Things I've Learned

My apologies for the long hiatus – I’ve been a little distracted lately. Here’s a rundown of things I have learned in the last (almost) three weeks.

Wiggle worm

Babies (or at least mine) are like Houdini. Alex can wiggle his way out of any swaddle; no matter how tight or what kind of blanket (even the Miracle Blanket). He even looks like a magician, working with a quiet concentration. Then, once he’s got a foot or a hand out, he starts screaming like a banshee. We’re thinking of upgrading to a straight jacket complete with buckles.

Dad was right

Though it’s a cliché, it’s totally true: You truly do not know how much you can love something until you become a parent. It’s incredible the amount of love you feel for this tiny being when it is only seconds old. I guess this surge of unconditional love is necessary early on to help you cope with what comes later. I’m sure when Alex reaches his terrible twos, his ferocious fours, or his treacherous thirteens (alliteration doesn’t really fly with that number), I’ll feel differently. But for now he’s perfect and could do no wrong.

Birth plans

You know the saying “Expect the unexpected”? Well, when it comes to giving birth, I say: Expect nothing! Because if you make a stringent birth plan, chances are nothing with go according to that plan and your will be sorely disappointed – or worse – left feeling like a failure. The pregnancy books are right (at least the good ones) when they say that if you give birth to a healthy baby, consider it a complete success. Several weeks ago I was toying with the idea of trying to give birth without an epidural. But looking back, I know had I been 100% committed to that idea, the experience would have been much more difficult. The time between my water breaking and Alex’s arrival was 31 hours. The only way I had enough energy to push that little boy out of me was because I had had a good, solid nap in which I got the best sleep I have had in years. The only way I got such good, restful sleep was because I had been given an epidural that not only relieved the pain from the contractions, but eliminated the back pain that had been plaguing me (and robbing me of much-needed sleep) for the past six months. The point of this ramble is this: it is ok to have an idea of what you would like to experience and educate yourself on various options, but know that a healthy delivery (for both baby and mom) is the ultimate measure of success. Ok, I’m off my soapbox.

Breastfeeding

Ok, I’m back on my soapbox. I always heard that breastfeeding can be difficult. I thought it was just because it was painful (sore nipples, engorgement, cracked areolas, ouch!). Now I know there are a lot more factors that come into play; the nursing books just don’t address them. They just simply talk about how important breastfeeding is and that if it hurts, you’re doing it wrong. They just seem to say: “As soon as baby is born, put her to breast and you’ll feed happily ever after.” They don’t talk about the possibility that your baby may be on an IV for the first two days, or that you may develop some condition that requires medication that interferes with breastfeeding, or that your baby may be so lethargic she will not stay awake long enough to consume an adequate amount of calories, or that ... you get my point. Those books need to say “hey, it doesn’t come easy and it’s ok if you have to bottle or formula feed – as long as you’re trying your best and your baby is gaining weight and healthy, you’re being the best mom in the world!” I’m thinking about making a career change to inspirational author/realist. If you know a good agent, call me.

Nurses

Nurses are amazing people; at least the ones who went out of their way to make my time at EAMC as comfortable and reassuring as possible. There was the delivery nurse, who screamed “push baby, push!” like it was nobody’s business; and it worked like a charm. There was the nurse in the pain clinic who got mad when she found out they made me walk downstairs instead of wheeling me down because I had been discharged already. She also called me on my cell phone twice to make sure my spinal headaches were gone and Alex was doing well. Then there was the lactation specialist who stayed at work an hour late two days in a row to work with me on breastfeeding. She also loaded me up with oodles of nipples, devices to help with feeding, and her cell number. And many others who took good care of my baby and made my week in the hospital a pleasant experience.

Mom’s intuition

Intuition is as important as medical expertise. I knew my water had broken, even though the litmus test, the ultrasound, and the pelvic exam showed otherwise. I knew my baby was ready to come out, even though the readings on the monitors suggested I had hours to go. I learned that even if I wasn’t going to speak up, it’s helpful to have people around you who will. Sticking to your guns is a lot easier when you have a strong support system in place.

Pain

Epidurals are wonderful.

More pain

Blood patches suck (especially when you need two). But spinal headaches suck worse.

Privacy

Notions of privacy are completely skewed during and after the labor and delivery process. You know when the 80-year-old male volunteer who delivers the newspaper and the 19-year-old girl who picks up the meal tray have both seen you pumping, the line between what’s appropriate and what’s not has become blurred.

Poopy diapers, spit up, and crying – oh my!

It really is different when it’s your kid. Andy has always been grossed out by stuff like poop and vomit. He can hardly clean up after our pets (actually, he usually gets me, his friends, or the mailman to do it; kidding!). But with Alex, he handles butt explosions like a pro. When I worked at the day care, I was always most grossed out by spit up. I don’t know why; maybe it’s the weird sour smell or that it inevitably ends up on your shirt. But with Alex, I don’t get grossed out, I just get worried; is he ok? Is he sick? Does he have acid reflux? Same goes with crying. Other people’s kids are annoying when they cry, but with your own, you just want to do whatever it takes to get him comfy and happy.

