It's Not Delhi Belly, Weeks 36 - 38

The waiting game has officially begun. To be honest, I think both Lindsay and I thought that Little Luth would have made an appearance by now, but we find ourselves just waiting. We've been on a one to two times per week diet of doctors visits. We're both really happy with the practice we selected; however, one of the "down" sides is that as we see various doctors at various points, they each seem to have slightly different approaches. Just before 36 weeks we had an ultrasound that pointed toward the baby being ahead of schedule from a size perspective (it was measuring as if it were 39 weeks). Based on those measurements the doctor emphatically stated, that one way or the other, the baby would arrive before the due date.

The planner and professional in Lindsay instantly started peppering the doctor with questions (all of which were permutations that asked the much more direct question, "when is this baby arriving?" She's done this with each of the doctors we've seen since. On Friday, the doctor (who was on the more conservative spectrum) said, "The only prediction I'm going to give you is the due date, and I can confidently say I'm correct 5% of the time."

And so we wait.

And so we continue to take weekly photographs of the always lovely and beautiful (and increasingly more pregnant) Lindsay Luth.

Week 36

Week 37

Week 38

Baby Names

We're one of those couples that isn't finding out the sex prior to birth. From what we've heard, we're in the vast minority here. We're also one of those (annoying, to some) couples that isn't sharing baby names before the birth. From what I can tell, this phenomenon is becoming somewhat more common.

While there are many parts of the pregnancy that we're gladly sharing with others, it's kind of nice to have something that's just between the two of us. In addition, it helps that we'll never have to endure the situation where we tell someone a name that we like, they recoil in horror, and we get a complex about the name we selected. If someone recoils at a baby name after it's born and already named, it's on them. They're the asshole.

That hasn't stopped some ideas from flowing in. If people ask, I have a boy name and a girl name readily available to tell them: Ruth if it's a girl (i.e., "Ruth Luth") and Babe if it's a boy, (i.e., "Babe Luth"). Personally, I think both names are awesome but the wife doesn't agree. I keep threatening that I'm going to find a way to get either of those names on the birth certificate. She hasn't found these jokes funny.

Truth to be told, I nearly convinced Lindsay "Denali" would be a good middle name. It means "of the national parks" or something to that extent and is actually in the baby name book. I figured since I'm a bit of a national park dork that I could make it work. Though I do find it odd that a mountain that I'm pretty sure was named by native Alaskans well before the birth of this great country much less the advent of national parks could mean "of the national parks," but it was just ridiculous enough that I could have probably sold it if I really wanted to subject my child to that.

Speaking of subjecting a child to something, another name has been suggested that certainly would have raised eyebrows, subjected the kid to a lifetime of ridicule and/or questions like, "what the hell were your parents thinking?" Strangely enough the, the first name is the same as mine, John. The full name?

John Wilkes Luth

The Diaper Bag

There's a lot of crap to buy (or receive via registry gifts or as handouts from neighbors and siblings - thank god for both registries and the fact that other people have done this before) when a first baby comes along. One of the items that I hadn't initially considered but was directly instructed I needed to procure via my own means was a "daddy" diaper bag.

There are actually quite a few gender neutral options and even a couple manufacturers like Diaper Dude that make bags aimed at the involved father. To be honest, I didn't really care for any of these options. I get that bags from Diaper Dude are specifically designed for the purpose, I just couldn't get over the name and the logo just made it feel like they were trying too hard to cater to dads and masculinity, if that makes sense.

I started doing a little research and a little thinking. I asked myself, what characteristics do diaper bags have? Easy to carry, space for stuff and a bunch of compartments. My second thought was to go to my three favorite outdoor specialist manufacturers when it comes to luggage: Osprey, Patagonia, and The North Face. Unfortunately (but expected), they didn't have any bags specifically made for that purpose. Knowing that diaper bags need to be easy to carry, have space for stuff, and a bunch of compartments, I thought a little bit more. What other kind of bag typically has space for stuff, a bunch of compartments, and is easy to carry? A backpack. Who makes backpacks? Osprey, Patagonia, and The North Face. The dream was alive.

I sent an email to a former college roommate, who's much further advanced in this parenting thing than I am (and will probably ever be). I asked what he had done. His response was something to the effect of, "we got a special diaper bag and quickly moved into a backpack." This pretty much sealed it. Why even go through the motions of getting a special diaper bag? Why not just move straight to the backpack?

