Firsts

Right now my life is full of “firsts.” My first pregnancy with my first child who will be the first baby I will raise (and, let’s be honest here, also likely the last), which opens the door to endless firsts in my future … his first diaper change, first bath, first night home from the hospital … all the way up to his first driving lesson, first date, first job … and so on. I am so excited about all of these firsts, even if I am a little clueless as to how to deal with them all – How will I respond the first time he asks me how babies are made? (Is the stork still a viable lie to tell to tide me over for awhile? I doubt that reading him my post about his conception would help clear things up much.) Or wonders if Santa is real? Or God for that matter? (Though for now I suppose I can just focus on how to swaddle him properly, supporting his wobbly head and stuff like that, and save the worrying about his potential existential questions until at least after he’s said his first word or two.)

But, this past weekend I did get to experience a few firsts with my 6-month-old niece and, while it still in no way prepares me for the challenges before me in motherhood, it was incredibly exciting to get just a small taste of what it’s like to see things for the first time through her eyes (plus I got in some more practice with feeding and changing diapers, got a sneak peek at just how insanely jealous our pups will be once there’s a baby living permanently in our house, learned how to use my diaper genie and how to eat one handed while holding a baby with the other, experienced a eureka moment when I figured out that putting a baby in an exersaucer buys me just enough time to do my hair and makeup, and got a crash course in which types of toys are best to slobber on vs. which get totally snubbed by discerning infants like my niece).

And GAR totally nailed his first attempt at installing an infant car seat (thanks to the good people of YouTube who like to post their own homespun “how to” videos).

I must say that living in Orlando has its perks, and one great thing about the “City Beautiful” is the endless amount of entertainment options available. But, of course, when it comes to my niece there really was one very obvious first that needed to come first out of all the firsts (got that?) – A trip to the Magic Kingdom.

And how could she possibly go to “Mickey’s House” without meeting the main mouse himself?

She also got to experience her first train ride (and monorail ride for that matter).

And she *almost* got to take her first Dumbo flight … but she fell asleep in line instead.

Plus, I learned a few things too … like how, with a baby, it takes you 5 hours to ride the train, meet Mickey and *almost* ride Dumbo (a series of events that takes about 45 minutes sans baby). I also learned that the line to meet Mickey is only 20 minutes whereas the line to meet the Disney Princesses is 70 minutes. Where are people’s priorities?

Oh, and of course, my niece also got her first pair of Mickey ears! I mean, this cuteness is TO DIE FOR!

My sister and I also got a little “girl” time sans baby while GAR got his own first – A whole night of babysitting duties. While I can’t speak to how he faired that evening since I was not there to witness it for myself (though I do know he learned all about the “witching hour” while we were away. And, just like “happy hour” at any TGI Fridays, it lasted much more than simply an hour), I did get a call when I was merely 2 minutes from the house frantically inquiring about the whereabouts of pacifiers in our home … leading me to believe it was quite a learning experience for my dear husband. Nonetheless, he proved to be quite the capable babysitter that evening, even if he did expose her to “Maury” paternity tests (as I left the house he was explaining to my niece who was and was not the father of the babies on tv … and I’m fairly certain this scenario will play out very similarly when I return to work after maternity leave and GAR is left in charge of our son’s daytime tv watching habits).

Plus, it was all for a good cause – My sister and I got to go see Boys II Men and New Kids on the Block in concert (and 98 Degrees but, really, aside from Nick Lachey’s abs, we didn’t really care about that)!

My sister also threw me a lovely baby shower. And, while it wasn’t the first one I’ve attended, it was the first where I was the one who’s pregnant. I opened so many baby gifts – tons on teensy little onesies that my baby will soon be donning for the first time … books that I will read to him on the first of many sleepless nights … toys that he will touch, explore and examine upon first inspection … and so many other thoughtful presents that filled me with joy (and also trepidation – A tube that I use to suck snot out of my baby’s nose? REALLY??) Just thinking about all the firsts that GAR and I will soon have with our little one really does make this (normally not so sappy) gal feel all giddy inside. Damn, when did I become so cheesy?

