Being an expectant parent brings with it countless new things to worry about, from whether you're capable of handling gut-wrenching parenting decisions to whether there will be enough cash on hand to buy bottles and baby powder. Nothing new or profound there.
But I've got a more practical concern. Essentially, it's this: When the time comes to leave the hospital with the newborn, and then in the ensuing months, I'll have no clue how to actually transport said newborn when I'm out.
Do you carry the car seat? Do you just carry the baby? How about a stroller? What about one of those new-age swaddled baby slings? Why not just put the baby in a grocery store basket, next to bananas and atop a soft loaf of bread?
I'm sure that'll get figured out soon enough, but for now I'm baffled.
We went to a baby store the other day and looked at strollers. Actually, they might as well be called Offspring Hauling Systems because they act as car seats, baby carriers and strollers, and are far more complicated than I would have imagined. Harness contraptions vary, handles are adjustable and I think some even offer sun shields that automatically tilt to accommodate for the changing angle of the sun at different times of the year.
I started looking at another group of strollers, ones hanging from a bin. But it was brought to my attention that you can't just transport the baby in Ol' Rickety from the day you leave the hospital. Ol' Rickety, you ask? That's one of those basic, compact, old-school, collapsing strollers. The informed call them umbrella strollers. They're the opposite of Offspring Hauling Systems.
Anni laughed when I only half-jokingly asked whether you can save money by just starting with Ol' Rickety and, if the baby's head tips to a side, just prop a stuffed animal next to each ear.
My recent attempts to visualize scenarios I'll find myself in after the baby's born prompted this very practical question: If I take the child with me on a quick trip to, say, Menard's, and I set the car seat/carrier on the ground next to me while paying at the register, will women gasp and wonder how a man can treat his child like a bucket of paint?
Monday, November 24, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
An early sign
As the ultrasound continued longer than normal this morning, we started developing a theory: Bun's got a fair amount of Anni's genes, because it was being difficult.
The doc requested the ultrasound to get a good look at the heart, specifically the arch. (Don't bother Googling "arch of heart" to find out what it is; you'll get YouTube video of and lyrics to the band Arch Enemy's "Heart of Darkness.") Anyway, it was nothing to be concerned about; it's just that the previous ultrasound didn't allow for a good view of the heart.
We thought it'd be easier this time around. Bun had other plans.
Let me back up. Before we even got into the exam room, Anni said she learned something about me. It came about when I started quietly singing along to a '90s country song playing on the waiting room radio. It was the only country tune to which I sort of know the words; however, she now is convinced I'm a closet country fan. Relevance to the ultrasound story? Not much, but Anni thinks she discovered a deep, dark secret. Whatever.
Not long after the ultrasound started, there was tension. Not between us, but between our nurse and another nurse who walked in about 10 minutes into the process. We eventually learned Nurse 1 is retraining in the ultrasound unit after toiling with gall bladders for years. (It made me wonder if, without our knowledge, she was actually using the ultrasound wand to check out Anni's gall bladder.)
Once the more experienced nurse (who broke the news that we had been dealing with a trainee) got involved, things improved. They checked Bun's heart rate: 140. They estimated Bun's weight: A healthy 2 lbs 3 oz. They measured Bun's legs: Long.
And, unfortunately for Anni, they made her roll around on the butcher-paper-covered table like a beached whale (her description, definitely not mine) as they tried desperately to get a good view of the heart. No luck. So, Bun's heartless. No, no, it' s just that the spine was in the way -- and Bun wasn't cooperating, laying sideways and nudging the bottom of Anni's rib cage.
They said there was nothing to worry about, though, which is good to know because it would have been a drag to leave the office thinking Anni was carrying around a baby with a giant spine.
So, it was good news again today, thankfully.
Here are two photos. I got spoiled by the good pictures from the last ultrasound, but this all we got today.
The first is obvious: Head on the right, belly and back on the bottom left, legs and arms at top left.
The second is a shot of the legs, which seem long. (My genes for height, I hope.)
The doc requested the ultrasound to get a good look at the heart, specifically the arch. (Don't bother Googling "arch of heart" to find out what it is; you'll get YouTube video of and lyrics to the band Arch Enemy's "Heart of Darkness.") Anyway, it was nothing to be concerned about; it's just that the previous ultrasound didn't allow for a good view of the heart.
We thought it'd be easier this time around. Bun had other plans.
Let me back up. Before we even got into the exam room, Anni said she learned something about me. It came about when I started quietly singing along to a '90s country song playing on the waiting room radio. It was the only country tune to which I sort of know the words; however, she now is convinced I'm a closet country fan. Relevance to the ultrasound story? Not much, but Anni thinks she discovered a deep, dark secret. Whatever.
Not long after the ultrasound started, there was tension. Not between us, but between our nurse and another nurse who walked in about 10 minutes into the process. We eventually learned Nurse 1 is retraining in the ultrasound unit after toiling with gall bladders for years. (It made me wonder if, without our knowledge, she was actually using the ultrasound wand to check out Anni's gall bladder.)
Once the more experienced nurse (who broke the news that we had been dealing with a trainee) got involved, things improved. They checked Bun's heart rate: 140. They estimated Bun's weight: A healthy 2 lbs 3 oz. They measured Bun's legs: Long.
And, unfortunately for Anni, they made her roll around on the butcher-paper-covered table like a beached whale (her description, definitely not mine) as they tried desperately to get a good view of the heart. No luck. So, Bun's heartless. No, no, it' s just that the spine was in the way -- and Bun wasn't cooperating, laying sideways and nudging the bottom of Anni's rib cage.
They said there was nothing to worry about, though, which is good to know because it would have been a drag to leave the office thinking Anni was carrying around a baby with a giant spine.
