@ 39 Weeks

I've been working on a video using the camera Monica bought me for Christmas. It's about three and a half minutes in length, so click on the play button, and enjoy! The film indicates a little bit about how much we have enjoyed being able to watch the growth of this little child from outside his realm. It's funny -- I've been talking with my friend Josh a couple of times recently, and he said he was in the same boat when his daughter was born not quite a year ago: while you can hardly contain your excitement and anticipation for the arrival of your little one, you can see already that you'll miss "the belly" a little bit, too. It's mostly because it's been so fun, so entertaining, to watch the belly and imagine Peanut changing and growing over the last nine months. You can sit around do virtually nothing for hours on end and be endlessly entertained by the anticipation of the next punch/kick/roll that, despite your expectation, is always surprising. Incidentally, the music in the video came from a cd that Josh and Shelly gave us: lullaby renditions of that great Irish band U2.
So the anticipation is just growing, really. The doctor said on Friday that she thought she'd probably see us again this week at the regular appointment (scheduled for Friday), but that you never can tell. So we wait. It's funny, the waiting. Until stuff started "happening" it was a patience-based waiting game, but suddenly they tell you "things are starting to happen," and the game changes. You are no longer waiting patiently; suddenly you're playing an odds game in your head: when, where, how will it all go down. Pretty fun. Any day now. I'll keep you posted...

Approaching 39 Weeks

The sun's just coming up over the Virginia Range east of Reno, and I'm looking south towards the Carson Range of the Northern Sierra while the long, raked light of the morning begins to peak over the mountains, golden and soft. It's cold, for April. Tall columns of steam are rising into the dry air above the buildings downtown, and the winds are still. It's strange to look out on the 25 stories of The Silver Legacy Hotel and think they actually did something right putting reflective glass on the building--it's really quite beautiful in the early morning. The windows reflect gold light back through the rising steam; as the heat unfurls toward the sky, the steam flickers like flames from an enormous torch.
Went to the doctor yesterday. Everything appears well, and things are beginning to happen. I'll spare you the details, but I'll say that "stripping membranes" sounds rather barbaric, but sounds worse than it is. Regardless, it won't be long now. It can't be, I don't think.
If you know anything about me, you know my reputation for curiosity, so it shouldn't surprise you that I might have asked the nice doctor about the bodily function they give the highly technical name of "mucus plug." Doctor's response: "it's not a cork." Ha.
Today is Monica's last day of work, formally, at the University Press until mid-July. Vicki Davies, our friend and Monica's boss, has shown us, but especially Monica, many kindnesses as the pregnancy has neared its end, taking Monica home for me, when I couldn't leave the NMA (thank you); encouraging Monica to feel that there is work that she can later do from home, once the formal maternity leave time ends. It makes me very grateful.
While I haven't gotten permission, I'm going to post this little beauty, too. It's awesome!

@ 38 Weeks +

With not even two weeks--it's more like 11 days!! isn't that curvy belly amazing?!--remaining until Peanut is "scheduled" to arrive, I'm left wondering so much. What will life be like for Monica and me with a third person living with us? What color will his eyes be? What shall we name this little person, that he won't resent us at some time later in life for the one we choose? I oscillate between feelings of incredible excitement for his arrival, looking forward to knowing and caring for this little person, and some pangs of fear and a little sadness at what will--everything, by all accounts--not be the same. Also, as with most things with my lovely wife, the impending arrival of this child feels perfectly normal. "Of course we're going to be taking a trip to the hospital soon. Of course it's because we need for you, Monica, to squeeze a living, breathing human baby out of that thing that looks like a basketball under your shirt! Yes, of course. Perfectly normal," I tell myself.
There is a photograph of my family sitting on a table in our living room here in Reno. It was taken by a family friend, Don Hoffman, a local photographer from Wadena, Minnesota, about the time I was a sophomore in college, or so. It's a nice portrait of all of us--my dad, Jamie; my mom, Sally; and my little sister, Caitlin; and I--we're all smiling real rather than camera smiles. I remember this clearly: sitting on the black velvet-covered box, laughing together, mostly at Don's wonderful way of making you laugh in order to find those real smiles. He just kept shooting, and showed us afterwards a small portfolio of images from which to choose. That photograph captures something, some truth, about my family that exists, of course, outside of the photograph, and lives in my memory, but I can't quite put my finger on it. It leaves me daily and sweetly reminded of my own childhood and youth--and wondering what kinds of lived experiences this little person we're about to welcome will recollect.

