We had an ultrasound yesterday. Scout is ten ounces- that is the size of a warm can of PBR with a couple sips taken out of it. It was good to see him moving around and touching his face. Everything seems to be normal and in fact he is a couple days ahead of development from what the guys said. Yeah, the guys…
We walked into the ultrasound room and there were two men sitting there. One had a shaved head and a goatee, the other wore a dark beard. I thought they were sitting there to tell me my brake pads were getting thin. I know, I know, it’s a bit sexist of me to assume that our tech was going to be a female- but last time it was- last time it was a nice grandma(y) lady who I imagined might bake a nice apple pie on her off time. It’s hard to confront your own stereotypes I guess when you think you have none.
Anyway, the cartalk guys ended up being super nice. One was training- he had just transplanted to Missoula from California ((damn Californians) I’m from California so I can say that). Apparently the place where he had worked for the last ten years didn’t have the technology that Missoula has so he was learning the new bells and whistles that he wasn’t familiar with. It impressed me that Ol’ Montuckey had something that his little corner of California didn’t.
The guys were fine, very professional. One small random thing happened that I can only attribute to gender though. Scout’s hand was shielding his head when they were trying to take a picture of his face. One would think, well, I would think, that if Scout doesn’t want a picture of his face taken then so be it, he takes after his father- leave him alone and we just won’t get a picture. But the tech, the trainer, thought otherwise. He decided to dig in a little and press into the belly with his ultrasound tool like a car mechanic reaching for an oily bolt that he couldn’t see. He said he was trying to get Scout to move his arm. Well, Scout never moved his arm- he’s about as stubborn as me when it comes to getting his picture taken. But it made me wonder if grandma tech would have done the same, or if she would have talked nice to Scout and agreed he didn’t need his picture taken today.
We saw his four chamber heart, his spine, hands and feet with the proper amount of digits. I was told we saw some kidneys, an aorta and parts of the brain. Ulnas and radii were there, as were the tibs and fibs. We even saw his peener. No doubt, it’s a boy. Seeing Scout didn’t necessarily further concrete the fact I have a baby on the way- I think I’ve been concreted down for a while now. But hearing that everything is looking good eases my mind for sure.
Everything on the homefront is beginning to take shape too. Scout’s room is slowly becoming real. My dresser got kicked out of it and Kylie asked me where my cluttered desk was going to go. I said hold on woman I still have twenty weeks! No, I didn’t say that. I said how about the living room? I think we all know how that conversation ended.
I started painting a mural in Scout’s room a couple days ago. I’ve painted a few kids’ room murals before- Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, a floating Big Bird and Snuffleupagus, princess castles, and Shrek and Fiona. This one is for my own kid though so it’s gonna be a little more out there… Like Dr. Suessy out there. And this wasn’t even my idea- Kylie suggested it early on and how can one argue with the wonderful weird world of Dr. Suess. I already painted some green hills and flowing water. I have lots to add- The Lorax, some truffula trees, Things one and two, the Cat, Horton, some Sneetches and I’ll probably hide a Wasket somewhere. Don’t worry landlords, it can all be painted over.
So that’s where we are at right now. Kylie is doing fantastic. She has a bump, a beautiful baby bump. She is feeling great and in the midst of a nesting stage. She’s moving stuff around and throwing stuff out and starting registries and getting out for walks in the sunshine as often as she can.
On Friday Scout will be twenty weeks in the belly. There is so much to do because that is halfway!
I can’t wait to meet him that day!
He’ll be squirmy and wormy
Looking bloody and blotchy!
He’ll be singing and swinging
Gripping a throbbing wet cord!
Pointing my way the OB will say,
“HEY YOU CUT THIS!”
But I’ll faint and be floored.
Sorry, I had to do that. Okay, I gotta go- I got a Lorax to draw!
It’s gonna be a B-O-Y !
What’s going on in there little thing? You are eleven weeks, three days today. Congratulations, you are the size of a fig. Your great grand-nana loved figs. She had a tree in her back yard in Chula Vista. I used to watch her pick them off the tree and eat them- I thought it was disgusting- I think I just don’t like seedy things. Anyhoo, she died over a year ago. I would have loved for you to meet her- mostly because I would have loved to watch her scare the shit out of you. She was an absolutely loving grandmother, but she also like to yell at us as kids. “IF YOU KIDS DON’T LISTEN TO ME I’M GOING TO BEAT YOUR BRAINS IN!!” On occasion she followed it up with, “IF YOU HAVE ANY!” We, as children, would scream, scatter, and run away. The adults in the room would laugh out loud. As an adult, I got to watch her yell at my younger cousins- I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. Her husband, on the other hand, your great grandpa, was the polar opposite. He would sit quietly in his chair and just observe everything. Every once in a while he’d quip a joke out and everyone would laugh. He died about six years ago while your mama and I were living in a shitty apartment in Flagstaff.
You have one great grandparent left right now- Red. Red is your grandpa Jared’s dad who lives in New York. You’d like him- I had the pleasure of meeting him this year in June. He’s quite the character with stories galore. He reminded me a lot of your late great grandpa Harvey from West Virginia. In fact, both of them had messed up a couple of their own fingers by the time I came around. Your great grandpa Red mangled a couple of his with a chainsaw (they are still there though). Your great grandpa Harvey lost one at the knuckle while working at a sawmill. He used to draw a face on it and move it around to entertain us.