Bodily changes

Early in my pregnancy someone I barely knew (who apparently shares the Dawson/Frew affinity for frankness) told me that my body would never be the same after having a baby. It looks like she wasn’t kidding. My wedding rings no longer fit, my belly button is twice as wide, my boobs are three times bigger, I now have a linea negra (isn’t that supposed to appear before you have a baby, not after?), and my tummy … well, let’s wait a few months before we make that call. Regardless, I still think the human body is a pretty amazing creation. I either breastfeed or pump every 2-3 hours, but the last couple nights I’ve skipped one feeding each night to catch extra winks (don’t worry, Andy is feeding Alex during those times). And each morning after I have done this, my boobs have been swollen and sore. It’s amazing that my body is so in tune with what’s going on that skipping just one feeding is enough to get my supply out of whack.

Mommy!

I love being a mommy. I never considered myself motherly and at one point even wondered if I ever wanted kids (hey, all high schoolers are dumb). But now Andy and I can’t imagine our life without Alex in it. There is something so satisfying about being able to calm Alex down if he is fussing just by holding him close to me. I could stare at his sweet face all day long. I am already hating the first girl he kisses, the first bully who picks on him, and the first boss who fires him. He is my baby; I have a SON!

Final note

Thanks to all our wonderful family and friends for their many thoughts, prayers, words of encouragement, and gifts! If we have not called or written to thank you personally, please know it’s probably because we’re too exhausted to remember who we have and haven’t spoken to in the last week (or hour). We’re not very busy right now (we mostly just sack out in front of the TV between feedings and diaper changes), but we are a little tired. Please don’t hesitate to give us a call. Hope everyone has a happy holiday!

Oh no

Hours after posting my last blog, I was removing my socks and discovered ... the beginnings of cankles!!! Damn my optimism. Now, they are nowhere near full-blown cankles, but the bones protrude a little less. It's not like the time I stood in an ant hill and ended up with footballs at the bottom of my legs, but I still have a month to go. Maybe this time I'll end up with rugby balls!! (For Southerners who have never seen a rugby ball, imagine a more round football.)

I'm SO ready; I'm so NOT ready

I've gotten to the point in my pregnancy where co-workers, relatives, strangers, etc., are starting to make the comment: "I bet you're ready, huh?" I don't know if it's the sleepiness in my eyes or the stoop in my posture, but I guess they think I just look like I've had enough. For the most part, they are right. I cannot remember the last night of decent sleep I have had in a long time. I know, I know, that's not going to get much better once the baby comes. But at least I'll have something to do while I'm awake in the middle of the night besides pee and try (fruitlessly) to find a comfy position. Andy is under the weather right now and last night his snoring was pretty loud. I went to the living room to seek peace and quiet. Then the cat started scratching at something. And it was raining outside ('bout time). Normally I sleep well when it rains, but I kept hearing some sort of dripping noise. So after half an hour of trying to decide whether to locate the source of the noise, I went into the guestroom to sleep. I had forgotten that all of the baby supplies we cannot/have not found room for in the nursery were piled on the bed. So were the large vases we had moved out of the living room to make room for the Christmas tree. So were the Halloween decorations we had pulled out, but never put up. So at 4 a.m. this morning I was hauling ceramics, a baby carrier, ghosts, a giant spider, a play yard, a bouncer, among other things. I still got crappy sleep. Enough complaining about sleeplessness. Here are a few reasons I'm ready - and not ready - to have this baby.

Reasons I'm Ready

1. I've already gained the recommended 30 pounds.

2. Although I love my job, it sure would be nice to stop working.

3. I'm seriously starting to stress and if the baby came now, it would be ok that everything is in a state of chaos - that's parenthood - otherwise it's called being unprepared.

4. I haven't developed cankles and I would really love it if I never did.

5. Even some of my maternity shirts no longer stretch far enough out front to cover my belly.

6. Moments of hysterical crying are becoming more regular and I feel like I'm totally losing control at times. Sullivan ate my cookie last night and you would have thought I was experiencing the apocalypse.

Reasons I'm NOT Ready

1. I have a presentation to give at a conference next week and another conference paper to write for one in February (don't worry, I'm not going, it's in Dallas). Pray I don't go into labor during my presentation next week. Tuskegee may only be 20 miles away, but I'm sure that's a long way to drive when you're having contractions.

2. To be completely honest, I really do like having a nice, round belly. It is liberating in some ways.

3. I still have oodles of reading to do to prepare me for D-Day and the rest of motherhood.

4. I still haven't packed my overnight bag. I bought a pink Under Armor gym bag and I'm totally psyched about using all the pockets. Did I just sound like a 13-year-old or what?

5. The nursery is still not quite done. The walls are a little bare and I cannot find a hamper I like. Who knew it would be so hard to find something that will hold clothes soiled with all manner of bodily fluids (and probably not-so-fluids)?

6. The house is a bit of a disaster. Not the whole house, mainly just the bedroom closet and the office. And the previously-mentioned guestroom. Definitely not ready for gracious grandparents-to-be who have offered their services.

My Husband is Awesome

Andy is on his way to D.C. right now. He has a Society for Human Resource Management leadership training conference thing. He'll be back late Saturday night. Sullivan, baby and I miss him already. The cats haven't noticed his absence (they're mean like that). But I thought I would share why my husband is the best husband in the world. Before he left this afternoon he did several things for me: He bought me a Dog Fancy magazine that has Old English Sheepdogs as its cover feature story (he's not a big gift-giver, but when he does give me something, it's always very heartfelt); he installed a hook on the bathroom door to hang the bathrobe I've resorted to wearing on a daily basis before and after work; and he went to the woefully-understaffed Verizon Wireless store and stood in line to argue a $30 fee I insisted we didn't need to pay. I think everyone will agree that last one is kind of a biggie. So, because he is such an awesome husband and will be (already is, actually) a great dad, please keep him in your thoughts and pray he has a safe trip!

