A rose by any other name......

Well now belly boyz, it has been a while since I've been here, but surely you understand my predicament. Much to do, and if I'm not steppin', I'm in big dutch with the belly. To say it has been quiet is a bit misleading, because nothing in belly world is ever truly quiet, just moments of serenity between a new crisis. The belly has been getting bigger and bigger, not resisting nature by any means, and it is not that far to the finish line.

I have to hand it to the belly, she has been taking it all in stride. Me? I'm not sure the activity in the abdominal region would be taken as nonchalantly. Bit-o-advice: do not make references to the critter's movements or the miracle of a living thing growing in your beloved's mid section as anything remotely resembling:
1. Weird
2. The creature from "Alien"
3. A giant gas bubble
4. Freaky
5. Any reference to movies in which the movement eventually ends in the the belly being exploded.

Just saying......

Now, on to the matter at hand. You will be asked to participate in the formation of the moniker of your unborn. You will be given several choices, and then asked to work on your own to determine the label that your progeny will be called for the rest of its life. These are weighty decisions, and you can't be expected to undertake this with nothing less than life-altering implications it will have.

Me? I never really gave names a second thought. If it were my choice we would all just get a number and identification would be easy. Not that names aren’t important for self identity and all, but I have always been of the opinion that names are just a crap shoot.  Personality will take over any name.  For example, one of my good friends is named Jay.  Great guy, smart, kind, real success.  I also know two other Jay’s, one is an idiot, and the other is a complete assbag.  Did the name help or hurt?  Neither.  Names do not matter when all is said and done. 

The belly, on the other hand, DOES NOT SHARE THIS INDIFFERENCE TOWARDS NAMES.  Names are very important to the process of giving our little darling an identity that will define her success in later life. As a matter of fact, the belly informed me it is very, very, very, important to pick just the right one, and you can keep your stupid opinions and slipshod scientific analysis to yourself thank you very much.

I have to admit I always begin the review of the names proffered by the belly with how many mocking names I can make. You know, anything remotely sounding like, rhyming with, or having initials that could also stand for a body part (preferably near the genital area), act of procreation, bodily fluid, etc.  Hey, sue me, I was a shit in grade school.

So after the belly had come up ideas I quickly shot them down with derogatory nicknames. What I didn't realize was the belly was expecting me to offer counter proposals. So I went on a website and picked the name "Katherine".   
Big mistake. 

And by big I mean never-even-seen-the-doghouse-I’m-in-now-big.

It started innocently enough.  The belly and I were watching a little television when she asked again what I had come up with for an alternate to the name she had settled on.  I had been stalling for a week or two with tepid responses to her idea along the lines of “it’s not that I dislike it, I just feel eh about it”

But my time had finally run out.  I had to pony up something.  So I threw out “Katherine”.  I’m not crazy about it(see earlier discussion) but it had a good sturdy feel, classic, timeless you might say.  I didn’t change my gaze from the television, but all of a sudden I felt the heat from her stare hit the side of my face like a blowtorch.  Conversation that followed:

Belly:  “Katherine????” she said, “where in the hell did you get Katherine?” 

Stupid guy:  “uh, I don’t know”

B:  “What do you mean you don’t know”

SG:  “I got it from a list of baby names”

B:  “What list?”

SG:  “uh.. something I saw on the internet”

B:  “Something off the internet”  The belly’s eyes narrowed suspiciously

SG:  “yeah, um, I…uh.. can’t remember which …”

Staring continues, belly has now begun to lean toward me and I get the feeling that she is about to leap from the chair, grab me by each ear, and begin to bash my head against the back of the couch until my skull splits open.  But that just may be the fear talkin’

B:  “Really??? Katherine???  Why would you want to name her Katherine?????”

SG:  “well…I….uuhhh….I…just always liked it, it’s a good sturdy name”

B:  “Sturdy???   Sturdy???!!!  STURDY????!!!”

SG:  “Well I’m not married to it or anything, I just ….”

