Ages 16-22: She better not get pregnant; wouldn’t that just screw up her school, her career, her whole life…

Age 22.5: Well this Joshua thing seems to be pretty serious. I wonder when the babies are coming?

Age 23-25: Babies babies babies are coming any day nowwwwwww…

Age 25.5: What the hell? Maybe she needs some advice.

Age 28: She says she doesn’t want kids but I know better.

Age 30: Utter. Despair.

Age 31: Glimmer of hope? Nope. Shot down.

Age 32: Utter. Despair.

Age 33: I knew it! I always knew it! Maybe she needs some advice.

——-

Weeks 6-11: Whoa. Look at those knockers!

Week 17: Probably overate.

Week 20: Maybe pregnant but I better not say anything in case I get decked.

Week 25: Definitely pregnant but I better not touch the belly in case I get decked. Maybe she needs some advice.

Week 30: You’re 30 weeks already?! Jeez—you hardly look it; are you sure you’re gaining enough weight?

Week 30: oh mY GOD! You’re HUUUGE!!

Week 36: Hmm, I can’t decide between the pink kitten ruffle bib or this pastel lavender lace bomb. No matter! I’m sure she’ll need them both. (And probably some advice.)

Week 39: Holy Crap! Whatddya got in there, a volkswagon!?

Week 39 1/2: “How do you feel?” “Are you looking for the bathroom Ma’am?” “I thought you would have had that thing already!” “Wow are you having twins?” “There’s this pizza place in northeast; guaranteed to put you in labor. If, you know, you were interested…” “How do you feel?”

Week 39 3/4: She’s gonna blow! Run for cover! Har Har. No, seriously, maybe she needs some advice.

——-
Postpartum
Week 1: “Ohhhh! When are you due?” Hey! She decked me!

[Three days old.]

[One week with wide-open eyes.]

My mom arrived on Thursday and we all spent the next couple days hanging around staring at my belly and waiting for me to go off. Saturday night, I finally did. Except I sort of didn’t realize it. Read on (if you dare–and I’m serious here) for a lengthy tale of denial, bodily fluids, unmedicated birth, the word “unpleasant,” and did I mention denial?

(more…)

Ronin was born yesterday, the 13th, at 12:24 in the afternoon. She’s 7 lbs 9 ozs and 20″ long with a full head of hair and a healthy colon.

I’ll leave the birth story for Cheyenne to tell…

[How much bigger can it possibly get?]

Officially “term” and officially insured!! It’s all very exciting. Starting at 36 weeks, the doctor checked my cervix to see if there was progression and lo, there was: I was already dilated a little—enough that she said she could reach in and touch the baby’s head—and the cervix was thinning out. Also, the head was low and lining up “nicely.” Ahhh, good stuff. A week later, my cervix was quite a lot thinner, there was more dilation and the head was squarely smack in the middle of my pelvis, mere inches from the exit, and “engaged.” Which is to say, wedged down in a funnel and quite probably stuck there for the remainder of the pregnancy.

Poor baby with her head stuck down in a hole! I keep imagining the old cartoon scenario where the unfortunate hero gets his head stuck in, say, a bucket. Trying to dislodge the bucket, he employs both arms and legs, feet desperately pushing against the bucket. I feel like this baby is trying out some of the same moves.

Also, all this effacement and dilation and head engaged business sounds pretty serious; I just might be having a baby here in the next week or two (cough). Happily, the midwife at the clinic went on about how the positioning is perfect (head wedged down in a hole = good positioning from everyone’s standpoint except possibly the baby’s) and complimented me on my ischial spines, which are “wide and roomy” with “pleeeeenty” of space for the baby. I of course made her repeat a few times just how great the insides of my pelvis were; pregnant girls like to hear things like this.

The frontal view = Oh My God.

I had to have Joshua tie my shoes the other day. Then I had to have him untie the freaky knots he tied because they were different than the knots I usually tie. Eating at a table is also getting difficult because it is uncomfortable to lean forward. Unfortunately, if I don’t hover directly over what it is I am trying to eat, I will spill food down my shirt, get drips on the belly-shelf, and any cleavage drops won’t be discovered until I’m lying in bed and wondering where all the crumbs came from.

At this point it is difficult not to over-analyze every pang or movement because I worry about whether I will know when I’m in labor. “Hmm, my back has a weird twingey ache… COULD THIS BE IT?!?” only to discover after timing it for half an hour that I’ve been leaning up against the laptop’s power supply. Of course, the general consensus of every single person who has ever been pregnant (note: this is a formidable group who is not shy about offering advise) is that there is absolutely NO mistaking actual labor for anything else. But it still makes me wonder how many of those women spent quality time unwittingly sitting on their laptop cords.

Many people we know have been expressed their intense curiosity as to how Joshua and I will react as people when we have the baby. As in, will we change—I’m guessing this is what people mean—in that way that life-changing events are supposed to change a person’s worldview. Will we turn overnight from obstinate cynics to quivering blobs of schmaltz who worship the very mucus that flows forth from our baby’s nostrils? I’ve been told “Oh everything will be different, you don’t even know!” about everything from Ayn Rand books to marriage (the baby being no exception) and I have to say, without going so far as to declare it all a complete crock, I don’t think I ever felt or acted much different after any of it. I don’t mean to say I don’t change or ever do things differently because that’s certainly not true (I’m always a better person once I’ve had my breakfast, for example), but I change constantly all the time because of everything around me. And still I am always the same person.

That said, I’ve warmed up considerably to the various baby accoutrements out there. Not the pink kitten ruffle-bomb girly-girl outfits, no those I can live without. I’m talking things like baby booties or, well, here’s the most recent baby purchase and I picked this one out over the others because it was JUST SO CUTE!

Behold: The Infant Nose Bulb.

To me it looks like some little Japanese anime character. “Tiradroppu,” whose special power might be to ward off nightmares or something. To counter the adorableness and remind you that what you have is actually a serious and utilitarian baby appliance, they have added a sobering red cross graphic to the side.

I added my own graphic to the other side though!