Vanity of Dyer

Warning: this blog contains lots of rambling about myself. Hence, the title. But the title is also in honor of Jack Kerouac, whose "On the Road" celebrated its 50th anniversary this year. Kerouac also wrote a book titled "Vanity of Duluoz". I tried reading it, but couldn't quite finish it before the library said I couldn't renew it anymore. That's what I get for being a pretentious 15-year-old trying to read stuff way above my understanding. Maybe I'll give it another shot now that I'm older and wiser (Ha!).

Yay!

I recently found out a friend of mine is pregnant too and I'm absolutely thrilled. Even though being pregnant is an exciting experience, it can be lonely at times. I'm not sure why, I guess because you're going through these emotions and physical changes that no matter how supportive your loved ones are (and believe me, they are), you still feel like you're kind of on your own to deal with the challenges. But, on the other hand, you're also the only one who gets to feel the baby rolling around in your womb, and nothing compares to that! I'm so glad I have someone special to experience all these sensations with.

Stupid Tube

My esophagus has decided to become a pretty useless organ at night and because of heartburn I've resorted to sleeping in a reclined position to keep the contents of my stomach from backing up into my throat. My back continues to cause the most discomfort, but they ordered me a new chair at work, so hopefully that will improve. My current chair is your standard, four-legged chair someone thought graduate students should be confined to as punishment for some reason or another.

We're Not Fat, Lazy Ladies

I now have a deeper understanding of things like the pregnant waddle and the huffing and puffing of prenant ladies. I used to think that it was just because they were carrying around 30 extra pounds and were not in shape. Now I know that it has more to do with the fact their organs are all squished up and competing for blood and oxygen with an ever-growing parasite. Do pregnant ladies really need their own parking spaces at Goody's? Probably not. Should strangers give up their seats on the bus or their spots in crowded elevators? That would be nice. Though, honestly, I probably needed the designated parking or the bus seats more my first trimester when fatigue hit me like a Mack truck. Now I really need the exercise.

49 Days to Go

My torso seems to think that there is simply no more room in there for baby. My rib cage, pelvis, and associated ligaments and tendons don't care that the baby still has six more weeks of growing to do; they think it's unfair they should be forced to deal with this pressure and they're making their complaints known to me. But as my D-Day (delivery day) approaches, I'm starting to get a little freaked out about the birthing process. I'm really struggling with decisions about epidurals and other "interventions." Before I got pregnant, I always said that I wanted to be totally drugged up, no question about it. But now that I've got this thing inside of me and its health has become my number one priority, I don't know what I want. Any kind of intervention (inducing, breaking the "bag of waters," etc.) increases the likelihood of needing further interventions - and of prolonging labor. All interventions have their inherent risks (certain drugs can cross the placenta, for instance); but so does being stubborn and not allowing the doctor to do what he or she thinks is best. Ideally, I'd like to breastfeed as soon as possible after delivery, but if I get a C-section or am completely doped up, I don't know how that fits in with those plans. I know it's probably silly to stress about these decisions because when the time comes, I'll probably not have a whole lot of control over what happens. But I am my father's daughter and I will stress out over that which I do not know nor have any measure of control over. Damn Frew genes. How come I coundn't outgrow these genes the same way I outgrew my blue jeans?

Update

Because I should be working instead of blogging, I'll make this quick. Today I had a doctor's appointment. My weight is at 174.5 pounds, bringing my total weight gain to around 30 pounds (yes, I still have almost two months to go). Baby's heartbeat is at 157 - I thought it was supposed to slow down as it got bigger, but apparently baby takes after mommy in this regard (I've always had a faster heartbeat). Does this mean I'll have an anxious child? My uterus measures 33 centimeters. The doctor said I'm still about a week ahead of schedule (at my last two appointments he said I was ahead of schedule). I told him I hoped that was an indication that I'll deliver early. He just smiled and said "maybe." I'm hoping his smile was sincere and hopeful, not condescending in a "oh, what a silly girl" kind of way. The nurse said the doctor will begin regular pelvic exams around week 36. How sad is it that that got me excited?

In other news, we attended our first birthing class last night. It was pretty much what I expected, complete with cheesy "relaxation" exercise and explicit video. Honestly, the video wasn't that bad, though the part where the doctor held the placenta up to the mother's face was kind of gross. The nurse assured us that isn't standard procedure. I know I certainly don't want to be looking at that thing right after I had a baby (or any other time, for that matter). Next week we get to visit the (brand-new) maternity ward at the hospital. I love field trips!

Our nursery is getting close to being an actual bedroom instead of a storage closet. We've washed all the clothes, blankets, and washclothes. Everybody told us that because we weren't finding out the sex of the baby, we wouldn't get any baby clothes. Boy, were they wrong. We have oodles of 0-3 month clothes. Yes, they are mostly yellow and green, but they are all so precious, who cares! We're waiting on the yellow swivel rocker to be delivered (courtesy of Granny and GG) and once that gets here, I can rearrange the nursery furniture for the 88th (and 89th, 90th, 91st) time. I promise I'll get some pictures up when that time comes. But if I don't, you can't get mad at me. I'm pregnant.

I Swear

Here are a few things I swear I will never do as a parent.

1. I swear I will never let my young child wander through a Wal-Mart parking lot barefoot (older children are on their own; they should know better).