The belly hung her head in disgust.  As all of you that signaled the last hope I have ever had of giving any input into the name of my daughter. 

So, without any further ado, I am proud to introduce the soon to join us member of the household:

Layla Grace

(Must. Resist. Urge. To. Make. Nickname…………………………..)

Cervix-shmervix

Well we went to the belly doc today with great anticipation. Some time ago the belly had a procedure that evidently had the effect of chopping off part of the innards of my beloved. At the time all I heard was "no sexual activity for 8 weeks" pretty much everything after that was "blah, blah, blah". Now I'm generally in the doc's corner but when you drop a bomb that the previously mentioned procedure can have a very substantial impact on the current condition, well a little heads up would have been nice. Both the belly and I were worried that the cervix had been affected to the point that we now had worry that the critter could fall out at a moments notice, that my brothers is real worry.

You don't really think about all the problems, until you read(damn you google) or the belly doc drops a bomb on you that the belly might have to have bed rest and you are permanently barred from the happy place. Now we spent a two week period worrying about whether we need to make the belly pose a 12 week handstand. Cooking a baby is no walk in the park, I can tell you that. The belly has been pretty mellow lately with no big problems, so when the worm of worry gets placed in her ear, it burrows straight into the brain.

But all was good, the cervix was the proper length, as demonstrated by the doc in a gesture of forefinger and thumb, although when representing distance, hand gestures should generally be avoided. The cervix is adequate, and that is all we needed to know.

The belly took it all in stride and asked few questions. Me I wanted to shout, " what he f**k, doc? Could you not give us a little more heads up on the whole 'complications' issue"? But right now I seem like the only hysterical one. The belly is in a state of bliss, and although I'm not complaining, I have a hard time switching gears. Now that we are in the 30th week, my trepidation has been nullified by the belly's relaxed state. She has chilled to the point that I really don't recognize her anymore. She is on the downhill slide and dropped the non-stop anxiety of losing the critter almost entirely.

So with the indeffirence of the preggo-doc, we are in the home stretch, we aren't nervous about the outcome of the pregnancy, we are now shifted into the "do we have enough shit" mode.and judging by the advice of others, we do not have nearly enough short.

I got blisters on me fingers

So I know it has been a while, but what can I say.... I am to tired to type. You see, the belly has been tired and lethargic, but that has not translated into rest time for your brother in bellydom. Last weekend the belly asked me "are you going to get started on the baby's room?". Now my friends you must understand that no question posed at this point is actually a question. No, no, no, no, a question at his juncture is simply an order, a call to action, an ultimatum. You may be fooled into thinking that a question is an opportunity for you to explain how you will spring into action when it is closer to necessity, but you would be wrong. So very wrong.

Now let's talk about the baby room. It has to be exactly what the belly has envisioned. This would be simple enough if the belly was able to explain precisely what it wanted, but you will not be that lucky. You with get have exposed photos and strips of magazine pages that are meant to give you guidance. It is up to you to take these scraps and create the perfect baby room. Now I know what you're thinking.... The baby has absolutely no awareness of the surroundings, but you have to remember the baby room is not even remotely for the baby, it is for the belly, by the belly, and from the belly. It is the manifestation of the motherly love realized into shades of blue, white and pink. You see, the baby room is the one thing the belly can control at this point, and man o man you better get your paintbrush out and get to steppin'. I have now refinished the previously purchased dresser. Painted the ceiling and walls, and moved anything that is not baby centric to other parts of the house.

The ironic thig is that we have an ample supply of room, but the baby has already occupied a big chunk of real estate and she hasn't even been born yet. I mean really, do we need to spend this much time on picking out the lampshade? Chances are the belly will keep the critter close during the first few weeks so why do I have to kill myself getting just the right shade of gray? The belly doesn't concern itself with these practicalities. The room must be prepared and must be just right. I have now busted my ass getting the right layer of latex paint on every conceivable inch of the new room, and I. Am. Tired.