So yes, I used the excuse of having a child to add yet another backpack to the arsenal. In hindsight, the arsenal may have already contained such a pack, but it just seems so unsanitary to start your child's life with a diaper bag you've dragged across the world. I'd much rather have the diaper desanitized by things produced by said baby.

After careful consideration and hours of painstaking research (I left the unimportant research on things like the stroller and car seat to Lindsay), I finally landed on an answer: The North Face Surge. I figure worst case, even if it turns out to be a crappy diaper bag, I've got a brand new backpack designed for things like carrying a laptop and other suburban pursuits. It's a win-win.

"The Gift of Motherhood"

One of the battles I elected not to fight during this whole pregnancy thing was on the classes to attend. OK, so maybe I battled the quantity of classes, but knowing my wife, I knew there would be classes. Even though I'm relatively certain that, over the course of history, more babies have been born to parents that didn't attend classes than born to parents that have, I knew there would be classes.

Rather than spreading out our required learning over the course of three Wednesday evenings, we binged on expectant parenting and took it all in last Saturday on a session called "The Gift of Motherhood" scheduled from 9 - 4.

Overall, the day was less worthless than I had expected. How's that for a rousing endorsement? On the positive side, during the morning session the instructor did a nice job of explaining what the physiological changes are that take place in the mother's body during and after labor. For some reason, having an explanation about what's actually going on inside (and now knowing what the word effacement means when the doctors use it) gives this whole experience a sense of reality and logic rather than it just being referred to as a miracle or magical.

Every expectant mother there was accompanied by a supporter, with one exception, all of those supporters were the spouse (one woman's husband wasn't able to join so her mother came). As a means to help all of us idiot first-time fathers to understand what our wives were going through, we were forced to where a 35 pound weight suit, complete with breasts and all. Maybe I'm more sensitive than the average father-to-be, but I'm not sure how putting on a weight suit makes me any more sensitive or understanding. I get that my wife has gained weight during the pregnancy. I get that that sucks. I get that that can't be comfortable. I've probably gained 35 pounds since my low weight in India. It sucks. I get it. Wearing a weight suit isn't going to make me a better parent. On the other hand, other than watching David Schwimmer fall of a table on Friends, seeing me in the weight suit is one of the few times you'll hear Lindsay laugh out loud, so it had that going for it which is nice.

Just before lunch the group went on a tour of the birthing section of the hospital. This was another aspect of the class I had made fun of prior to attending. How many other medical procedures are there where you visit the hospital for a look around to get comfortable with your surroundings? While I was skeptical, I must admit that helped to understand the their process, when we'll move from the birthing suite to the recovery suite (yes, it's obnoxious that they call them suites, but I'm using their nomenclature, not mine), and what to expect throughout our stay. It didn't hurt that they also mentioned that both mom and dad get a massage during the stay. Nice to see our healthcare dollars being put to use.

After the tour, the class took a slight turn toward the realistic. They showed a video of three mothers going through labor, answering questions about what it was like, and finally, showing the actual births. I hadn't seen an actual birth on video since high school. They showed it in biology class as a means to understand the reproductive systems but the true motivation behind showing had to be birth control. Seeing a similar video 20 years later was no more "meaningful" or "beautiful" - it was still, honestly, pretty gross. Based on the look of horror on Lindsay's face, it was safe to assume she was going through a similar set of emotions.

Once the scare tactics ended, there was swaddling and diaper application for beginners. Probably things I could have figured out on my own, but always good to get a refresher. I'm pretty sure the last diaper I changed was for the kids I babysat next door when I was in high school. And yes, I realize the fact I have niece and nephew that are eleven months old whose diapers I've never changed makes me a crappy uncle. Even worse that I'm the godfather to the nephew. Something tells me I have more than my fair share coming my way in the next few years.

As we progressed through the afternoon, it was obvious that we didn't have enough material to prolong the class until 4pm. I got that same feeling you get in college or grad school, especially when it's a once-a-week class where it's obvious you're going to get out early. You get giddy. You get excited. It's like you've found time. And so at 3pm when the class ended, we merrily made our way to the car, hit Park Avenue in Winter Park, got a coffee, shopped a little, had an early dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Prato, and made it home by 6:30pm. Not a bad little reward for a day spent in class.