2. I swear I will never take my two-year-old to an R-rated movie full of cussing, subtitles, and gunshot wounds to the head. And, no, covering his face with a shirt when things get a little too gorey does not excuse your decision. On a side note, "The Kingdom" is definitely a movie worth checking out with your adult friends and relatives.

3. I swear I will never apply for the WIC (Women, Infants, and Children) program while driving around my tricked-out, double-cab Ford F150 with tires the size of mini-coopers.

Now that I've been all judgemental and snooty, I'll list the mistakes I fully expect to make as a parent time and time again.

1. I will be hypocritical. I will tell people I will not spoil my child and shower him or her with material items, then go crazy at Target buying things that are oh-my-gosh-that-is-just-too-cute!!!

2. I will lose my temper. Again, and again, and again. I like to think I can maintain my cool at most times, but on occasion, I can lose it. My dad likes to remind me of this on a regular basis (usually in reference to "peeling" out of the driveway). But believe me, it wasn't easy growing up as Chuck's daughter. I just hope my anger and frustration doesn't manifest itself in an unhealthy way - you know, like lashing out at some poor, unsuspecting husband, dog, or whatever innocent creature stands in my way.

3. I will have unrealistic expectations. Just because I quit about three different instruments and five sports does not excuse my child from becoming a baseball/violin/mathematics prodigy. It is my child's responsibility to make up for all my shortcomings otherwise he/she will have to eat dog food and sleep on the roof. I'm kidding! Mostly.

In all seriousness, I know I'm not going to be the worst mom in the world. Probably not the best, but I've been lucky enough to have some good examples to follow. I hope I'm like my mom - always calm and collected, and down-right smart; I hope I'm like Andy's mom - creative and instilling the love of animals into any kid she comes in contact with; and I hope I'm like Ralphie's mom (from "A Christmas Story") - incredibly understanding and forgiving, a doting wife, and not willing to put up with any crap, like the glowing sex lamp.

So Loved

I have never believed that material items can truly display one's love and affection for another. But this last week has presented an awfully strong argument against that standpoint. Last weekend my stepmother and stepsister held a baby shower for Andy and me. It was held in Huntsville at my dad's house. There was food, games, football, alcohol, more food, and the world's biggest cake. It was like an SEC gameday party and a baby shower all rolled into one. My two best friends from high school were there - the first time we've all three gotten together since Lindsey's wedding over three years ago. My uncle and aunt arrived from Atlanta toting a relic from the Frew family past (an awesome rocking horse crafted almost 100 years ago, most likely by the Amish). Dyer family friends from Chattanooga were there with embarassing pictures of pre-teen Andy in hand. And Dad's Sunday School class (including members I've never met before) showed up in droves to show their support. Once everyone left, we were left with a dining room stuffed with gifts (and a long list of Thank You notes to write).

Yesterday, my friend Keesha threw me a surprise baby shower here in Auburn. She got quite a few people in on the gig and, boy, was I surprised. I thought I was just going for an ordinary lunch with my friend Emily, but when I arrived at Ruby Tuesdays, there was a dozen ladies there cheering with balloons, cake, and the whole shebang. I was embarrased and instantly regretted not having showered that morning (don't worry, I at least took a bath the night before). It was fun and they showered Baby Dyer with more gifts (though, I guess that's the point of a 'shower').

So now, after all this showering (of gifts, not me physically), our nursery looks like a baby store exploded in it. We still have a few supplies to get, but it has become clear that our friends and family are not going to let our baby go without plenty of onesies, teething rings, travel accomodations, and soothing play things. We don't know much about our little heaven-sent gift, but we know that he/she is already so loved.

Things I Love, Things I Hate, Part 2

This is a follow up to my initial "Things I Love, Things I Hate" posting (August 23). This time I'll list the things I hate first, so I can end on a happier note.

Things I Hate

Need for sleep. I'm tired of being tired - I'm ready to have a nice, flat belly I can sleep on every night (another reason I don't want a C-section). My belly is too big to sleep on. When I lie on my side my shoulder or my back hurts. I'm not supposed to lie on my back (something about circulation and cutting of the baby's supply of oxygen - scary!). I've tried a variety of pillows in a variety of positions. What's a girl to do?

Superhuman sense of smell. I know I mentioned this in Part 1, but it really deserves a second go-round. Today I went to heat up part of my lunch in the microwave on the second floor of Comer and just about threw up all over myself. Someone had left their lunch in the microwave - it smelled like he or she had disemboweled a cow and tried to cook it in the microwave. Now, normally working with students and professors from around the globe is an enlightening experience, but dang, can some of the food those folks bring in smell funky. Now, for all I know, my Campbell's Soup at Hand can be just as stinky to them as their intestines-and-rice combo to me - but I seriously doubt it.

Carefree-No-More Freakouts. Commercials for cruise lines. Stories of alcohol-fueled freshman year hijinks. Pictures of camping in the Rocky Mountains. These are all things that remind us: Holy crap! We're never going to have fun again! No, I know that's not true, but gosh darn it, it's a little frightening thinking that our lives are about to change forever and suddenly we'll have this precious little human at the center of it all. When it comes time to plan our vacation, we won't be asking ourselves "where would it be cool to go explore this year?" Instead, we'll be asking "do you think airplanes will let us carry on a Pack 'n Play so we can go visit/crash on the couches of family members in Virginia?" We're about to have to acquire some serious compromising skills.