Tired not because I don't want a pretty room, but because I would have waited until a much more sane "notice to proceed" was issued. One that aligned a little closer to the due date. The belly, however, wants to get this facet of the future hairless squirrel locked in, finished, completed, done...

So my back, hands, and gluteus muaximus are tired and sore. Small price to pay in my book, cause I am in the "good husband/daddy" category. Not the "sorry-worthless-doesn't-care-I-don't-know-why-I-agreed-to-procreate-with-this-miserable-bastard" category.

You want to know how to avoid trouble: do what the belly asks you about, nothing more, nothing less. You will be tired, but consider it training for when you have to step up and care for the little poop machine. The point being that you better set down your beer and start creating the room that will make the belly happy. And let me clear up an important misconception. You are not actually ever being asked for your opinion. Your job is to nod and say "sounds good to me". If the belly wants a specific color on the walls, you schlep yourself down to Home Depot and tell them to mix you up a gallon of the subtle shade of gray.

So the baby room is done, the refinished dresser is firmly ensconced, and I avoided the urge to try to offer
the male perspective. I am all good with the belly, finally.

The belly: 974
Me: 3

Whoa nelly! I got a belly!

Let's talk about the dirty little secret amongst us belly guardians, that as we shepherd the belly through the maze of ups and downs, the ins and outs, the good, the bad, and the truly frightening; we are slowly trapped into the cycle of food. I have spent many hours in the preparation, pursuit, and delivery of food. What I didn't realize is that I would also begin to grow my waistline. I mean how do you constantly make sure there is something good to eat and then order a salad? Look at me now, it's almost 10 o'clock and what am I doing? Making turtle brownies. And will I eat them? Oh yeah baby! Do I need to eat them? Oh no baby! (by the way I'm sitting here in my sweatshirt and under a blankie even though it was 92 degrees today- the belly must be kept well chilled)

Empathy is a strong emotion, my concern for the belly is doing terrible things to my girlish figure. But how can I stop? I've tried serving vegetables, lean meats, and low fat treats. How does the belly receive these caring, thoughtful gestures? Let's just say the belly is less than pleased. Make some grilled chicken? First question from the belly is "where's the freakin' gravy, dude?". And I have learned if it ain't gotz gravy, it better have some butter and cheese instead. I apologize in advance to all the cows that will grow their udders in order to provide the creamy dairy products. Hey, at this point it's all about survival, and if it's me or a cow, all I can say is "bossie, you got your work cut out for you".

We are now in the phase which the instruction books have told us(damn them all to hell) that the baby will be doubling in size over the next four weeks. Good news for the belly is, "the baby is doubling in size" has replaced "I lost a pound" which replaced "I'm eating for two" which replaced "get outta my face I'm hungry". The trend, i fear is: keep the food coming bub, and don't stop 'till I tell you to.

On to some more mundane matters. At this point we went in for the glucose test. I'm not real clear on what that is, but all I know is I had to go to doc 'o babe and watch the belly drink a cup of flat orange drink, and then.....wait...a....long....ass....time. Then he put a tape measure on the belly and said "thank you very much, see you in a month". Clearly he doesn't get it. The belly needs something much more tangible. Like a report or a readout from a machine that goes beep, beep, beep. We di hear from the bastard stick, but by now we no longer fear it, in all it's staticy noise. We own you, you sorry piece of Doppler technology!

So we venture on into bellyhood, watching the big build happen and begin the dreaded next step, picking a name for the critter. More on that later......

My new Science: Bellyology

I know, I know, it has been more than a week since I updated my bellow bellyistas on how to cope with the tribulations of bellyness.  I had hoped to give a glowing report of a renewed sense of person and the re-emergence of my wife from the state of belly.  It appears the belly is here to stay.  But now that I have had time to spend among this strange creature, I like Jane Goodall herself have slowly gained the trust of the belly and have, while not accepted into the community, at least  I am allowed to sit quietly and observe the goings-on from a distance.  They say it takes time for creatures of the wild to grow used to normal humans, and eventually, once the sense you are no longer a threat, they carry on with their normal activities such as eating, sleeping, and screeching at the top of their lungs. 

