Breathe in -- breathe out

I survived our first prenatal class.

It wasn't that bad, actually, except for the part where the woman behind us kept talking about how she is on blood thinners, and she has to give herself shots, and she just jabs the needle straight into her belly, and she is worried that she might puncture the sac and start spewing forth amniotic fluid, which she thought might have happened earlier today because the fluid that came out was white (her DH thought it was kind of cloudy), and what color was amniotic fluid anyway? (Now picture me turning green in the face, my wife leaning over and asking, "are you going to be okay?")

I so don't have the stomach for childbirth. A full 12 hours after the event, and it still makes me sick to my stomach to listen to.

The more I think about it, the more I'm glad that my wife is planning on a natural birth (assuming all goes as planned). I don't think I can handle LOOKING at the epidural needle, never mind being in the same hospital as my wife when she were to get the shot.

I think the thing my wife learned last night that she liked the most was that birthing room 1 in our hospital has an in-room jacuzzi. She wanted to know if we could call ahead and reserve the room.

(Me on the phone: "Yes, hospital? Labor and Delivery please. Yes. I'll hold.... Yes, Labor and Delivery? Oh good. Hey, we're planning a birth in 6 weeks, well, we're due in six weeks, and we wondered if we couldn't just schedule birthing room 1 for sometime that week. In fact, just block off the whole week for us, okay?")

Joking aside, it was a good class, albeit long (2.5 hours). I should have thought to bring snacks, as we were both starving at the end.

The class covered a bunch of stuff we already knew (don't smoke, drink, do drugs, take over-the-counter drugs, and be sure to take a multi-vitamin). Truth be told, it was actually kind of late for that kind of advice. (Birth is "scheduled" in 6 weeks, 2 days, lest you forget.) Then she talked about eating healthy, and all the kinds of food you should and shouldn't be eating.

This part was amusing because I've been doing Weight Watchers now for about 8 months, and I've become very aware of the food I eat and the quantity I eat. The class leader was talking about how easy it is to get your grains, and she said, "do you realize that a serving of cold cereal is just a half a cup? That is like this much" and she made a small cup with her hand. "Nobody ever eats just one serving of cold cereal. I'm sure you all eat at least 3."

And I'm thinking to myself, "Well, the cold cereal I had this morning is 3/4 cup for one serving, which is 30 grams. I had about 35 grams plus milk, so I think I came pretty close to my one serving."

So while I think the nutrition part is important, it wasn't new information for either my wife or myself.

Then we did the massaging (my wife loved this part). We ended with some relaxation techniques, something along the lines of hypno-birthing. That was really interesting, and it is something we want to look more into. It's not voodoo-ish or anything. It's just a relaxation technique where you learn to relax yourself and be aware of what is happening in your body, and then when labor happens, you work with your body instead of against it. It was very interesting, and very relaxing.

All in all, it was a good class. Now our prenatal classes are 1/4 over. Which is a good thing, because by the time class is done, we will be within 2 weeks of our "scheduled" delivery.

I better go reserve birthing room 1. Jacuzzi here we come!

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Pushing 8 Months

Maybe this post should be called "8 Months and Pushing." It kind of works either way.

Here's the story. Yesterday BW (Beautiful Wife), who as you remember is in her 8th month of pregnancy, was driving our truck. She parked it in front of our condo, but forgot to turn off the lights. When she went back out at 3:15 to head to her 3:30 appointment, she realized she couldn't start the truck because the lights had been left on (notice the passive construction).

She called me in a panic at work. I told her if she could get somebody to push the truck, she could pop the clutch. She told me she'd figure it out. Here's what she figured out: She (the 8-month-pregnant-she) pushed the truck out of its parking spot, and got it pointed down hill. The she started to push it, but couldn't get it going fast enough. A guy who was taking out the trash saw her and offered to help. So she got in and he pushed, but BW couldn't get the clutch to pop. So SHE SWITCHED PLACES WITH THE GUY.

Here is BW, standing at the back of the truck, pushing it, while this random neighbor pushed from the driver's side. After they got it moving fast enough, the guy jumped into the truck and popped the clutch.

BW called me on the phone, panting, almost unable to speak, quite proud of what she'd done. I was dumbfounded. She assures me that she wouldn't have (and this is a direct quote) "pushed it too far, both literally and figuratively."

But she did hurt in various places last night. I'm still not sure it was a wise thing to do. But I sure wish we'd gotten a picture.

You know, it was one of those experiences where its pretty funny afterwards because nothing bad came of it, but if something awful had happened, we'd look at it and say "Boy, that was dumb." But remember, she promises that "[she] wouldn't have pushed it too far."

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An impatient daddy's ramblings

We have started the 33rd of 40 weeks. It might as well be 400 weeks. Those who have been there recently tell me that the last month can't go by fast enough. I am wondering about the last two months ... :)

I'm so ready for this baby girl to get here. In fact, I'm impatient for it to happen.

I know, I know. I should have learned patience right now. I remember that while serving as a missionary, people would always tell me, "Elder, the Lord is trying to teach you patience." Well, I want to hurry up and learn it already, because I'm tired of waiting!

No, really, we are excited for the baby's arrival. Still no name yet, and that's really because we haven't chosen one, not because we're just not telling. Although I will tell you that there are a couple that we really like. But I don't think a decision will be made until she decides to make her appearance.