Things I Love

Personality possiblities. I love to think about all the different personalities my baby may end up with (but hopefully not all at once - I don't want a schizophrenic after all). Will she/he be quiet and pensive? Or cheerful and rowdy? If baby gets Andy's ADD and my OCD, what kind of life is he/she in for? Maybe the kid will get lucky and get Andy's charm and sensitivity, my knack for logic puzzles and celebrity trivia, and our combined passion for animals and wildlife. I think that would be a pretty fantastic little kid.

Party in my belly. I love, love, love feeling baby rockin' and rollin' in my womb. It's especially fun when it's strong enough that other people can see it. When it's wiggling all over the place, it's telling me two things: "Hey momma, I'm here and I'm doing great!" Most of the time baby is only super-active during early afternoon. Sometimes he/she moves at night, but rarely. Except at 3 a.m. last night when Domino tore a shelf off our foyer wall (don't ask how) and Sullivan got very upset and did his mean bark. Andy and I got up to make sure everything was ok. Apparently baby wanted to join in on the fun because she/he began rolling around for a while. But even in the middle of the night, it thrills me to no end.

Celebration of Me! How often in your life does everyone in the world want to know how you're doing, how you're feeling, and what your plans for the future are? Friends, strangers, people that don't like you - they are all curious about these things and aren't afraid to let you know it. You get to have baby showers and devote entire blogs to yourself! You get to be vain and talk about yourself - but because you're carrying around a fleshy watermelon and waddle when you walk up the stairs, people think your selfless and a pseudo-hero. It's great!

Deja Vu

Man, I'm tired. Boy, does my head hurt. Gee, this reminds me of my first trimester. Only this time I fit into a fraction of my clothes and tying my shoes is a real pain in the butt. T-minus 92 days, people.

Apparently, I'm Boring

I had a checkup today with the doctor. I had my blood sugar tested. I was told I am boring. Medically speaking, that is. Like airplane rides and trips to the DMV, you want doctors' visits to be uneventful, right? My blood sugar is fine, my blood pressure is good, my weight gain is normal (really? 23 pounds already is normal?), and my uterus growth is on schedule (27 centimeters - whatever that means). Even my "problems" are mundane (back pain and heartburn, whoopi!). So I should be happy, right? Well, I am. But a tiny, weird, selfish part of me wishes that something would be sort of wrong (but not really) so I can get more ultrasounds or visit the doctor more often and listen to the heartbeat. I also can't help but wonder, if everything is going so swimmingly right now, am I bound to suffer some horrid fate come D-Day (Delivery Day)? Am I going to be the patient all the other patients are wispering about ("I heard she's been here 52 hours, needed three epidurals, and had two episiotomies!")? Oh, I'm sure everthing will be alright. I just hope I'm not SO boring, my doctor becomes complacent, forgets about me, and I have to deliver in the hallway of EAMC with only a very frightened (and possibly drunk) Andy by my side.

Boy or Girl?

The number one question I get, from strangers and acquaintances alike, is whether the baby is a boy or a girl. It's strange how much this one simple trait seems to define so much. Thank God we're no longer living in a society that gives books to our children titled "Men are Doctors; Women are Nurses." But that's not to say we've overcome all notions of 1950s gender roles. I recently attended a panel discussion on campus titled "Raising a feminist child in a conservative state." It got me thinking about my own perceptions and how they will reflect in my new role as a mother. To be honest, I'm not sure how I'm going to respond if my daughter comes to me and says she's going to play football for Auburn one day or if my son announces his intentions to join the flag corps. I'd like to think I'll be 100% supportive of any and all goals my children set for themselves, as long as they are not harmful to anyone. But in reality, I have my own brand of sexism that is apparent when I consider my reasons for wanting a boy or a girl.

Why I want a boy:

1. Andy's side of the family only has a granddaughter.

2. Boys seem easier to raise than girls.

3. During my short stint as a day care teacher, I liked the boys as a group better.

4. Because of his back and neck problems, Andy was not allowed to play contact sports (ie: football). Having a boy would allow him to live vicariously through the athletic pursuits of our sure-to-be child prodigy.

5. Boys don't squeal, scream, or shriek at the same brain-piercing level that girls do.

6. There aren't enough sweet, respectful, caring yet still very guyish boys out there. I was lucky enough to marry one. It would be nice to raise one, too.

7. Boys can't get pregnant.

Why I want a girl:

1. My side of the family only has grandsons.

2. Girls are less rowdy than boys.

3. Girl clothes are WAY cuter than boy clothes.

4. I know how tough it is to be a 13-year-old girl and I like to think that my experiences can help be be more empathetic and forge a stronger bond with our daughter. If she's talking to me, that is.

5. I'm not sure why, but I think I can mold a girl intellectually more easily than I can a boy.

6. Though I'm not into designer clothes and makeup, I do love to shop. It would be nice to have someone to go shopping with that I don't have to liquor up beforehand.

7. If we have a girl, she will be a Daddy's girl. I know it and I would love to watch as that bond forms and grows. Plus, there's just something sexy about a cute guy with his little girl.

Now before anyone goes and posts a comment saying that boys can be just as difficult to raise as girls or that girls can play sports too, please note that I have already admitted that these lists are woefully sexist and based entirely on presumptions. I'm sure this won't be the last time I'm completely wrong about something. The truth is, I don't know what I'm having, but I'm sure I'll love it to bits and pieces no matter what. Early in my pregnancy I was so sure it was a girl. Now, most days, I think it is a boy. In my dreams it is usually a girl. Of course, the other night I had a dream in which I had two kids, the youngest was a boy, dressed in an Auburn cheerleading outfit (skirt and all), with three eyes. As long as we don't have a three-eyed baby, I think I'll be alright.