But let’s stop talking about your late Greats. Let’s talk about your balls! Or your vagina! That’s right, I went there. By now you are forming one or the other- and quite honestly, I don’t care which! As long as you are healthy- I know, how cliché of me. But it’s true. I will let you know right now, if you are a girl I’m going to try like hell to raise you like a tomboy- and if you are a boy I’m going to try like hell to raise you into the most sensitive and caring man I can. And if you end up being gay, I’ll be absolutely happy and supportive with that too.
If you can help it though, please don’t be racist, sexist, homophobic, or a bully, or a football player, or in a fraternity or sorority… This will be a longer and more defined list some day, but this is all I can come up with right now on the fly. Actually, if you follow this list of don’ts then you should have a good foundation for being a good person.
Okay, I am about finished with my cappuccino, so I will bid you adieu. I hope you are warm and well inside your mama’s belly. I might put a stethoscope to your world tonight even though the internet says that it is pointless this early in the pregnancy. I wish I could come in and hang out with you for a bit but you’d probably freak me the fuck out with your creepy underdevelopedness at this stage- so I am perfectly happy to wait till June. Hugs and kisses little one.
Is there a force in the universe that makes a man tell dad jokes as soon as he is an expectant father? I swear there is and I cannot escape it. I used to be a funny guy- well, to me. But recently I find myself shaking my head at myself when I attempt a joke. Really guy, did you just say that? I should slap you upside the head.
Take yesterday for example, we were just wrapping up our first visit with the OB
GYN. We all had a great conversation, well, I mostly sat there and listened to her ask Kylie questions and Kylie ask her questions. Really I just felt I was a bit of an inconvenience as the nurse had to go find a chair for me to sit on. But then when she asked us if we had any more questions at the end of the session I decided to display my wit, “I’ve been suffering from Couvade syndrome and I was wondering if you had any suggestions for me.” Kylie laughed. Our Obstetrician nervously laughed, probably only because we were both laughing and she didn’t want to be left out. Then she asked, “What’s, what is that?” As with any other joke that becomes unfunny when you have explain it, this one unraveled quickly. I explained what it was and she said she didn’t know there was a name for that condition. Awkward!
We also had our first ultrasound done yesterday and it’s absolutely true- we saw it with our own eyes- Kylie has a little mexican inside her! And that thing was moving around like a jumping bean! And we saw the heart beat holy shit! It was a little flutter bug! We got to see it in 3-d, which quite frankly looks a little freaky to me but Ky thinks it is cute. I’d post a picture but it looks pretty much like the one I drew in the last post. They were also able to give us a more refined due date- June 8th!
They gave us tons of pamphlets and magazines and options for chromosomal blood testing and a big book that had some way too graphic pictures of childbirth. Seriously, it was a photo of a guy holding up his squatted partner by the armpits, then you gaze down and there is head sticking out of her vajay- it didn’t look like either of them were having any fun. Anyway, it’s a lot sift through. It’s a lot to talk about also- there are certain windows when some tests are better, some can’t be done for a while, and they are all optional. It seems to me that all these tests should just be included, but we have to decide whether or not to get them done. And even if we do they are not one hundred percent conclusive- there is a risk of false positives and false negative that then get confirmed with more tests that could still be false positive/false negative. I don’t know what we will decide to do, but you won’t hear about anymore of that here. I am just surprised by all the little but huge decisions we have to make before Scout even scoots its way out.
So that was our visit- a very positive one. So far, so good, and that was the only news we wanted to hear.
This is not about Scout’s developing baby brain, it’s about my distracted one. Scout is a little over nine weeks now- the size of a grape- or an olive. I’m pretty sure it’s brain is not really there right now. But! Scout will apparently be developing gonads or or ovaries this week- and a four chambered heart! And toes! Cute little toes the size of engorged fleas I imagine. I would show you a general picture off the internet but it’s more fun to imagine a snail without a shell or antennae, floating around in a uterus the size of a grapefruit. Oh what the hell, I’ll draw you one…
As Scout is growing and progressing, I seem to be losing myself a little at a time. Sure, insert hair joke here but this is serious. My brain is losing focus at home. Weird little things keep happening and I blame Scout. I’m still to young for dementia I think. As of now it seems mostly to do with food. Here are a couple examples:
I know those seem like small things- but they are huge in my world- and they’ve never happened before I’ve had Scout on my mind. Luckily I’m too busy at work to make these kinds of mistakes. It’s only been happening at home while my mind wanders. Hopefully it will stay at home and not enter my bartending life. Can you imagine getting a White Russian with raspberry puree instead of cream- because that’s the kind of stuff that might start happening.
But there actually is a syndrome that the partner of a pregnant woman can suffer called Couvade syndrome. I do not suffer from that as far as I can tell. It is also referred to as sympathetic pregnancy. The partner may gain some weight (which I have- but very little), experience nausea, and can even experience labor pains and such. I watched an episode of House once that portrayed a guy in the midst of Couvade syndrome. He was in more pain than his pregnant wife. I’m pretty sure that episode ended with a football coming out of his anus or something- but that could just be my babybrain remembering things wrong- go figure.