I had expected a painfully slow day filled with people prolonging the class by asking unnecessary questions (everyone knows people like this); thankfully, there was only one extraneous question-asker in the class and the class wasn't that bad (I know, another ringing endorsement). Could I have become a father without attending? Absolutely. Where there parts that annoyed me? Absolutely. Do I regret going? Not terribly. If nothing else, I learned that the late afternoon circuit in Winter Park might be a regular thing once baby arrives and before baby becomes mobile.

Overall, I'd call the day a success.

It's Not Delhi Belly, Weeks 31 - 35

I didn't realize it had been since before Christmas that I had last posted weekly pictures. That being said, I'm not going to waste much time because there's not much time to waste. Here are the last five installments, all taken here in Orlando; no more travel for either of us until the little one arrives. Since we're not travelling, it's always nice to know that two of the more notable guards in the house, Raji (week 32) and Sharky (week 35) have her back.

And yep, she still looks GREAT (not that I'm biased or anything).

Week 31

Week 32

Week 33

Week 34

Week 35

The Registry

I'm in no way a handyman. In fact, there are about four house projects for which I'm qualified: hanging blinds, installing dimmer switches (quite the advanced project for someone of my skill level), hanging shelves, and assembling any type of furniture involving an Allen wrench. Even with this limited skill set, I can work my way around Home Depot or Lowe's and have a relatively decent idea of where to go and what I'm looking for. In my younger days, I would roam around those stores with a befuddled look, crisscrossing the store, and generally getting more and more frustrated by the minute.

These days, home improvement stores have been replaced in the befuddlement department by baby stores. Even though I'm eight weeks away from becoming a parent, I have a horrible (actually, it's not really that horrible as I don't really like the stores, but as an expectant parent society tells me I should feel horrible) feeling that I'll never quite get comfortable in the big box baby stores, which made for a somewhat frustrating evening. An evening spent clearing off the registry.

I thought clearing the registry would be a relatively easy task that would resemble a quick look the remaining items, confirming what was still needed, and quickly shoveling items into a cart as we moved briskly through the store. This expectation came to a crashing halt within minutes of entering. Nine minutes to be exact. You never know how long nine minutes is until you've watched your wife walk around an infant clothing section looking for mittens, a hat, and socks, none of which, mind you, were on the registry. Somehow my expectation of crossing things off a checklist had morphed into some sort of sick shopping expedition. Part of the issue was that when she registered she knew about as much about baby stores as I do now (she's easily at a more advanced level).

You might also be asking yourself, isn't "T minus 8 weeks" a little early to be clearing off the list? To be honest, I don't know. What I do know is that the fact that it wasn't done was causing stress in a person to be named. Since my job is basically to remove as much stress from that person to be named's life, I didn't ask any questions or put up a fight. We found the earliest night that worked and it's one less thing on the list.

Even though I'm smart enough to know my stress reduction role, I'm not going to lie, my attitude didn't start out terribly well. When Lindsay showed me a $60 theremoscan electronic ear thermometer, my response was something like this, "Did you have that when you were a kid? Are you still standing here? Then I think we can probably do without." I'm all for technology and realize there are things available that weren't thirty-plus years ago, but I drew a line at a $60 thermoscan electronic ear thermometer.

Shortly after the thermometer incident we found ourselves in the pacifier section. Like any normal person, I expected to find a few different types of pacifiers but I didn't think an item so simple would deserved its own L-shaped interior section with shelves from floor to ceiling. I was sorely mistaken. I had no idea what the differences were but thankfully we had been told, "just pick out a mix of them and the kid will figure out which one he or she likes." That's exactly the kind of randomness that could change my attitude.

Eventually we worked our way around the store though I still had to push a little bit; when shopping with Lindsay she can easily regress into dawdle mode which means she can take far longer than necessary to get around a store. I'm fine with this, I think it's somewhat therapeutic for her (though it's usually at Target), I just tend to be more fine with it when I'm not involved.

On the bright side, it's one less thing that needs to be done. We're in really good shape on the material side of things - the nursery is 95% complete (the remaining 5% being finalizing what to put on the walls) and the house stocked to handled a newborn. Over the next few weeks, we shift out attention to the classes. Let's just hope the little bugger sticks in the oven long enough for us to complete the classes. And yes, I've gently tried the argument that there are far more babies raised in the world by parents that didn't attend a class than those that did but that's one of those areas where I've decided it's not in my best interest to push. Those classes are nowhere near as ridiculous as a $60 thermoscan electronic ear thermometer.

