Lamaze lament

The nursery is near completion now, and we just bought a mattress for the crib. We're at a point where we can now visualize the little one lying there, smiling, giggling, and dirtying yet another diaper. We get warm feelings just thinking about that. Of course, between now and then the little one has to get out of Jennifer's body somehow. We were reminded about that in graphic detail last night, when we attended our first childbirth class.

At first, it seemed as if our instructor was going to do everything possible to put as at ease. She smiled, offered us water and cookies, and calmed the tension in the room by having each of us introduce ourselves. She then went on to say that what we see about child birthing in the movies is often exaggerated, and that it's really not too horrific. We were starting to feel good about it, but that didn't last too long... for the instructor followed her icebreakers by talking about childbirth pain, vomiting, and knives going where no knife should be.

Then came the pictures. Like a flight attendant getting passengers ready for takeoff, our instructor nonchalantly went through a giant flip book of images depicting the different stages of childbirth. At first, all we saw were an artist's rendition of what childbirth is like, and I feel everyone obtained a clear understanding from these finely-drawn pictures. Apparently, though, the mad people behind the flip book didn't think that was enough. So when our instructor said "this is when the baby's head starts to push through," we saw it - without warning -in beautiful technicolor. Each of the following pages contained close-up shots of the baby's arrival, up until the point when the entire head had poked through. You could tell the final picture wasn't taken by Anne Geddes.

After the ghastly flip book and a relaxation exercise, class ended with the instructor holding up a plastic baby doll and a pillow shaped like a cervix. She proceeded to try to push the plastic baby through the pillow, and actually had a hard time doing it. The instructor then laughed and said the baby was having trouble getting through because it must be a first-time birth. I wasn't very hungry for dinner at that point.

Next week I hear we get to watch a video. I'm hoping it's something fun, like "Back to the Future" or "Austin Powers." I get the feeling, though, that we might want to leave the popcorn at home.

"Pop!" goes the little one

In the movies, you never see a fetus kick. Since most of my child preparation has been based on what I've seen on the big screen, I was completely caught off guard several weeks ago when I looked down at Jennifer's stomach and saw it move.

Up until that point, I would get excited about feeling a kick, only to have Jennifer let me down by saying it was just hunger rumblings (and often that would lead to talk about another nutty "craving"). These days, when the little one kicks, there's no doubt he is kicking. In fact, it's somewhat alarming. When you see Jennifer's stomach move like that, you almost expect our kid to burst out.

That, of course, leads to the theory that the little one is actually an alien from one of those horror movies (see picture), and it's only a matter of time before he pops out and devours Jennifer and me. It's not the most comforting thought, especially when you consider the mess that would make of our nice new apartment. And what do we do with all the onesies then? They won't look as adorable on a blood-thirsty creature from outer space. So for that reason, I'm just going to bet he's just a strong kicker, and not an alien. But you can never be sure.

In the meantime, now that I can "see" the little one, I've been "playing" with him by tapping Jennifer's stomach. He often taps back. I have even shouted out numbers with each of my taps, perhaps getting the little one started on learning how to count (I will probably continue doing this counting thing until it annoys Jennifer - my goal is to reach 500 before that happens). Some days we even think we can determine a little hand or one of those giant feet pushing through. Yes, it's all very cute.

However, Jennifer also says she thinks she's been feeling him scratching away, as if he's trying to claw his way out. I'm a little apprehensive about that development, since it seems to gives credence to our "alien" theory. Well... I guess all I can say is, if that theory does win out, please don't send us any more onesies. Thanks.

Lil' Papi

I'm a few days late writing a post this week because I've been busy working on the nursery (painting, cleaning, installing a hot tub, etc.). It's been a bit more difficult to do anything in that room since the shower last weekend. The little one received many gifts from our extremely generous family and friends. We now have a stroller, a playpen, and a "diaper genie" (he's the smelliest of the genie clan, and I've already learned he doesn't grant you 3 wishes... though I'm not sure I'd want him to, anyway). We also received clothes, baby monitors, books, blankets, and... more importantly...

LOTS OF RED SOX STUFF!!!

Red Sox onesies, Red Sox warm-up suit, Red Sox plush ball, Red Sox sippy cups, Red Sox welding kit (we might wait 'til he's older to give him that), Red Sox blanket, Red Sox bibs, Red Sox socks - it may be enough to make him the most hated baby in New York. I get teary-eyed just thinking about it.

On Sunday, our little one got his first true taste of the Sox-Yankees rivalry: we brought him to a game at Fenway, and sat in the bleachers.

Jennifer could feel the little one "boo" Johnny Damon and shout "Yooouk" for Kevin Youkilis (it's actually the same feeling). The little one cheered when the Sox hammered the Yankees' pitching, and then openly questioned whether Dice-K is worth $100 million. All in all, it was a very good night - and we think the little one had a great time. It was especially comforting to know that he can't make out the words slurred by the drunken fans.

I'm looking forward to taking him to a Sox game after he's born. It's a good thing he already has all that team gear, though... we ended up spending all our savings on a couple Fenway Franks and a cup of coffee, so we can't afford to buy any more.

What's up, docs?

This past weekend, Jennifer and I went on a field trip. We visited Lenox Hill Hospital in Manhattan, the hospital where our yet-to-be-named little one will be born. We toured the delivery room (also known as the screamatorium), a postpartum room, the nursery, waiting rooms, bathrooms, elevators, and janitor closets. I must say, I was very impressed. If you're gonna enter Manhattan, this is the best way to do it. Our little one will probably cry at first, as babies do, but he'll likely settle down once he looks around and admires just how spacious the room is.

Unfortunately, though, like most New York buildings, Lenox Hill Hospital does not have a parking lot. So our "labor day" could end up going a little like this:

Jennifer: "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

Dave: "Hang in there honey. I think I've found a spot! Nope - it's a fire hydrant. Dammit. Lemmie see if there's anything on 3rd Avenue."

Hmmmmm... maybe we should take a cab there instead.

We also checked in with Jennifer's doctor this past week. She says we're having a "textbook" pregnancy, which means the little one's becoming a nerd even before he's born. That's our child, all right.

However, our little nerd does appear to have a wild side. When the doc checked his heartbeat, he kicked her back! She actually was startled by it.

The doc then turned to us, smiled, and asked, "So which one of you was the hyper one?"

Uh, oh. I guess I'll enjoy my sleep while I can.