And before my niece left we tried out one more first – Her first dip in the pool. (WARNING: Photo of pregnant lady in a bikini coming up)

Seriously guys, I wish I could have captured her excitement about the whole thing and shared it all with you. She loved the water. I could have stayed in there with her all day while she smiled and kicked her little legs like a natural Michael Phelps (and yes, I do know that Ryan Lochte is technically the new swimming “it” boy, plus he’s a Floridian, but there’s no way I’m comparing my precious little niece to him especially since, at 6 months old, she’s already wayyyy smarter than he is). And, thankfully, I got some tiny swim trunks and swim diapers as a shower gift so I know that this swim with my niece was just the first of many swims she’ll be enjoying with her baby cousin in the future.

Now she just needs to make another visit so we can experience a whole new world of firsts together. Thankfully it looks like she’s already plotting her next trip!

While my due date is still 2 months away I still can’t help but feel like it’s right around the corner. This is especially true now that I’ve experienced another first – This weekend I also felt (and even saw … my entire stomach was shaking and jiggling like a possessed mold of Jell-o while it happened) my baby move into the standard “head down” position. It was truly a surreal experience. Of course I would need an ultrasound to confirm all this, but it was rather obvious what was happening as the lump in my stomach where (what I always assumed was) his head normally resided started moving downwards in front of my eyes, while the kicking of his feet in my abdomen started pedaling its way upwards. And now it’s obvious from every jab I feel that he’s completely readjusted in there. Oh yes, this shit just got real … and I’m getting really anxious to finish the nursery … now.

But first, one more photo. My baby belly really does make for a great little seat for my niece … for now.

Denial? No, That’s Just a River in Egypt

Last week I went to Publix and the bagger literally pointed at my stomach and said “Congratulations!” Now, I’m not saying that I don’t look pregnant – I do – and, of course, I would much rather have someone assume I’m pregnant as opposed to simply just packing on the extra pounds, but I was still slightly horrified. No one should ever accuse a woman they don’t know (or even one they do) of being pregnant. I think that when you actually spot a baby coming out of my nether regions THEN you can safely assume I’m pregnant … and not a moment sooner. And I’m sure that almost all women would be with me on this one. Being falsely accused of being pregnant is one of the most heinous crimes that could possibly be committed. Even if you are absolutely convinced a woman is knocked up I assure you – it’s just not worth the risk to say anything. (Although I should note that a former boss of mine recently informed our VP that I was “pregnant, not just fat” and I thought that was probably not the best choice of words either. I dunno, call me overly sensitive but ...)

Perhaps part of the reason I took this seemingly harmless remark about my obvious “pregnant-ness” so hard is that I’m still in complete denial that my belly is growing so rapidly. For some reason my brain hasn’t registered this – or refuses to process it – whichever. I just keep acting surprised when my stomach gets in the way of things. I knock into my kitchen counters when I’m trying to reach for something that is now, thanks to my tummy, clearly out of reach. I am thoroughly amazed when I can’t bend over easily. Heck, I even knocked some poor guy in the head with my belly when I tried to shimmy between two closely placed tables at lunch. Each time I thought “Huh, what’s happening?” before I was finally able to put the rather obvious puzzle pieces together.

But today I went to return some non-maternity dresses to Old Navy because, weirdly, they totally didn’t fit me right at all (why? They ARE my size ... that's odd) – and I was also wearing non-maternity clothes at the time (with the elastic waist on my skirt sitting well below my stomach ... you know, like how Al Bundy used to wear his pants) – when some guy in the store says to me “You 2 go ahead of me.” As I looked at him quizzically (2 of us??) he smiled and, of course, pointed to my stomach. Ah yes, me and the baby. Now I remember.