C is starting to get to the uncomfortable phase of her pregnancy. She has to get up multiple times a night to take care of business. Plus, she can't sleep unless she has like 4 pillows and three blankets strategically placed on, around, under, and over her. You gotta feel sorry for her. It doesn't look like much fun, but she is a trooper and doesn't complain (much at least). She is much more worried right now about her master's thesis, which she is trying to finish before the baby comes. She actually hopes to finish it, defend, and turn in any revisions before the baby comes, so she isn't feeling like 8 weeks sounds all that far away. Of course, when I think about it in work terms, I don't think it seems that far away either. We've gone one cycle left in our agile development process before our release date, and that is right before the baby is due (and the same weekend that C wants to defend her thesis).

Our next-door-neighbor came over last night to borrow something, and she told us that they found out that they are expecting. She's only about 6 weeks along (which is crazy pregnancy math that counts two weeks as if you were pregnant when any rational person can tall you is malarkey...). She said she is due in early June. My first thought was, "June. That is so far away!" My next thought, "Well, early December's not so bad, I suppose."

So I keep going back and forth. Sometimes 8 weeks seems like forever, and sometimes it seems like there is a slight chance it might go somewhat faster than I worry that it won't (if that makes sense). I always laugh at those people who tell me, "It will be here before you know it." I have to think to my self that it's like telling the mother of a departing missionary that her child will be home before she knows it. A mother of a missionary feels every day. So does an expectant parent. At least when that expectant parent is me.

by really, its going to be great. I'm so excited!! I can't wait.

Is it December 7th yet? Is it December 7th yet?

(I wonder if I could bribe St. Nikolaus to hook up with the stork for his rounds on December 6th. I'd clean my Nikolaus-Stiefel really good, I promise!!)

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The Best Thing Since Sliced Bread

Yesterday my beautiful wife (BW for short) said to me: "You're the best thing since sliced bread," an idiom that I've heard before, but never applying to me.

This set me to thinking. If I'm the best thing since sliced bread, does that mean I play second fiddle to an overgrown yeast reaction cut up into thin pieces? I thought about all the possibilities. Maybe it was just a hyperbole wherein the exaggeration was "since sliced bread" meaning since, like, forever, you know? Then I thought, "maybe she really means it." Then I thought, "well, I could ask the blog world what she means." Then I thought, "I could just ask her what she means."

So I went back into where she was, and I said, "You know how you said I was the best thing since sliced bread?"

"Mmmmhumm"

"Well, does that include or exclude sliced bread?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean am I better than sliced bread or not?" I enquire, trying not to look too concerned by the matter.

"I'm gonna have to go with the sliced bread on this one."

"Uh huh." I wonder if I should be concerned.

"So, this sliced bread fetish.... What's so great about an overgrown yeast reaction cut up into thin pieces?"

She responded by telling me about how on her mission in Russia, they didn't have sliced bread. So basically, I'm the best thing that has happened to her since her mission.

I'm okay with that explanation. (It does leave my ego intact, which is a bonus...) We've talked about how we are glad we met when we did. We are grateful for the life experiences we were able to have before we met such that we were the people we were when we met. The version of BW that I fell in love with is the post-mission, post-foreign-exchange experience BW. The version of me that she fell in love with is the version who went though all of my life experiences up to that point. Take away any of those life-shaping experiences, and what you're left with is a different person.

So, with that in mind, I'm okay that I'm the best thing to happen to her since sliced bread. Ok. Cool.

And dear, for the record, you're the best thing to happen to me since the killer rat-infested, monstrous cockroach laden, sewer-flooded streets of Brazil, too. I love you! :)

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Empty your pockets!

My wife has a purse. In it, she gets to carry about anything. This isn't news to most of you; I've seen other blog posts where women empty their purses on the table and list everything they find in it. So I know that a lot of women carry a lot of junk in their purses.

I thought that being a man, I was somehow above this encluttering practice. See, I don't carry a purse (big surprise here, I know). So I must be exempt from whatever law it is that turns purses into portable junk drawers, right?

Nope.

Turns out, I have a suit. My suit is my purse, after a manner of speaking. Well, we can call it my portable junk drawer. I think I prefer that term. My wife and I teach a local institute class, so I end up wearing my suit at least twice a week, and I've gathered a lot of stuff in my suit coat.

I've been thinking about this for a while now. My suit has a total of 9 pockets. My brother and I attended Priesthood Meeting at the Conference Center on Saturday evening. After we got home, I decided to catalogue everything in my portable junk drawer (I mean suit) pockets.

Here is the list.

• Watch
• Subway flier with three coupons, one used
• 3 Kleenex (1 used, two new)
• six pens
• funeral mints (Altoids)
• balloon
• cell phone
• wallet (we won't even go into the stuff that is in this mini-portable-junk-drawer)
• church keys (external, chapel, organ) on carabiner key chain
• USB thumb drive
• chap stick: (lip moisturizer variety, classic flavor)
• chap stick: (lip moisturizer variety, vanilla mint flavor)
• yellow tithing donation slip receipt
• Costa Vida magnet (from the Gateway Costa Vida restaurant)
• Post-it note with e-mail address of institute secretary
• Lanyard with attached institute parking card
• car keys

I think the strangest thing in my pockets is probably the balloon. It is in my pocket because we used it as part of an institute object lesson. The most sentimental thing in my pocket is the Altoids tin of funeral mints. These were the mints my sister's roommate gave us at my father's funeral. She thought we might appreciate having them while we were in line at the viewing, and then at the graveside. Somehow I haven't been able to take them out of my pocket yet.

So, what's in your portable junk drawer? Empty your pockets and purses. I want to know what you are toting around with you.

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