Taking An Interest

Recently, Wifey suggested it might be time that I do some research into the whole pregnancy thing, feeling it may help me to be sensitive to her needs if I understand what's going on in there.  I explained to her that I was writing a baby blog - clearly I was taking an active interest!

Sadly, though, Wifey pointed out that just because I was putting down some random observations and sending them out into the ether, didn't mean I was actually learning anything about the biology of the whole operation.  When my declaration that it would corrupt the whole premise and integrity of my blog - a naive young father-to-be learning by doing - was rejected, I finally relented and made the following purchase (which, to be honest, I'm slightly shocked no one gave us earlier!):

Hopefully this will, for the time being, fulfil my requirements when it comes to researching the whole pregnancy thing.  Of course, a little further down the line, when this small act is no longer sufficient, it may be necessary for me to physically read the book.  Actually, by then the movie should be out - I'll probably just see that.

Sharing the Good News

This is the moment that our existing dependant was informed that a baby would be joining the family.  A moment later, however, I threw her ball and all was forgiven...for now.

One of the first dilemmas we faced when we discovered Baby was on board, was who we should tell and when?  It seems like the norm is to keep it quiet until you get to the 3 month mark.  At this stage you can generally establish if things are going well or not.  Doc told us it was entirely up to us who we told and when and was pretty blunt about what could possibly go wrong!

I suppose doctors need to be pretty straight when it comes to the high possibility of a failed pregnancy and by being matter-of fact they can better prepare couples for that eventuality.  I do appreciate the honesty of such an approach, but you can't help leaving feeling that, despite already beating the enormous odds against conceiving in the first place, you will be very lucky indeed to make it all the way to (or through) actual birth.

That being said, this made me all the more determined to tell some of those people closest to me.  That way, in the (seemingly almost probable) outcome that something did go wrong, we would at least have the support of our closest friends and family.

So who makes the cut?

Well there was no way we could hide it from my parents with Wifey being so crippled by her "morning" sickness...and considering the fact that we were living with them at the time.  So parents would find out and therefore so would our brothers.  And, by default, so would their girlfriends.

And what reaction would we get?

Well there was some combination of all the following cliches:

"You're not!?" *stunned, expectantly excited silence*

"Oh WOW!" (accompanied by the thought process: 'my child is too young to be a parent!')

"I'm going to be a GRANDPARENT!"

"I'm going to be the coolest uncle!"

"This is the best news EVER!"

And finally, the combination:

*Stunned silence* (accompanied by the thought process: "I'm too young to be a grandparent!")

Additionally to these, we each told our closest couple of friends, who were all suitably, coolly stoked.  However, we thought it best to hold off telling work for the moment...

Alas, "morning" sickness strikes again.

When a girl of a certain age gets married, any proceeding signs of ailment are closely monitored by all women (and some particularly perceptive men) in the workplace.  This makes it particularly difficult to fake 'not-pregnant', particularly when you have a poker-face as good as Wifey's isn't.  True, this phenomenon has caused many a flu to send the "She's so pregnant" rumour mill into overdrive, but when the real thing strikes, there is no mistaking it for those who recognise the signs:

"Can't help but notice that [Wifey]'s not drinking tonight..."

"She's driving."

"That would be why she passed on the prawns?"

*Chinks glass in congratulations*

With these signs on display for all to see and a mounting number of sick days for "spewiness", the cat is well-out of the bag at Wifey's work; the worst kept secret in town.  Fortunately my symptoms have been far less severe, so I may yet make it through the first trimester.

Baby's Been to Disneyland...and Vegas...

My parents never got sick of the joke that, despite my lack of recollection, I had, in fact, been in a helicopter.  They justified this by the fact that, while a fair way down her path of pregnancy, Mother had taken a joy ride at a carnival.  In a similar vain, I should be free from the burden that is every child's desire to go to that miraculous place of dreams: Disneyland.  For, Baby's already been.

Granted, Baby was scarcely the size of a gummy bear at the time of attendance, but that shouldn't matter...  Right?

However, matters of cruel and unnecessary emotional torment aside, the fact that Wifey and I went to Disneyland with our little jelly baby on board was of immediate concern when, a fortnight later we discovered our little stowaway's existence.  Disney California Adventure was our greatest cause for concern.  For this, the more adult of the two Anaheim parks, is home to the most remarkable and heart-stopping of rides: The Tower of Terror.