Of course I knew this would happen eventually. For awhile I was able to deny it though. In fact, the bulk of my growth thus far has sort of come in spurts. It was only a month ago that people would see me and declare “Are you sure the baby is ok in there? You barely look pregnant at all!” And so you couldn’t blame me in thinking ... HOPING ... that I’d look a little more like pregnant Princess Kate than pregnant Kim Kardashian. But, just like any tabloid “star,” the reviews of me looking “too skinny” turned quickly into deflating declarations of my rapid, burgeoning growth. Well, it was good while it lasted.

And, as someone who is now quite obviously with child, I have to say that I haven’t really been taking enough advantage of this whole “being pregnant” thing. I haven’t really played the pregnant lady card to get what I want very often at all. Thankfully someone I have no recollection of ever meeting before stopped by my office today just to tell me how big I'm getting (thanks random lady!) and it reminded me that I really should be milking this for all it's worth.

So I called and scheduled a pre-natal massage. Why not? I deserve it. (Though, did you know you have to get a doctor's note saying it's okay? I don't get it – it's just someone rubbing me, right? Do I also need to get a note saying it's okay to drive my car over speed bumps? This is madness people - madness!) And this weekend I'll also be trying out a little pre-natal yoga as well (though I really don’t know how my belly won’t get in the way of me being successful at that). But I know I should be taking this so much farther. Why am I pumping my own gas still - aren’t the fumes bad for me? GAR should be doing this for me. And I hauled in groceries yesterday with very little assistance. Why did no one offer to carry them for me? Come to think of it, should I really be forced to do anything for myself at all anymore? Where is the chivalry? The compassion? Shouldn’t everyone be doing their part to help this humongous pregnant lady out?

Or maybe I’ll just keep doing all those things but carve out a little more “me time” while I still can. That’s really more my speed. Plus, I’m not really THAT big ... you can hardly even tell ... barely ... just a little ...

 

Oh, but I did let GAR convince me that I’m entitled to use the “expectant mom” parking spots (where you can find them). I really don’t “need” to use them (not yet anyway) but this is summer in Orlando after all and I don’t want to look gigantically pregnant AND sweaty. Vanity wise that might really push me over the edge.

So here I am. Full disclosure, this photo was taken by GAR who, despite his many wonderful attributes, has never been great at getting a good belly shot of me. I am, in fact, much bigger in person than this photo lets on. That said, I am now convinced that this is the only outfit that makes me look even remotely "thin-ish" anymore and I will likely be wearing it daily from this point forward. Ha ha - no one will ever guess I'm pregnant in this dress!!

An Education that Gives Me More Than Just a Naked Ricki Lake

GAR and I have been joking for months that, despite all the apprehension and nervousness we feel about becoming first-time parents, we really have but one mission to focus on (at first) – keep the baby alive.

I think that most new parents feel this way in the beginning. After all, newborns are so tiny and frail … and their head is still soft and squishy in parts … it’s hard not to think you’re for sure going to “break” him. I mean, what do I know about caring for another human’s life? You’re just going to let me walk out of this hospital with a fragile little baby and no training? Heck, I need a permit to go fishing but not to assume total responsibility for the health and well being of a defenseless infant? It’s just wrong! You are putting your trust into the wrong hands! I drop my cell phone 10 times a day and you’re handing me this wiggling thing? Bad idea mister. Bad idea.

It really is ridiculous if you think about it. There’s nothing that occurs during the 9 months I’m carrying this baby inside of me that in any way prepares me for what it will be like to actually care for this child once he’s out of the womb and in my arms. And yet people do it every day. People who are, as a general rule, often seemingly much LESS capable than I. People who qualify as adults merely due to their age in physical years, not in mental ones. And yet somehow, miraculously, their kids survive (I’m not saying they raise them well or serve as great role models or what have you – that is a post for another day – but in the sheer matter of keeping the baby alive they are able to succeed). So surely, SURELY, mine will too.

So perhaps babies are slightly more hearty and resilient than I imagine. Nonetheless, I do think it’s still my job to go ahead and educate myself on how to care for my baby now. This seems like the type of information I should know … even if, oddly, there is no law, rules or regulations requiring me to do so. I guess I’m just a real nerd like that. But it seems I’m not alone in my pursuit of knowledge on this topic. When I went online to sign up for prenatal classes at the hospital I found that they were booked for weeks to come. I am, it seems, dreadfully behind already!

