Beautiful Kyle

This is our son, Kyle David Beaudry.



Yes, Kyle is his real name (sorry AC360 fans). Jennifer and I chose it about a month and a half ago, but I didn't want to put it on the blog until we were within a month of the due date. That way, if we decided to change the name to something like "Funkybutter," he'd be spared the embarrassment of everyone accidentally calling him "Kyle."

However, it now looks like the name is sticking. "Kyle" is Gaelic, meaning "fair and handsome." The other options we considered were Finnish names meaning "ugly with bad breath" or "worn-out shoe." Those didn't seem to fit, so Kyle quickly became our top choice. As for the middle name, it comes from Jennifer's father and some clown on my side of the family.

We even like how our little one's initials work out - KB sounds like the name of a popular toy store. KDB sounds like... well, it kinda sounds like the former Soviet intelligence agency. Hmmmm... I'm really glad now that we didn't make his middle name "Gaspard."

Anyway, with the name set, I figured I'd post it with the latest ultrasound, which we received about a week ago. If you have trouble making out the image above, here's a guide to help:



As you can see, our little one has some chubby cheeks. He also has a mouth, a nose, and two eyes. I'm especially grateful for that, even though I would have loved him just as much if he were a cyclops.

The ultrasound technician also gave us a profile shot of our little one, which allows me to use my abundance of spare time to create something like this:



Jennifer's doctor says we should be "capturing" Kyle by his due date, June 10th. She says he's already pushing 7 pounds, so we don't want him to be late. We'd hate to have Jennifer deliver a baby that's larger than her. I'm guessing that wouldn't be too comfortable.

If for some reason you don't believe the reports of how big our baby's becoming, just take a look at this picture of Jennifer from her graduation last week:



Any day now...

My Memere

I love this picture of my Memere.


I love how Memere is just beaming as she holds one of the newest joys in her life, her great-grandson Owen. My aunt sent this to me shortly after it was taken this past Christmas. Memere loved her two great-grandchildren very much, and she was so excited about having a third.

On Sunday morning, my Memere passed away after a 3-month battle with cancer. She had lived a long life, and I am so thankful that I was able to be as close to her as I was. Many people lose their last grandparent when they're very young. I was blessed to have had mine for 30 years. Yet I still feel she left us too soon.

Memere was always a joy to be around. She smiled all the time, and she had such a youthful personality. She'd love going on trips, playing cards with her friends, or just sitting at home, laughing with family. You can also say she was pretty hip - I remember about 12 years ago, at the young age of 71, she pulled me aside and said she had danced the "Macarena" the previous night. And she seemed to be pretty good at it.

My Memere was incredibly generous. There was always an abundance of gifts at Christmas and on birthdays, and she made us all kinds of things with her needles and yarn. Then, when she sold her share of her house, instead of going on vacation, she gave all her offspring a hefty check. She did the same thing when she sold her car. Memere said she wanted us to enjoy the money while she was still around - she took pleasure in seeing us happy. Thanks to her, I was able to buy Jennifer an engagement ring. Memere's final check to us went toward the baby's room, and we told her that the last time we saw her, on Easter Sunday. She was thrilled.

It's sad to think that my Memere won't be there in person to hold our little one and sing him French songs, as she did to all of us grandkids. But that doesn't mean he won't get to know her. My Memere lives on in her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I see a lot of her in my own mother, who will be "Memere" to our little one. It's comforting to know that, in many ways, my Memere will still be around... and she'll continue to bring joy to our lives.

No more classes, no more books...

The little one knew. At around 3:45 this past Thursday afternoon, it was party time in Jennifer's womb. The little one was jumping for joy, uncorking the champagne, and blasting "Celebration" on his personal stereo system (every modern fetus has one). Unfortunately, he was a little early. Jennifer was still scrambling to complete her Securities exam, the last in a grueling series of finals, and the little one was becoming quite a distraction. Who could blame him, though? Three tough years of Law School were finally coming to an end.

As the little one squirmed, Jennifer was able to make something up about the law (as most lawyers do), and at 4:00 she joined the celebration. Phase one of the "trifecta of insanity" is complete - all Jennifer needs to do now is give birth and pass the bar. Those other two phases, though, are still weeks away. Jennifer right now is trying to overlook her belly and the mountain of bar books she has received, and just focus on her newfound freedom.


(Above: a shot from Park Slope as we took care of Jennifer's books)

Jennifer's graduation is this Sunday, in the darkness of night. It seems as if her university is embarrassed to be sending more lawyers into the workforce. It's probably why the invite also had a slew of lawyer jokes, including this one: "How can you tell when a lawyer is lying? His lips are moving." Hahahaha. Ah, lawyer jokes. They're such a great source of entertainment.

Errrrr... those jokes are about the bad lawyers, though. Jennifer will be different.

Anyway, we're going to have both sets of parents over for the graduation. So, Jennifer and I are busy getting the place ready - dusting, sweeping, and scrubbing. If we run out of time, we'll do the fail-safe cleaning trick: we'll throw things out the window and hope the people living below us don't notice. It's gonna be a busy week, but I think we have a fantastic weekend coming up. We can't wait.

Out for blood

Our little one is a 21st-century baby. That means, by age 16, he'll be learning how to drive a flying car; by age 18, he'll vote using a simple touch-screen machine that finally works; and by the time he's able to retire at age 120 (with no social security benefits), he will be half-robot and able to communicate telepathically.

His voyage into this new technological world begins at his birth, when Jennifer and I will have his cord blood stored. In case you haven't heard, storing cord blood is the big thing these days, since cord blood is an uncontroversial source of stem cells. Stem cells can be used to battle diseases such as the cooties and being "it," and can grow necessary organs if need be. By storing our baby's cord blood, we know this medical technology will be available to him if there's a problem. Jennifer's doctor recommended a couple of the nation's top cord blood facilities, and this week we decided to check them out. The doc didn't warn us, though, that once you make an inquiry, these groups will jump on you faster than your alma mater's fundraising office. Our phone has been ringing off the hook.

We basically had to make a choice between two companies: one based in Massachusetts, and another one based in California. A third option, a company based in Transylvania, made no mention of medical research, or saving the blood for that matter... so we immediately turned that one down.

The California company's specialty seems to be storage. They promised to keep the cord blood in an ultra-safe, earthquake-free location, guarded day and night by ill-tempered security personnel and a pack of wild cougars. The Massachusetts company, whose ad is pictured on the right, focuses more on stem cell research to possibly develop cures for diseases, grow organs, and find ways to make puppies fly.

Jennifer and I carefully considered each option, and in the end we went with the Massachusetts company, since it also offered us a gift card to Babies R Us. I'm looking forward to the day several years from now, when our little one shows his appreciation for something we bought with that gift card, and I could tell him that he paid for it with his own blood.

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.