@ 37 Weeks

As of yesterday, April 1, our babyboy2b reached full term in the pregnancy--37 weeks. He could arrive anytime between now and 42 weeks gestation and be considered full term. So...no more fears that Peanut might be born prematurely! Not that we feared he would arrive early, really, but it's nice to know that at this point, whenever he arrives, he'll have arrived after a full-term pregnancy, with all of its benefits, and the best possible start in the world. Essentially, whatever amount of time remains before he is born he'll use to pack on some additional weight--about an ounce a week. If he's grown according to averages, he weighs just over six pounds now, and probably stretches to about 20 1/2 inches in length, maybe even 21. We're thinking that he began his migration down--he's "dropping," as they say--just a bit yesterday. I can't say he's dropped yet, but maybe, just maybe, he's beginning to do so. The only evidence to suggest this at this point is that the curve in the top of Monica's belly appears to have changed, to have lengthened. Yesterday morning, her abdomen appeared as if she literally was carrying a basketball around, but by the end of the day, the "slope" of the top of her belly had lengthened a bit, looked a bit less round and basketball'ish, and a bit less tightly curved. Of course, we might just be imagining it, but the time is drawing nigh.
Vicki came over the hill on Saturday, and she and Monica set up dueling sewing machines, and over the course of the day, sewed the bumpers for Peanut's crib. They're adorable and sweet, and the fact that they're homemade adds to their sweetness. Thank you, Vicki.

@ 36 Weeks

1. Place to sleep :: check
2. Crib :: check
3. Mattress :: check
4. Diapers, etc. :: check
5. Clothes, etc. :: check
6. Blankets, etc. :: check
7. Fear of God, or of our impending highly-variable variable :: check

Nobody tells you that the fear comes in waves. In less than 30 days, regardless of whether he comes on time, early, or late, there is going to be a third person living with us. For ever. He could still turn out to be a she, though it's unlikely. This person, though he will live with us for many years before going in his own directions, has already staked out enormous psychological, intellectual, emotional, and physical territories that will last the rest of this life. If you ask me, it's a remarkable survival strategy : two cells do a little dance, and suddenly start replicating the mixture of information created by their tango--natural curls, olive or pale skin, blue eyes or brown, ENFP or ISTJ. The mere presence of two cells that become four, eight, sixteen... 300 billion, alters the chemical makeup of the brain so much that, in combination with the pleasantly-offered but not always so graciously-received advice of "those who have gone before," the paths of one's life are re-evaluated, re-calibrated, and otherwise diverted, altered, changed in order that the replicating cells can be cared for in some intellectual, emotional, or physical way for the remainder of one's life. And I'm not even carrying the baby!

On Saturday, Monica and I took a "Prepared Childbirth" class at the Washoe...errr...Renown Medical Center South Meadows. I was thoroughly prepared for the worst, having heard many horror stories of just this class. As the day wore on, though, we realized our extraordinarily good fortune. It became clear that the horror stories had come from friends who had teachers other than this woman, Denise. She led us through the maze of information, expectation, and fear with much wisdom, wit, and humor--not to mention a thoroughgoing knowledge of her field. Those who teach for the love of education have aspirations of just this mixture, I think, and it's a rare--and therefore easily recognizable--gift and skill. I learned a great deal: where to go, what to do, what to bring, how to think about planning for the unplannable. I also felt relieved, welcome to do what feels right (contractions 5 minutes apart for an hour? go to the hospital. contractions 75 minutes apart and worried? go to the hospital; they'll send you home, most likely, but go to the hospital). Many of my thoughts were confirmed, but many others were challenged (have those really just been Braxton Hicks contractions all along?). Mike and Eryn and the girls came over for dinner Friday night before we went to the class on Saturday (good medicince, I might add). At one point, Eryn said she knew me well enough to know that I would respond to the baby class in relation to the quality of its teaching. I guess she knows me pretty well.