Well, actually, that’s not exactly true. Not ALL of the classes were full. In fact, the “basic infant care” class which, per my reasons stated above, seems like to most critical one to take for first timers like GAR and myself, had lots of availability. Tons of openings. Apparently everyone else who’s pregnant knows exactly what they’re doing and thinks caring for a new swaddling dependent will be a breeze … a task that requires no training. No, in fact the class that was so full I had to schedule it a little too close to my due date for comfort is the all-day “childbirth preparation” class (though I am still uncertain why a class on giving birth, which is, relatively speaking, a fairly small part of the whole “having a child” equation is 8 hours and the class for actually caring for said baby in the months and years that follows is a mere 2 hours. But it’s not my place to question such things when I am, thus far, completely uninitiated into the club of people who know about this stuff).

This has led me to one, fairly major, conclusion – people are more concerned about physical labor pains than they are about the years of labor they’ll endure once that pain has passed. And by “concerned” I really mean “terrified.” Perhaps they’ve reached the same conclusion I have – that people everywhere manage to keep their kids alive, surely they can do the same. Perhaps they think they don’t need training for that part. But, if there’s one thing that every first time mother seems to be completely flabbergasted about it’s how she’s going to fit that giant (albeit squishy) head and broad shoulders through such a small opening … and how to minimize the pain and trauma it will surely bring about. And she wants as much information as possible about it.

But I don’t. Actually, the less I know the better. Now, it must be stated that I am not one who is of a delicate deposition. I am not too bothered by blood and pain and all the gross, horrifying stories people just love to tell you about childbirth. I am not naïve about it. I get it. I know what happens. I know it hurts like Hell. I am harboring no grand delusions about it. But, aside from the basics, I don’t really feel like I want to think about it too much in advance. The day will come when it must be done and, by the end of that day … or the next (or so) … it will be done. So why worry myself about it? I mean, one way or another that baby is coming out of me. And even if I have no clue what I’m doing, I will (lest I’m trapped due to a hurricane or some other unforeseen freak occurrence) be surrounded by trained professionals who DO know what they’re doing. And that’s a heck of a lot more than I can say for what things will be like once I check out of the hospital and GAR and I are truly on our own to figure this whole “parenting” thing out for ourselves.

So, while I am worried sick about how to care for a newborn, I am not too concerned about childbirth itself. In the grand scheme of things it’s really the very least of my worries (and, using my same logic as before, I’ve known plenty of true wimps who’ve made it through the ordeal just fine. If they can do it I am quite confident that I can as well). And, if I weren’t such a geek about being educated, I wouldn’t even take the childbirth class at all. I mean, why discuss and worry about things that are, to some degree, out of my control? But of course I signed us up anyway. You know, gotta learn all those breathing techniques that I’ll never actually be calm enough to perform when it comes time to use them. Heck, I’m sure we’ll be so rattled that I’ll be lucky if GAR even remembers how to drive me to the hospital when my water breaks (or doesn’t break – I’m sure I’ll learn all about what can, or may not, happen in my class). In this case, getting there really may be half the battle. So at least this class will, if nothing else, serve as a nice trial run for getting from our house to the hospital. And that’s almost worth the price of admission.

Plus, I am strangely curious to check out the food selection in the cafeteria. While it’s not exactly the same as checking into a luxury hotel for a couple days I know I will, at some point after I managed to get that baby out of me, be wanting to nosh on something. Now THAT is the part of childbirth that truly terrifies me – the cafeteria food!

Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve decided to start off this whole education business with a little private “at home” viewing of some DVDs I’ve been given. But, as I said, I’m really trying to stick to the ones that highlight how to care for an actual baby. I already watched a documentary that showed Ricki Lake’s natural homebirth. Like I said, I’m not too squeamish generally, but naked Ricki Lake truly is a sight that cannot be unseen. Wish me better luck with this batch of videos!