You get to see the strange and wonderful nests they build.  Just how so many pillows can end up in one place is truly amazing. (quick aside- I resented the great wall of foam, also known as the body pillow, but I am slightly ashamed to admit I woke up the other day and I had co-opted the stupid thing from the belly.  It really is comfortable to sleep with……on second thought, I am very ashamed.)  You can watch how they roam from place to place munching on every sort of foodstuff. And observe the fierceness with which they lay claim to territory and defend it with a snarl and bearing of teeth. 

So, I have arranged the periods with which I have taken in my field observations, these are not exact, mind you, but more like general periods with which you can anticipate behavior, and if you so choose, you can take preventative action:

Weeks  0-4:  the excited times, all fun and anticipation, several pregnancy tests are taken

Weeks 4-8: the terrified times, all fear and apprehension, you both may experience difficulty breathing, first appearance of the bastard stick

Weeks 8-12:  the sleepy times, the ability of the belly to remain awake and upright is severely diminished. 

Weeks 12-16:  the grouchy times, keep your hands and fingers away from the belly, and always wear head protection

Weeks 16-20:  the quiet times, yes I said quiet.  A calm before the storm, you can sense the gathering energy of the atmosphere as the belly is about to begin the big build

Weeks 20-24:  The heavy times, the big build has begun and moving is getting increasingly difficult, your belly might ask you to “build me a step so I can climb into the bed

And last, the Belly has clearly established,

Weeks 1-40, the hungry times

Crack an egg? How 'bout I crack your head

Hello belly brothers, I know it has been afew days since I commiserated with you, but life takes its toll, eh? You may not realize that when you hit the 2nd trimester you hit the doldrums of the belly time. Well past the initial excitement, well past others being excited for you, and well past the memory of the little blue cross that sealed thy fate. Like a sailor on the vast ocean you have forgotten the maidens waving to you from shore, tossing flowers as you embark on the journey. The smell of the salt air as you felt the rush of the boat when the trade winds filled your sails and the look across the bow into the vast ocean into the unknown. Filled with trepidation tempered with anticipation, you felt the sway of the sea and couldn't wait for the distant shores.

Well belly life is much like the sea voyage. The undulating of the vessel rolling you forward has now become the rythmic equivilant of water torture. You wake to the roll, you spend all day with the roll, and you go to sleep with the roll. But some time has past, and much time has yet to go. At the half way point, you are tired of all this freaking rolling. The belly is growing increasingly uncomfortable, and having difficultly doing what it did with ease a few short weeks earlier. The hormones have subsided, the estrogen is stable, but what they didn't tell you is they have been replaced with the new hormone, bossogen. This is the hormone that affects the belly and brings out a pronounced increase in the certainty that the belly is the boss. Of you, of the weather, of everything and everybody.

Bossogen is less unstable, but the downside is that it never wavers. At least early on, the mood would ebb and flow. A temper would flare and subside, you only had to weather the storm. But now my friends, the boss has arrived and you had better get used to it. Nothing you own is yours any longer. You think you had rights to your own home? Ha! You were so very wrong. Scenario: you are getting ready in your bathroom(admittedly you share with the belly, but heretofore it had a sort of squatters right, whoever was in there got to stay until finished) the belly rushes in, sees you engaged in activity, and says "I have to pee, get out". Now you could protest, in your half dressed state you might even ask a stupid question like "what?". But what you need to do is get out....pronto. I have a recurring nightmare where the police are called because I am standing in my underwear in my front yard because the belly has ordered my evacuation. The good part of the dream is the coppers are both belly veterans and when they ask me why I am in the yard in such a state of undress, I only have to say "my wife's pregnant". And they holster their weapons and drive away.