@ 35 Weeks

With about 5 weeks to go, Monica's beginning to look very pregnant. The kid's gone through some kind of growth spurt over the weekend--which is either what caused Monica to faint, or she was dehydrated enough that he swelled up like a sponge after she got all her fluids back up to normal. As my dad said last night on the phone, "you've been seeing qualitative change; now the quantitative change begins." ;-)

@ 34 Weeks

Monica and I went to the first of our every-two-weeks doctor's appointments on Wednesday this past week. Everything looked good: baby's heartbeat was loud and strong, he's gained some additional weight, and he's quite active at numerous times in the day. Following the appointment, Liz and Shelly--sweet people that they are--had arranged for a NMA baby shower for Monica and me, so many staff people gathered in the Founders' Room to watch as we opened a bunch of lovely gifts organized by our friends around the idea of travel: space shuttle baby plate, bowl, and spoon; children's books about adventures and travels all over the world; Ann's homemade blanket that "really is meant to be used" in the car, in the stroller, wherever...thank you, Ann.

On Thursday evening, Ann gave a talk at the Museum about her "Suburban Escape: The Art of California Sprawl" exhibition and catalogue, to which many of us at the museum had gone. Afterward, Ann, Amanda, Liz, Monica, and a few others, and I went to the Silver Peak restaurant in town to celebrate the conclusion of Ann's show, and to get a bite to eat. We all sat around the high tables in the pub (so much nicer without any cigarette smoke!) eating, drinking, and talking. Ann commented that Monica looked uncomfortable, and Monica joked about how the kid was probably pushing on her diaphragm. Suddenly, though, Monica said she thought she felt faint, so I moved my chair to the side, and told her I thought she should stand up. I wish I hadn't. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she fainted, and I caught her, trying to keep her from hitting head, butt, or belly on anything. I succeeded--as she didn't hit her head or her belly on anything--but it wasn't very graceful. As soon as she stood, she lost consciousness, and just sort of slumped down. When she got to the floor, she was kind of curled up in a fetal position against a pony wall in the restaurant, and I told Ann to call someone, and then held Monica's face in my hands for just a few seconds. I said "Monica! Monica!" and she came to. She couldn't have been out for more than ten seconds, and when she did come to, Monica thought initially that she had fallen asleep, until she realized she was on the floor, and then the embarrassment set in. All the tables and chairs had been moved out of the way, which Monica remembers hearing, but she has no memory of the episode otherwise. My first thought was just to get her out of the restaurant and home, but the paramedics were already on their way, thanks to Ann and Silver Peak staffers (thank yous in abundance, friends). When they arrived, which couldn't have been longer than four or five minutes after the call, the initial reading of Monica's blood pressure was 72 / 39. That's about half of normal pressure, which is usually 120-139 / <80.> Paramedics Adam and Keith checked all Monica's vital signs, asking her a bunch of questions to check her lucidity. She could answer them without any trouble, but we all concluded that she should be checked out more thoroughly in the ambulance, at least, and determine from there if we should go to the hospital. So Adam and Keith brought in the gurney, and Monica got loaded onto it, and wheeled out of the Peak, much to her later embarrassment. I have to say, though, that if there were ever a time for rubbernecking, most of the patrons at the Peak, from my point of view, anyway, were very gracious, and minding their own business, despite the fact that a four foot tall, six foot long, yellow cart was wheeling a prone pregnant woman by them as they ate. The paramedics re-checked Monica's vitals once in the ambulance, and her blood pressure had moderated to a much more normal 125 / 64, but even so, we concluded that the doctors should check her out, and with that, both Monica and I had our first ambulance rides. Had one now, so I'm good for a long while, thanks very much. Liz and Ann followed us and left the truck for us at Emergency, and we lay there for several hours as Monica was checked and re-checked, given IV fluids for dehydration, antibiotics for phylonephritis (a kidney infection relatively common during pregnancy, and probably unrelated to the fainting spell), and fetal heart monitoring. After about three hours in the Emergency room, with our O.B.G.Y.N's approval, the E.R dismissed us, and sent us to the Maternity ward for monitoring, which we thought would last the rest of the night, but after blood tests came back fine, and Peanut's condition was monitored for an additional hour, we were discharged to go home with a prescription for an antibiotic.
I'll just say that it was exhausting, and that neither the paramedics' arrival, the ambulance ride, nor any of the hospital checks gave me any concern like that which I experienced in the ten seconds or so that Monica was unconscious and non-responsive. You can imagine, I'm sure, the relief I experienced in seeing Monica's eyes open and hearing her wonder if she had fallen asleep at the table...
We spent most of the rest of the weekend laying low, tanking up on fluids, and watching the NCAA tournament, most all of which was good medicine (except the part about the Wolf Pack losing in the 2nd Round). I put together the crib, which I went ahead and got, and which is pictured here, and you can see that we're awaiting a little body to wrap in that awesome orange robe...Many thanks to all of our friends who helped manage Thursday night, especially Liz, Ann, Amanda, and Mark.