How Long is Pregnancy?

One of the strangest and most problematic aspects of pregnancy is trying to determine exactly how long a woman has, in fact, been pregnant.

In my limited experience, there are three calculations:

• When determining “how far along” you are for medical check ups, you’re basically on a 40 week schedule which starts around the last menstrual cycle prior to the pregnancy. But if that’s before the pregnancy starts, how can that be the starting point? I never realized a due date is determined from that date which has no direct relationship to conception.
• The generally held standard, at least as I understood it, was that pregnancy lasted 9 months. If there are 52 weeks in a year and nine months is three-fourths of a year, this calculation would mean that a pregnancy would last 39 weeks (I’m good at that math stuff).
• If you’re measuring from conception, that’s a trickier since it’s not always entirely clear what the start point is. Based on my rudimentary knowledge of ovulation, I’m under the impression that the “best” time is approximately halfway through a standard 28 day cycle (and yes, I feel as awkward writing about this topic as you’re probably getting by reading it) which would cut two weeks from the 40 week schedule in the first calculation. Said another way, 38 weeks.

So there you have it, three calculations, all with different answers. The one thing I’ve heard people say is that pregnancy is ten months. I think it’s clear that that is not the case. A month has more than four weeks, so unless you’re pregnant in some weird year that inexplicably has ten straight Februarys, the standard gestational period is less than ten months. Case closed on that calculation, which is why it didn't get its own bullet point.

Since months have inconsistent numbers of days, the generic “nine month” calculation is utterly useless and really should just be stricken from the lexicon of pregnancy. And to be honest, since Lindsay has been pregnant, I’ve never thought of her as “x” months pregnant. Though she has recently started making reference to the "fact" that she'll be "8 months pregnant" at 32 weeks, which is next Friday. I've tried to argue that fact but the only thing it causes is confusion.

Other than the looming "8 month mark," we speak in weeks (even though, until recently I have to admit that I got confused as to how many weeks along she was – I’m not a total stereotype though as I’ve always remembered the due date, which is February 22 – it’s possible I’ve remembered that just because 2/22 is easy, perhaps even easier than our wedding anniversary, October 4 – ten-four, good buddy).

However, if you measure in weeks, it makes trying to identify the start and end point of a trimester difficult, given neither 40 nor 38 are divisible by three. It also would seem strange, if you use the forty week measure, to start your first trimester two weeks before you’re even pregnant. Using that logic, every woman without child is technically pregnant two weeks out of every month of her entire life.

While there’s really no milestone that marks the start or end of a trimester, it just seems like other than the first is when you’re supposed to be sick, the second is when you’re supposed to glow, and the third is when you basically want nothing more than to just have the child.

At the end of the day, I guess it really doesn't matter - so what if it causes confusion as to what "month" your wife is trying to complete in her pregnancy journal and you secretly wishing it just said, "weeks 29 - 32" to alleviate that confusion. The goal is to keep the little bugger in the oven for as long as possible, even if your wife isn't sure which "month" to be filling in the pregnancy journal.

It's Not Delhi Belly, Weeks 29 - 30

Lindsay spent the weekend after Thanksgiving weekend in Chicago getting showered with gifts (I tagged along and got some time with family and friends as well). That trip marked the end of Lindsay's air travel until after the arrival of Baby Luth. It ended an aggressive fall travel season that basically involved leaving Orlando every other weekend and included such exotic locales as: Chicago, Raleigh, New York City (Lindsay only), Great Smoky Mountain National Park (John only), Key West, Disney World (OK, that's not really travel but it's about as far away from the Orlando we've come to know over the past year), and Chicago again. In Lindsay's words, it's time to nest.

I had the pleasure of an additional trip to the Chicago area last week for work but I'm officially shut down (from a travel standpoint) until after the first of the year. After this week of work, we're taking off between Christmas and New Year's. It's the first time we've been in this country where we won't be working those days (last year doesn't count based on the fact we were moving and ending the most hectic December of our lives). Bottom line, we're looking to the down time.

