin' away (144 at an appointment the following day) and see occasional leg and arm movements.
At one point I thought Bun did a flip during the ultrasound. Turns out the nurse just moved the wand from one side of Anni's belly to the other. Oh, well.
It was brought to my attention after the appointment that I may have been a bit too eager during the procedure to let the nurse know when there was a good view that should be recorded for a photograph. (They give you about five or six prints on your way out.)
"Ooh! There's a good one," I'd say quietly, hoping the nurse had clicked print.
She didn't listen to me, but we still got some nice pics to take home. Two are below. The first is pretty straightforward, the second was a photo meant to highlight the spine, which was measured during the procedure.
After posting these photos, Anni told me that her cousin Greta had this to say about the above spine photo: "It looks like a chicken wing." Well, then.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Week 19
Anni had an ultrasound today. Another great experience. So many questions -- from "Is that a leg?" to "Why does the spine look like a fossil?" -- and yet all I could do was sit there and stare in amazement.More on the ultrasound soon.
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