Fodderless

My sad lack of posting lately has not been due to a busy schedule. I've just been struggling for blog fodder (blodder?). I guess we've settled into a routine and things are going well for us (AU football notwithstanding). We've got the registry taken care of, the day care lined up, the nursery painted, and the crib assembled. Now what? I guess I need to get life insurance and we need to write a will, but that's boring stuff. My days largely consist of going to work and waiting to have a baby - isn't it a little early in the pregnancy to be thinking "ok, I've had enough, come on out already"? Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying pregnancy and the excitement of what lies ahead. But it seems like as it drags out, I start thinking less about cute outfits and belly rasberries and more about spit up and sleepless nights (though, thanks to my back, those have already begun). It also amazes me how much I worry already about my kid - the dangerous intersection of University we'll traverse every morning on the way to day care, the black and brown (yes, brown) widows that have made our siding their home, and the scary, scary world we're bringing him/her into (this includes everything from Osama bin Laden to Britney Spears). I guess I need to find a coping mechanism or a hobby. I tried knitting, but even the most simple stitch patterns eluded me (I guess I didn't inherit my mom's amazing ability for crafts). I would love to do photography, but I'm too cheap to keep buying batteries for the camera that sucks the life out of them like it's a digital vampire; and I never actually print out any photos. Maybe I can fill my days by searching for "blodder." Then you wouldn't have to sit through more rambling nonsense like this.

Signs of Progress, Part 2

Things are definitely taking shape now. My belly is getting more and more swollen and the baby's room no longer resembles an oversized closet (at least not a boring adult closet). As you can see from the picture, we painted the baby's room blue - to hell with gender stereotypes. We also put up a border of safari animals driving jeeps (again, to hell ...). Kudos go out to our friend Patrick for installing the fan - don't worry, he had prior experience (like I was going to risk life and limb for a little air circulation). I know the room is a little on the boyish side right now, but I have ordered yellow gingham curtains with a matching crib skirt and bumper pad. Originally I had registered for these items, but then got impatient and convinced myself that I needed them ASAP, just in case they didn't match the room and needed to be returned. Actually, I think it's because I ordered the crib last week and I really want to see what the whole ensemble will look like. And my belly button is not even popping out yet.

I thought I would share a few things I have learned since my first "Signs of Progress" posting exactly two months ago:

1. Time flies when your having, um, a baby.

2. Though I'm a fan of both, painters' tape and latex paint don't have a good working relationship.

3. Friends and family hate not knowing the sex of your baby, but strangers think it's great that you don't want to know.

4. Some strangers have serious guts - I would never ask someone I didn't know when they were due, if it's their first, or the sex of their unborn child. They could just have a serious bloating problem for all I know.

5. Working on the third floor of a building with 15-foot ceilings and no elevator is really going to suck in a couple months.

6. Wearing form-fitting shirts that show off your belly makes coworkers (especially middle-aged women) smile. Sorry, guys, this only applies to pregnant ladies. That spare you've been toting around since your college days doesn't count.

7. Grandparents pick out the cutest gifts - and have every right to!

8. A fetus weighing less than a pound can still pack a mean punch.

9. My little fantasy about being a tough-love parent that doesn't spoil her child is going right down the drain. Along with all my notions about our family members exercising restraint and not showering our child with gifts. Maybe that will be more of a long-term goal. Say, by age 13?

Quick Thanks

A follow up to my previous post: I want to thank my step-sister for her diligent list-making skills. If she ever decides to give up being a full-time mom, I'm sure she can make a career as a baby registry consultant. I also want to thank my step-mother for offering her words of wisdom and making sure I didn't suffer a panic attack at a certain baby store in Huntsville. I was on the verge, believe me.

Am I Registering ... Or Going Crazy?

Registering for a new baby is overwhelming. It is not a fun process full of ooohs and aaahs and doting salespeople. It is a science; it is a blood sport. I finally finished registering today and realized that I am not the same person I was five months ago. I swore that I would not be one of those parents who think every little thing is a necessity ("What do you mean a baby wipe warmer is not of the utmost importance?!?"), nor would I get a bunch of useless crap (I mean, really, a rubber bib that catches crumbs?). But it's funny how through the registering process, you find yourself justifying even the silliest of purchases (yes, even the crumb catching bib). I guess every parent wants only the best for his or her child and, of course, doesn't want to be judged by others for failing to meet their standards.

I always thought that registering was a weird process. I mean, it makes sense in a lot of ways; you know people want to help you out and buy stuff, so it might as well be stuff you'll use. But imagine if you just went around and asked for cash to buy that same stuff. People would be appalled at the inappropriateness of it. Though I have heard of folks asking for money in lieu of wedding gifts. Now that's just tacky.

Just out of curiosity, I thought I would total up the dollar amount of all the stuff we registered for. Apparently we found around $1800 worth of stuff our baby absolutely, positively must have. And that figure does not include a crib. Or a breast pump. Or college tuition. So when we come knocking on your door, asking for $1800, please know that it will go toward only the most basic of necessities. Like rubber bibs that catch crumbs.

Things I Love, Things I Hate

I am more than halfway through my pregnancy and thought even though I've got a ways to go, I would list the things I love - and hate - about being pregnant. I have a feeling the "things I hate" list will grow as my pregnancy progresses, so I thought I would make the list before I became too jaded. So here goes ...