Enough of the rambling, here's the latest two weeks of pictures. It's still not Delhi belly (sorry for the flash/demon eyes on Week 30, I was simply too lazy to get the photo off the DSLR).


Week 29

Week 30

 

Are Dads Morons?

Last night before going to a movie, we stopped by the local Buy Buy Baby - it's what suburban folk with or expecting children do when they're not too busy at The Home Depot or Buy Buy Baby's sister store, Bed Bath & Beyond. We had merchandise to exchange, and I wanted to see the stroller Lindsay had selected. I think she made a great choice, and that's after the Buy Buy Baby dude said it was the best single stroller that converted into a double for a second child. Huh? I'm pretty sure I've agreed to a one child deal with an option on a second, but last night at Buy Buy Baby didn't seem like the time and place to have that conversation. Regardless, it appears as though she selected the perfect stroller, the Baby Jogger City Select. It folds easily, has cool tires, and pushes like a dream.

What irked me about Buy Buy Baby last night was a onesie that basically implied Dads are morons. (for those fathers that don't know what a onesie is, you may be the target market for the item below; I'd highly recommend your spouse, significant other, or a catty friend of that special person make the purchase).

I get it, very funny: Dads are idiots that don't take care of children. While the shirt isn't entirely inaccurate as I really have no idea what I'm getting myself into (I do, in fact, know what a head and arms look like and how to operate a snap), I have the exact same amount of parenting experience as my wife. To no one's surprise, the "Mommy-proof" onesies were nowhere to be found.

I'm sure this isn't the last time I'll be discriminated against. We just signed up a class at the hospital called "The Gift of Motherhood" which you'd think the name would suggest is a class for mothers. It's not. I'll be spending 8 hours on a Saturday happily attending. I get that this pregnancy thing is 90% plus about the mother, but is it to much to ask for a little respect, for some level of benefit of the doubt? Can't I at least screw up before having people shove "Daddy is an idiot" onsies in my face?

Just like it's not 1955 where the only "acceptable" female professions included nursing, teaching, and switch board operating, it's not like 1955 where males get involved in the actual child rearing.

(And if you buy me the onesie pictured above, you might get punched in the nose.)

It's Not Delhi Belly

On February 22, give or take a few days, I’m scheduled to become a father for the first time. I’m not going to lie, I have no idea what I’m getting myself into. Many of our friends already have kids, so I'm sure I can learn from them. Thankfully, there seems to be a second wave of friends and/or acquaintances in their mid-thirties all trying this parenting thing for the first time, many of whom with due dates within plus or minus three months (which means some are even lucky enough to get that little tax miracle in 2012). Taxes notwithstanding, I'm sure we'll learn together.

That being said, we have some things taken care of and other things are not. The nursery is 95% complete (I realize it’s early, you realize it’s early, let’s not share that with my wife). We’ve read a little about what’s been going on in various books, though probably not as diligently as we had planned. We’ll take some sort of classes after the first of the year. We'll get the tour of the hospital. I still have no idea how to install a car seat. We’ll finalize whether we’re going to get a nanny or elect daycare (we’re leaning heavily toward giving the nanny thing a shot). We still need to find a pediatrician. There is still a lot to do.

Regardless of how well or how much we prepare, the one thing that doesn’t change is the fact there’s an actual human being growing inside my wife, which becomes more and more evident each day. While we haven’t found a need to track on a daily basis, for the past few weeks I’ve sent a picture and email to family on Friday called, “It’s not Delhi belly, week "xx." Some might find that title offensive or inappropriate (for those not familiar with the term “Delhi belly,” it’s basically the Indian equivalent of “Montezuma’s Revenge” or whatever mild-to-severe, generic gastro-intestinal issues might befall a visitor to the developing world.); however, the reality is, what is getting documented is not Delhi belly, so it’s completely accurate.

Plus, Lindsay looks awesome, so how can it be offensive (though it will be interesting to see how long she let’s me continue this little recurring bit)?

With that, I get you up to speed on the previous eight weeks in anticipation of tomorrow's newest (and only) weekly feature, where you can follow along with what is most certainly not Delhi belly (and yes, I think Lindsay is looking into copyrighting an official “pregnant pose” and/or wearing a cardigan while pregnant).

Week 21

Week 22

Week 23, Central Park

Week 24

Week 25, Key West

Week 26

Week 27, Magic Kingdom

Week 28