So, it was good news again today, thankfully.
Here are two photos. I got spoiled by the good pictures from the last ultrasound, but this all we got today.
The first is obvious: Head on the right, belly and back on the bottom left, legs and arms at top left.
The second is a shot of the legs, which seem long. (My genes for height, I hope.)
Thursday, November 20, 2008
New pics, ultrasoon
We're headed to an ultrasound Friday morning. I'll post some pics afterward.
I'm just hoping the nurse understands my appreciation for good ultrasound photos, lest I embarrass myself again by telling her when to capture the image on screen.
I'm just hoping the nurse understands my appreciation for good ultrasound photos, lest I embarrass myself again by telling her when to capture the image on screen.
Turning Japanese?
It was time for a new photo on the blog. What better choice than one of Anni and Bun draped in the kimono Bryan bought for her in Japan two years ago?The photo's actually a nod to the uncle-to-be, who's touring Japan again for the next few weeks and hasn't had a glimpse of Anni's expanding belly.
Anni's message to Bryan: "Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto."
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Finally
At last, it happened.
No, I didn't get a good feel of Bun yet. Anni had a craving the other night. She wanted chocolate.
Thrilled, I jumped at the chance to go to the grocery store. Finally, a supermarket run that didn't involve zig-zagging through the aisles, selecting bananas, beans and bread.
So I rushed to the store before it closed, found ice cream and some chocolate.
Then the following exchange occurred:
"Ooh, ice cream tonight," Old Cashier Lady said. "That sounds good."
"Well, actually, my wife is pregnant and had a craving for chocolate," I said.
"Oh, that's nice of you," Old Cashier Lady said.
"Well, it's for me, too," I said.
No, I didn't get a good feel of Bun yet. Anni had a craving the other night. She wanted chocolate.
Thrilled, I jumped at the chance to go to the grocery store. Finally, a supermarket run that didn't involve zig-zagging through the aisles, selecting bananas, beans and bread.
So I rushed to the store before it closed, found ice cream and some chocolate.
Then the following exchange occurred:
"Ooh, ice cream tonight," Old Cashier Lady said. "That sounds good."
"Well, actually, my wife is pregnant and had a craving for chocolate," I said.
"Oh, that's nice of you," Old Cashier Lady said.
"Well, it's for me, too," I said.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
A sign of nothing but a healthy heart
Anni and The Belly had a doctor's appointment the other day. Anni's mom and aunt tagged along, and got a kick out of hearing the heart beat.
Bun's heart rate was 138. And before I get any further, let's get this out of the way: I don't believe for a second that ol' wive's tale about the heart rate indicating gender, so don't give me that, "Oh, it's got to be a boy," business because it's under 150. Actually, the doc made a good -- and obvious -- point. The baby's heart rate can be affected by a number of factors, including Anni's physical activity. So, maybe she was just lazy that day.
The Belly has grown from 21 centimeters to 27 centimeters -- however that's calculated. (When I heard the 27-centimeter measurement, I asked if that was how much Anni was dialated. It's fun to play the ignorant one every once in a while.)
The most important part of the check-up, however, came when the doc wanted to talk about me and the just-completed election.
An ultrasound is scheduled for two weeks, when they'll check the heart valves and maybe even see what books Bun is reading in there.
Bun's heart rate was 138. And before I get any further, let's get this out of the way: I don't believe for a second that ol' wive's tale about the heart rate indicating gender, so don't give me that, "Oh, it's got to be a boy," business because it's under 150. Actually, the doc made a good -- and obvious -- point. The baby's heart rate can be affected by a number of factors, including Anni's physical activity. So, maybe she was just lazy that day.
The Belly has grown from 21 centimeters to 27 centimeters -- however that's calculated. (When I heard the 27-centimeter measurement, I asked if that was how much Anni was dialated. It's fun to play the ignorant one every once in a while.)
The most important part of the check-up, however, came when the doc wanted to talk about me and the just-completed election.
An ultrasound is scheduled for two weeks, when they'll check the heart valves and maybe even see what books Bun is reading in there.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
For the record
Anni has taken to calling her noticeably expanding stomach a "bowl full of jelly."
She knew I was blogging a short time ago and then read the previous blog item and had this response: "I thought you were going to write something about how big my belly is now."
Maybe sometime.
She knew I was blogging a short time ago and then read the previous blog item and had this response: "I thought you were going to write something about how big my belly is now."
Maybe sometime.
Feel a flutter
We've got movement.
Bun's making a daily habit of reminding us there's really something in there. Anni will be resting on the couch and say, "Baby's really moving," or she'll come home from work and say the baby was bouncing around in there during the day.
It's not to the point where an elbow or leg is pushing out on her belly, but there's movement. Anni said it feels like an upset stomach -- without the upset stomach part of it. Got that?
Anyway, the important part of the story is that I finally felt the baby the other night. (Yep, it's all about me.)
Anni said the baby was really moving, so I put my palm on her stomach and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Then, all of the sudden, I felt a brief, ever-so-subtle flutter of pressure on my hand.
And then, just as quickly, it was gone.
Bun's making a daily habit of reminding us there's really something in there. Anni will be resting on the couch and say, "Baby's really moving," or she'll come home from work and say the baby was bouncing around in there during the day.
It's not to the point where an elbow or leg is pushing out on her belly, but there's movement. Anni said it feels like an upset stomach -- without the upset stomach part of it. Got that?
Anyway, the important part of the story is that I finally felt the baby the other night. (Yep, it's all about me.)
Anni said the baby was really moving, so I put my palm on her stomach and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Then, all of the sudden, I felt a brief, ever-so-subtle flutter of pressure on my hand.
And then, just as quickly, it was gone.
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