As if Wifey wasn't cranky enough at me for the fact that she somehow found herself sitting next to me on a ride that drops you 13 unlucky storeys in a service elevator, the fear that it may lead to a child with an upside-down face, really did concern her.  But the Tower of Terror wasn't the only amusement that came with a "resist in the case of pregnancy" warning.  Even the rollicking ol' Indiana Jones ride carried such signage.  And what other dangers were lurking as we tottered around the West Coast of the U.S. of A?  The mind boggles...

VEGAS.  O. M. G.  What about that night in Vegas?!  Unlimited free-poured spirits in a Vegas club for a night!  Surely our child would be ruined: two heads with a joint IQ of 12.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, Doc assures us that everyone's had at least one absolute blinder in the unrealised period of pregnancy and we needn't be alarmed.  Turns out it's more the long-term excessive drinking through out that causes problems.  As for the wild rides of Disneyland, they probably just ensured that Baby was holding on tight.

Having said that, now that we know Baby's on board, we aren't taking any risks!

Morning Sickness: The Great Sham.

I understand that morning sickness strikes various women in different ways; some not at all.  I read on one website that symptoms may arise somewhere around 10 weeks and should be gone in the vicinity of 14.  In my case Wifey was struck flat from about the precise moment her 'condition' was realised.  This was only 5 weeks in and I'm told it was only the thrill of Disneyland keeping her going up until that point.

Exactly why morning sickness is so-named is a mystery to me.  I don't know if Wifey is just particularly pregnant, or what, but her symptoms have remained with her well into the afternoon.  Every day.  Still.

I am starting to wonder now if morning sickness was in fact an important evolutionary stepping stone in preparing the Western man for parenthood: Sure, it's a far-cry from wiping both ends every 10 mins (I gather that's required with an actual baby), but it is a move towards... attentiveness.

A friend told me of an island tribe which still practice a custom where, at the point of labour, women are taken away from the tribe (where they would be bound to disrupt the man-folk) and tied safely to a tree where they can give birth under the guidance of the experienced mothers.  They can then return to the tribe after a couple of days have past, when they are no longer flustered, the baby is all cleaned up and they've had an opportunity to get their hair right.

Granted this probably wouldn't fly in my society.  And let's be honest - nor should it.  As much as every guy jokes about the fact that he wishes he could be Don Draper getting hammered in the waiting room until the screaming's stopped and the baby isn't covered in birthing fluid, in reality there's no way they'd leave their dearly beloved in there alone.  Well maybe some would, but those guys probably shouldn't be fathers.  I will remain there copping all of Wifey's misplaced rage and letting her crush my hand to her heart's content.

But that, thankfully, is still some time down the way.  At this stage my preparation only goes as far as being attentive to Wifey's requirements in dealing with her "morning" sickness: having a bucket handy and plain-ish food and drinks at the ready.  Upon reflection that doesn't seem like a huge ask or task compared with what's still to come.

But the point remains that "morning sickness" is a huge misnomer: the implication that it is contained only to the hours before lunch exists just so the first hurdle of pregnancy doesn't seem so great that you put the whole thing off entirely.  Small steps.

The Discovery

While on a recent overseas holiday, we found it necessary to take a pregnancy test.  This was merely a precaution, as clearly jet-lag was to blame for Wifey's pregnant-like symptoms and this would confirm that fact.  Well, so we thought.

We had once before felt it necessary to take a pregnancy test.  That time around a bun-in-the-oven would have been rather poorly timed: living arrangements were not ideal and there was the big overseas holiday in the works.  Yet, all the same, as the golden 2 minute mark passed and I peered upon the magic wand that could determine my destiny, I was struck by an intriguing disappointed sensation when it displayed a negative result.  I'm not sure if it was my overwhelming internal paternal desire, or a masochistic addiction to drama.

So what do you do when you ARE faced with a positive test?  Well the instructions (which I have read cover to cover...thrice) tell you to contact a doctor.  However, being 23 (and thus having learnt most of what I know about life, love, sex and babies from popular culture), I know better: you take more tests.

One week later we arrived home and made an almost immediate appointment with Wifey's doctor.  She would confirm (or deny) what we thought we knew with her bigger, better, doctory test.

"So why do you think you're pregnant?"

"I'm late and I took a test...well...four."

"And they were all positive?"

"Yes."

"Congratulations, you're pregnant."