Things I Love

Maternity clothes. They don't make you look fat. They're comfy and the tops are cut in such a way that they make you look like you're just carrying around a popcorn bowl beneath your clothes.

Companionship. Call me crazy, but I feel like I've got someone to talk to. Though he/she is not a great coversationalist at this point, he/she is a great listener. Mostly we talk about the weather (it's too darn hot!) or food (do you like crinkle-cut fries and soft-serve ice cream as much as I do?) or daddy (when's daddy going to get home from work, huh?).

Smiles from strangers. It's funny how people smile when they see pregnant ladies. I guess the distinctive belly bump is a sign that there's still hope and innocence in this world. Either that or people are just thinking, "Boy am I glad I'm not carrying around extra weight in this heat. Good for her."

Things I Hate

Superhuman sense of smell. Of all the senses, why is smell the one that becomes ultra sensitive during pregnancy? This is the one symptom that I have experienced consistently since day one. It's terrible. My nose is assaulted on a daily basis. I work in a building with poor air circulation and, for reasons unknown to me, full of people who do not bath regularly. The 103 degree daily temps have not helped either. I am forced to eat my lunch outside in the heat in order not to hurl.

Health scares. Things that wouldn't have concerned me before suddenly seem hugely significant. For instance, the invasion of black widows at our home (ok, so that would have scared me a bit regardless). Or a few days ago when I learned that most artificial sweeteners are considered unsafe. Why did my pregnancy book fail to inform me of that until my twentieth week, after consuming diet soda on a regular basis during the previous 20 weeks? Oh, and on Tuesday I ate half a cup of pudding before realizing it expired four months ago. Anyone know the long-term effects of bad pudding on a fetus? Maybe I'll give Bill Cosby a call. It was Jell-O brand.

Disapproving stares from strangers. I don't know if it's because I work on a college campus and carry around a backpack, but I get looks regularly from girls that say to me "Ugh, look at that pregnant girl. Couldn't even wait until she was done with school." Maybe I'm just paranoid and they're really fretting over the latest gossip their sorority sisters are spreading about their recent indiscretions. Or maybe they're worried that they're knocked up too. Ah, cynicism - don't you love it?

Baby's First Pics

Ok, folks. I know it's been a while since my last posting, but I'll make it worth your while. Today we went for our first ultrasound. And we thought hearing the heartbeat was amazing! I had no idea how detailed an ultrasound could get this early on. We didn't even need for the lady to point out a lot of the body parts. Baby was a bit camera shy at times and kept trying to wiggle away. In fact, it looked like it kept trying to wiggle clear out of the uterus all together, stretching its long legs and squirming around. I haven't felt the baby move yet, but the lady said that's probably because its in the breech position and the placenta is on top, providing a cushion between me and the baby. She said to give it a week.

The heartbeat is at 150 and the baby weighs 10 ounces. It's crazy to me to think that some fetuses can survive birth at 25 weeks and just under a pound. My weight is at 154 lbs. Though it looks like I've gained much more, I've only put on about 10 lbs so far. I'm sure I'll be looking hot in my bathing suit when I head to the beach next month with my family.

And, no, we didn't change our minds at the last minute about finding out the sex of the baby. The woman doing the ultrasound assured us, however, that it is definitely a boy or a girl. Don't laugh, having a transgender baby has always been a very real concern of mine (stems from doing a very strange report in a religion class). And the lady said in her 22 years of doing ultrasounds, she's has had one baby with questionable features. So it does happen. Just not to us, thank goodness. Though I'm still considering several unisex names ...

Just in case you can't figure out the pictures above, the top one is of the baby face-down. It looks like it's somersaulting through my womb. Look at the cute bubble butt and those long dancers' legs! I hope it keeps the bubble butt - more fun to powder, I'm sure. The second picture is a more clear shot of the spine and rib cage. For those of you familiar with both mine and Andy's back problems, it's a miracle the spine isn't twisted like a pretzel. The third picture is of the arm. I think the baby thought we were the paparazzi coming after it - it looks like it's in a fighting stance with one fist up in front of its face and the other down by its side. The fourth picture is a profile shot with the face looking upward. The last picture is of the baby's face. Cute, I'm sure, but at this point it's hard to tell just how cute.

Anyway, we got more pictures, but we thought these were some of the best. There are ten fingers and, as far as the lady could tell, ten toes. Even if there's nine (or eleven) toes, it doesn't matter. It's a healthy, normal baby at this point. We'll have plenty of time in the future to be goofy, paranoid parents and turn it into a crazy person.

Baby's second plane ride (or third, technically)

I'm off to California bright and early in the a.m. I'll be traveling to Santa Clara for the annual Rural Sociological Society meetings. Baby better not get used to flying - mommy and daddy won't be able to afford long-distance travel after she/he shows up. Anyway, I'll be returning late Monday evening.

In other news, I got us onto a waiting list for one day care. It is slightly more expensive than the others Susan and I checked out, but it's convenient for both mommy's and daddy's commutes to work and I just liked it the most. I may get on a waiting list at another place just in case (I'm not sure how it works when you're trying to get a kid in day care halfway through the school year).

I called about a birthing class and the lady said, "Wow, somebody who's actually calling early!" I took it as a compliment; I've been feeling like such a slacker lately (the nursery is still an oversized storage closet). The classes haven't even been scheduled yet for November. I chose the three-week class over the six-week class. I mean seriously, how many different ways to breath are there during labor? Besides, I would be really mad if I missed six episodes of "The Office" in a row and ended up getting a Cesearean anyway.