Up until now things have been going swimmingly, but I am coming the the realization that the belly is steadily losing brain function. Not her fault, to be sure, but still an alarming development. We went to breakfast, we reviewed the menu, I said how about the breakfast plattter? Scrambled eggs, chorizo, beans and potatoes. The belly responded, "fine, whatever, I don't care, I'm just soooo hungry". We got our food and I immediately noticed the sour mood. "what's wrong" I inquired? Well I misunderstood the direction of "I don't care". Now I have always understood "I don't care" as meaning lack of care or concern of the outcome. Well, clearly this is not the meaning of "I don't care". What it really means is I-don't-want-to-be-bothered-with-ordering-but-you-better-order-me-exactly-what-I-want-or-your-ass-is-grass. Evidently scrambled eggs are not what the belly wanted, nor is it, as I was informed, anything the belly likes, has ever liked, or will ever like anytime...ever. Luckily, I had a couple of over easy eggs on my plate and with a quick scrap of plates, the offending scrambled embryos were removed and order restored.

I had thought the belly was omnivorous, and as long as it was not fighting back, it would be consumed. But here is your cautionary note. Never, ever, order "whatever". 'cause even though the belly says "I don't care" the belly cares very, very much.

The real hunger games

Now we have said before that belly logic is unlike any other logic.  Some say it's a higher form of consciousness somehow springing from the consanguineous   connection of two bodies joined through the miracle of birth.  But with the belly it seems like only the basics are covered.  It's as if on Maslow's hierarchy she never gets off the first rung.  So given this formidable task you must be prepared my friends in fatherdom, you cannot rest and you must be ever vigilant.   

Let me give you an example: the other day I went to the store to buy the belly some Popsicles, I got home, and put a new unopened box of Popsicles into the freezer.  The belly asked for a red one, which is by far the favorite.  (as a matter of fact we put all the green and orange ones in the deep freeze to give to all the kids during the summer) However after giving her the requested red popsicle the notion struck a few minutes later that one popsicle simply would not do.  The belly went to the freezer to get said popsicle and came back and immediately glared at me asking in all seriousness, “did you hide all the red Popsicles!?” now my immediate response was to gather the belly in my arms, hold her close, look lovingly into her eyes and whisper softly, “Darling I love you, but- you. are. bat. shit. crazy.”

However, this impulse was quickly suppressed, and in an instinctual flash of self preservation, and I leapt from my chair to dig through the box until a popsicle of the red variety was secured.  The belly padded off happily and calm was restored.

Item numero dos:

You would think the belly would focus on the great news from the sonogram.  Spine was there(thank you daddy for going to get the folic acid) two arms, two legs, three vessels in the umbilical cord(see previous post)good sized head etc.  What was really great news, no, make that truly stupendous news was when the belly came back into the room and announced that she had in fact, lost a pound.  As incredulous as I might have been, the belly was even more so.  Little did I know that the phrase "shut up, I'm eating for two" would now be replaced with "I lost a pound". As I peered over last night’s cheeseburger, the belly looked me straight in the eye and said "don't look at me like that, I lost a pound"

The lost pound is evidently in great danger because the belly has been knocking me out trying to find it again.  Two nights ago we went in search of that sucker via the Chinese food place.  Now all of you will relate when I tell you the mood of the belly can best be plotted with perceived hungriness.  And I had waited too long.  Hungry had taken over.  In one short trip, I was:

-Accused of deliberately not remembering the color the belly had chosen for the new dresser

-Got a back hand for rolling my eyes(my fault for getting caught)

-Told I was “driving stupid” (twice)

-Was told to quit being “so white” 

I love the belly, I truly do, but man, does it have to be so hard for a guy to go get an eggroll?

The important lesson for all you in the preggo-boat with me, is there is a time to surrender as do as your told, and a time when you must stand your ground.  You can’t be pushed around everyday of the nine months of bellydom!  You have to be strong, courageous and lay down the law.  Yes, my brothers-in-belly, it will be frightening, and it will be tough, and you will have to steel yourself against the torrent of hormonally charged emotions.  There will be a time when you must be brave!  You must not succumb fully to the tyranny of the belly! 

That being said, if I ever find the time to stand my ground I’ll let you know.

Belly:  however many points she wants

Me:  -4 (I got one back for furniture moves)