Madame Zaritska's Reading

I was surfing the web the other day, and I came across a psychic prediction of my baby's gender, size, and hairiness, among other things:

Madame Zaritska's reading
Madame Zaritska, our resident clairvoyant, wants to help you prepare for the arrival of your child. Here she does her best to predict certain aspects of your labor and birth experience.

What she senses for you
The day you deliver, outside will be windy. Your baby will arrive in the evening. After a labor lasting approximately 7 hours, your child, a boy, will be born. Your baby will weigh about 10 pounds, 2 ounces, and will be 19 inches long. This child will have hazel eyes and be almost bald.

Get a reading for your baby here.

Drink Up, Shamrock Lovers!

Of course, moms-to-be aren't allowed to drink, and dads-to-be could at least show a little moral support. Here's a nice little pick me up. It's tasty and refreshing, especially as we get into these warmer months of spring. It's rich in calcium and potassium, so it helps with leg cramps and healthy bones. Best of all, it's super easy to make: just tell Daddy to do it!

Here's what you need dad:
1 cup lowfat milk
1 large ripe banana
1 cup lime sherbert
1 lime, sliced for garnish

Put it all in a blender, and blend until smooth. Makes two servings. Looks like this:

This thing tasted so good, even Marty had to check it out:

This great drink is modified from one found at this link from the Kansas State University Family Nutrition Program. It's in the kid's recipes section, so you can do it Dad. Mom will thank you.

The First Appointment

We're in week eight, and we had out first doctor visit.

By which I mean that we sat in a room and filled out a bunch of paperwork. With a bunch of other people who are also filling out their paperwork (it made me wonder if we'll keep running into these people over and over, kind of like when you run with the same pack of cars for hours at a time on a long road trip). They pretty much just want to get you loaded into the system so they're ready to go when you have your first real appointment, in another two weeks or so.

It is useful stuff, though; don't get me wrong. I'm happy to say that we laughed at all the right places (said one nurse, "You just got to the part about being cousins, right?"), and managed to get through it ok.

Proud Mommy had some family history of diabetes, and so we also got to go downstairs so she could pee in a cup. We couldn't find the right bathroom at first. You know, the one where, when you come out, there's that little pee safety deposit box that you put the little cup in when you're done. As luck would have it, we ran into one of our fellow paper-filler-outers, and she was able to direct us to the right place.

Proud Mommy is also feeling a little more confident about the reality of the baby, but another pregnancy test has helped, and we get to have the ultrasound on April 2. The she'll have bird's eye proof that there really is a baby in there; although what kind of bird looks into prengant women's tummies, I have no idea.

Still to come: psychic baby predictions, groin babies, and tasting the rainbow.

Here's A Fear, One Of Many

A fortunate couple will discover that one's weaknesses are covered by the other's strengths. Case in point:

Proud Mommy is worried about the baby. Is it growing properly? Is it healthy? Is there even a baby really in there?

This isn't a problem for me, possibly because I'm rather detached from this part of it. My body isn't going through changes. The test is just fine for me, because I have no other frame of reference. In these first several weeks, when everything looks the same on the outside, all I've got is the second line on the little strip to go on.

I'm also not worried, because I'm just fully comfortable and confident that Proud Mommy is providing a nice, warm, healthy environment for the little raspberry (did I mention the baby looks like a lizard/alien about the size of a raspberry?). Proud Mommy isn't as confident.

Until that ultrasound, she's never going to be really sure that the baby is ok. What is she sure of? That I'm going to be the best daddy ever.

Naturally, that's the one I'm not really sure of. I mean, kids are just so, so childish! I wasn't childish, even when I was a child. So tell me, does some magic transformation happen when it's your own child?

Or am I just putting up a manly front, like that time I said I was watching wrestling, but I was really doing prenatal yoga with Proud Mommy? Shhh. Don't tell anyone.

Born To Be Mommy

You never stop learning about people. Last night, I learned something about Proud Mommy.

I may have known this already, but last night was the first time it all came together in my conscious mind. I suddenly realized that having this baby may very well be the best thing ever to happen to Proud Mommy.

Of course, everyone says that the best day of their life was when their baby was born. I'm not talking about that. I'm saying that for Proud Mommy, this may very well be a calling.

Some people are born to be doctors. Some are born to be architects. Some are born to be waiters. I think Proud Mommy was born to be a mommy.

Everything came clear last night, and this quality, and that characteristic, and the other belief, and the way she thinks, all of them gelled in my mind. It was quite a moment, and it felt really good. At least the kid will have one good parent.

How will I do? I have no idea.

Can It Be True?

There comes a time when you think you might be pregnant. You wonder about it. You may even be hoping for it to be true.

Then you take the pregnancy test. The little line says, "You're pregnant."

Even if you've been hoping, especially if you've been hoping, you're suddenly consumed by the next question: "What if the test wasn't accurate?"

So you grab a bottle of water, guzzle it down, and head for the restroom again. (Thank goodness they give you more than one test strip in the box!)

The little line says, "You're pregnant."

Still. Can it really be true? This is a human life for which you'll be responsible the next twenty years or so. That's a big deal. That's scary. Did we really want this? Are we going to be good parents? How on earth did this happen? No thought is too crazy to skitter across your brain in that moment.

So you read the fine print on the box. After all, everyone's heard the phrase "false positive," right? What if this is a false positive?

Sure enough, there it is, in black and white. Turns out you can get a false negative, "Frequent urination - or a diluted sample - can decrease the amount of hCG in your urine, interfering with early-detection," but almost never a false positive. Even the hospital, after a quick call said, "If you got a positive on a home pregnancy test, that's good enough for us. You're pregnant."

But maybe another brand would be more accurate. A quick trip to the store, guzzle some more water, and it's back to the restroom. Remember that diluted sample deal? Yeah, still pregnant.

And still pregnant.

And still pregnant.

Yep.

We're pregnant.

And the odyssey of the baby begins.