Bad Mommy Moments

Though I'm barely showing, I already am experiencing Bad Mommy Moments. Today, for example, my mother-in-law and I visited several day cares in Auburn. At one place the director was explaining that they have a long waiting list and asked me how soon I would need a spot (I had already told her my due date). My response was "well, how young do you take 'em?" I suddenly felt like a big neon sign was suspended over my head with an arrow pointing at me and flashing "mother who doesn't care!" Also, earlier I was comparing birthing classes offered by my OBGYN to those offered by the hospital. One is a three-week class and the other is a six-week class. Instead of considering which would be better on the basis of quality of services and information, I was doing the math to break down how much each class was by hour (multiply number of hours by number of sessions; divide this number into the total price). Is it okay to bargain shop when the health of my unborn child is on the line? Sigh. Being a parent is not easy as it is, why must I complicate things by worrying the world is judging my ability as one?

Battle for Eeyore

A coworker of Andy's gave Baby Dyer a gift recently - an adorable stuffed Eeyore. I was thrilled when I opened the package - Eeyore was always my favorite of the Pooh clan. Apparently, I wasn't the only one thrilled with the gift. So was Sullivan. The second he laid eyes on it, he was so excited and began to hop around. Now, I don't know if he thought it was an elephant (his favorite kind of stuffed animal to rip up) or if he just assumed all cute and fuzzy things belong to him (cats included). But, boy, was he dissapointed when I told him "No!" and put Eeyore back in the box. Then I realized we may have a problem here. Not only is Sullivan going to receive drastically less attention from Mommy and Daddy, but the toys we bring home will no longer be for him. How exactly are we going to teach him to distinguish between his toys and the baby's? I mean, if they duke it out over a stuffed animal, who do you think is going to win: the 100-pound ball of fur and claws or the squirmy sack of flesh that can't even roll over? We are actively soliciting advice from those who have experienced this or similar situations.

In unrelated news, I went to the doctor Monday. My uterus is slowly inching its way toward my belly button and the baby's heartbeat is at 155. Though I'm not gaining any weight, the doctor said it's ok because the baby is a parasite that will take what it needs. That was oddly comforting to hear. We go for the ultrasound on August 14. Sullivan has no idea what's going on, but he's been especially paranoid and protective lately for some reason. So maybe he's not so dumb and he really was staking his claim on Eeyore before the competition shows up ...

Baby's first plane ride

Tomorrow the baby will take his/her first plane ride. Janice heads to North Carolina to do research in county courthouses around the southeast portion of the state. While she's not thrilled about traveling (especially with an extra "passenger"), there was travel money to be spent in her grant budget and that's part of life as a researcher. Please keep both Mommy and Baby in your thoughts and prayers this week. They'll return to Auburn on Friday afternoon and hope to talk Daddy into taking them to see the new Harry Potter movie.

Signs of Progress

Ok, so things are slowly taking shape - literally. My belly is starting to develop the distinctive bump. I can still wear most my pants, if they're low-waisted, and you can't really see the bump unless you're really looking for it. It's still an exciting thing, though; physical evidence that there's another life in there. As for the nursery, we're slowly converting it from a storage room. As you can see from the picture, the mess has become a little more organized and mostly confined to boxes. We don't really have a design "theme" picked out for it or anything, but we have started to collect things to decorate the room with. Anyway, just thought y'all might like a quick update. Keep us in your thoughts!

Long Way to Go

Ok, so Mommy is into her second trimester and we've gotten absolutely nothing done. The nursery (pictured here) still serves as the room where we dump all the (non-baby) stuff we know needs to go somewhere, but have not figured out where quite yet. Suddenly the 500 lbs of stuff we donated to the thrift store when we moved doesn't seem like it was nearly enough. We also haven't signed up for birthing or parenting classes yet. And we have not made any decisions regarding day care. Instead of giving us recommendations, people keep giving us reasons why putting an infant in day care is a bad idea. But considering we have a car payment and a brand-spanking new mortgage, staying at home is not an option either. Of course, living out of a cardboard box on Highway 14 would give us PLENTY of free time with the baby! We'll get there eventually (getting everything in order, not Highway 14). Now that Mommy is finally getting over extreme fatigue, she expects to become more productive during the evenings and weekends. And now that Mommy is finally eating meat again (though in small portions), meal planning may get back to normal too. Though the nursery is not in order, the rest of the house is. We've had several overnight guests and would love some more. And, unlike Chuck, we won't put you to work in the yard to earn your keep!

Baby on Board

The major impetus for creating this blog was the exciting (and equally terrifying) discovery that we have a baby on the way. Of course our parents are thrilled to no end and eagerly await spending quality time with their new grandbaby. But they've still got a ways to go. The due date is January 3rd, but we're hoping the child is as frugal as we are and arrives a few days early, giving us a nice tax break. No, we don't know the sex of the child and no, we don't have names picked out. For now, Daddy and Uncle Rocky affectionately refer to the kid as "Meatwad" (for those of you who were as clueless as the Boston Police Department about those mysterious light boards/bombs, you won't get this reference either). Don't worry, though, Mommy will put an end to this whole "Meatwad" mess soon (though, if memory serves correctly, the same was said about the "Rocky" nickname as well ...). Well, we've got a lot to learn about being parents, but we're sure that friends and family will be super supportive in the coming months and years. Our hope is that this blog will serve as one way everyone can feel connected and be a part of our baby's life from day one.