Party @ Piedmont

On Saturday, March 10, our good friends Mike and Eryn Branch, and their two little girls, Hannah and Caroline, hosted a "boys welcome :: no silly games (besides horseshoes)" baby shower for Monica and me at their lovely place--known as Piedmont--north of Reno. Many good friends and even some relatives descended on the Piedmont hilltop to eat, drink, talk, and celebrate the impending arrival of the one we're 90% sure is a boy. Cousins, an aunt and uncle, and cousins-once-removed came in from Fallon and Carson City. Brad and Vicki were able to make it over the hill from Grass Valley; friends Meg and Paul and their little Ethan came down from Truckee; and quite a few L & E and NMA friends were able to swing by: Michael and Valerie; Rachel, Pete, Gracie and Sugar Ray; Liz; Shelly; Jim; Steven and Brianne; Kyhl and Marian; Dave, Inger, Seth, and Allar; Bob and Vicki; Rebecca; and others, whom I'm forgetting at the moment. The party was great fun, helped in no small part by Eryn's having successfully brokered a deal with the weather man for the day, as well as her stuffed mushrooms...mmmm mm. Here are some pictures of the day.

Welcome, Charlie!

First, take a look at the three photos in my last post on March 4, the ones from our friends' 3-d ultrasound. Then look closely at the photo to the left. It's him! Our friends Jeff and Alissa welcomed little Charlie Luke Hutsler on Friday, March 9, 2007 at 4:36 a.m. He came a wee bit early, about three weeks, actually, but he's healthy and, at 5 pounds, 13 ounces, I'm not so sure Alissa would have wanted him to wait another three weeks. Haven't you seen pictures of those two 13-pound sumo babies that have been born this winter--one from Mexico and the other from Japan!? Alissa explains that her water broke at 9:30 p.m. Thursday night. I'm not sure what she was trying to prove, but she arched her back, writhing in pain until 4:00 a.m., when Jeff somehow wisely convinced her they needed to go to the hospital (Jeff--any tips, brother?). Alissa claims her only memory of the trip is telling Jeff to "run the red light...run the red light!" but they arrived at hospital at 4:20. Upon their arrival, nurses told Alissa the baby's head was crowning, hooked her to a monitor by 4:31, and he came out at 4:36. Need I say that the story succeeds in drumming up the "Holy Crap!" response in me? What ever happened to the hospital being the last stop in advent? The place to wait, impatiently, for the arrival of the impending baby? Sheesh. They might not have even had a chance to get the kid's seat in the car to take him home on such short notice! (And, for those readers who gave birth in the '70s or before, they won't even let you take him out of the hospital without the seat installed properly...none of this "I held you in my lap as we left the hospital" stuff. Ralph Nader's probably responsible for that, too!) Seriously, many happy congratulations to Jeff and Alissa, and welcome to the world, Charlie! We're glad you're here, and we'll be looking forward to meeting you soon!

@ 33 Weeks

Monica's friend and former co-worker, Alissa, is about three, maybe four, weeks further along in her pregnancy than Monica is. Their little guy, who you see here--affectionately known as "Buster," I believe--is to arrive on or about March 26, so he's coming...soon. We're not far behind. Alissa had the opportunity to have a 3-d ultrasound on Friday, which is why these images look so much more like regular photographs than do standard ultrasound images. "From my appointment two hours ago.They woke him up to take these pictures. He wasn't happy. It appears he has Jeff's nose and what my mom and dad called my "ashtray lip" when I was not happy as a child," Alissa wrote. What's amazing to me is how well you can see him: his eyes, the umbilical cord on the left, and his little arms scrunched up by his chin and neck.
Peanut continues to indicate acrobatics may be in his future. Each day, we're supposed to keep track of how many minutes it takes for Monica to feel him move ten times. The first day, last Tuesday, it took him not quite nine minutes. We are spending many happy hours "watching the belly"--it's endlessly entertaining, actually. We have no real sense of when or how he'll move, except to suspect that he's about to begin a period of activity, so each movement he makes is a surprise, a gift, which yields the same surprised joy in us each time. We'll be watching the belly, and seeing just small movements--maybe a little wiggle, or nothing at all--and then, suddenly, her stomach changes shape so radically we gasp and laugh, because we'll have seen, just for a moment, his head or his rump push out well beyond her body and return to some other position.