Walk a mile in my shoes and your heels will pinch. I've been denying it for awhile now, but my running shoes aren't fitting so well anymore. I thought if I could just drink enough water, maybe my feet wouldn't swell and I could avoid the whole barefoot and pregnant look. While I don't have "cankles," (a really unflattering term I learned during pregnancy to describe the lack of definition between the calves and feet due to swelling) biology says pregnant woman's feet can change shape, mainly by growing (permanently) flatter, and as much as I had hoped that I could just will away certain side effects, something has changed. Now the beds of my shoes feel too narrow at the heels, and I really wasn't expecting changes in my feet there. But, hey stranger things have happened during pregnancy.
I finally started shopping for new shoes and discovered that entering a running shoe store is far more humorous when you're pregnant. Sometimes I feel overly self conscious about looking pregnant, because I'd prefer to blend in with the crowd. There are some Uptown bars (ahem, meat markets) packed with tall, skinny, well-dressed singles on a drunken prowl where as a married pregnant woman who prefers to go to bed at 9:30 p.m., I feel horribly out of place. But as long as I don't draw too much unwanted attention, it can be fun to shock people's assumptions. As for the running shoe store, you don't catch anyone as off guard as you do lifting weights at the gym or carting an (empty) vodka box on each shoulder out of a liquor store, (really, I was looking for storage boxes and those boxes are the perfect size for books) but being in places some would least expect a pregnant woman to be, even as benign a location as a running shoe store, can be surprisingly uplifting.
As I walked in, I wanted to imagine the salespeople and fellow shoppers were in awe in the presence of a pregnant athlete. (An athlete who considers a 5K a long race. Shhhh....) Or at least I let them think I'm still a runner, since knee problems pre-pregnancy sidelined my running regime long ago and I haven't actually tried to run since my 17th or 18th week. Or maybe some of that runner's natural high was rubbing off on me and being around people who like to exercise made me feel like a runner again. Kind of like watching gourmet cooking shows makes you feel like a cook without actually doing any cooking on your own part. Either way, I liked the extra attention from the saleswoman and talking about running as if I weren't actually pregnant. It just made me feel normal again.
Next, I'd like to make a stop at Lowe's and ask to see their jackhammers.
Kiera, Matteo, Oliver and Soren
Monday, August 31, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Does Your Baby Care What Color the Diaper Bag Is?
Because of my desire to acquire as little stuff as possible, I had not considered a diaper bag an essential piece of baby gear. (Essential being defined as contributing to the health, safety and welfare of the child.) Well, at least something marketed specifically as a diaper bag. Wouldn't the unused messenger bag sitting on a shelf in the garage suffice? After talking to friends who actually have kids, I reconsidered and decided that a proper diaper bag, with its baby-related features, like pockets for bottles and a built-in changing pad, is worth buying if you've got the money, because it just makes life with a baby that much easier.
Since I was leery about the quality of a bag found at a big box store, (another piece of advice I received: you will carry that thing everywhere and want something that wipes down easily and will last) but hadn't been directed to anything else but high-priced bags you'd find in a boutique, I was surprised to learn that Land's End carries diaper bags. And they got good reviews from the Baby Bargains book for their durability and price.
When I approached the customer service counter to ask if they had any diaper bags in stock for me to look at, I was caught off guard by the first question out of the saleswoman's mouth, "Boy or girl?" The question was not asked out of personal curiosity, but rather, because they did have some in the stock room and she wanted to know which ones to fetch for me.
I wanted to snap, "Does it matter?!" but managed to squeak out a pleasant-sounding, "We don't know." "We're not into the boy/girl 'colors'" came out a little more sarcastically, especially with my use of air quotes. I've grudgingly accepted that many people in this country want to dress their girls in pink-frilly dresses and their boys in blue overalls, and that there's sadly no in-between. But diaper bags? Does the baby really care what color the diaper bag is? The baby will not be carrying it. Mom will. And hopefully dad will. Which lead me to conclude, "I just want something my husband will carry."
That was a recommendation from a dad himself. Go for something gender neutral, he advised, so your husband will want to carry the bag. Gender neutral in the baby world is easier said than done.
Despite the feminine-designed diaper canvas cotton totes modeled after the well-known Land's End totes the saleswoman brought out to me, (the cotton canvas was going to fail the wipe test and the design was going to even more miserably fail the "Will my husband be caught dead with this slung over his shoulder?" test) the rest of the company's diaper bags came in a choice of bold colors mixed with black. They even had one in a backpack style, similar to one we'd seen a dad carrying just a few days before. It's user-friendly and looks tough enough for the task. The final test will be whether it's dad-approved.
Since I was leery about the quality of a bag found at a big box store, (another piece of advice I received: you will carry that thing everywhere and want something that wipes down easily and will last) but hadn't been directed to anything else but high-priced bags you'd find in a boutique, I was surprised to learn that Land's End carries diaper bags. And they got good reviews from the Baby Bargains book for their durability and price.
When I approached the customer service counter to ask if they had any diaper bags in stock for me to look at, I was caught off guard by the first question out of the saleswoman's mouth, "Boy or girl?" The question was not asked out of personal curiosity, but rather, because they did have some in the stock room and she wanted to know which ones to fetch for me.
I wanted to snap, "Does it matter?!" but managed to squeak out a pleasant-sounding, "We don't know." "We're not into the boy/girl 'colors'" came out a little more sarcastically, especially with my use of air quotes. I've grudgingly accepted that many people in this country want to dress their girls in pink-frilly dresses and their boys in blue overalls, and that there's sadly no in-between. But diaper bags? Does the baby really care what color the diaper bag is? The baby will not be carrying it. Mom will. And hopefully dad will. Which lead me to conclude, "I just want something my husband will carry."
That was a recommendation from a dad himself. Go for something gender neutral, he advised, so your husband will want to carry the bag. Gender neutral in the baby world is easier said than done.
Despite the feminine-designed diaper canvas cotton totes modeled after the well-known Land's End totes the saleswoman brought out to me, (the cotton canvas was going to fail the wipe test and the design was going to even more miserably fail the "Will my husband be caught dead with this slung over his shoulder?" test) the rest of the company's diaper bags came in a choice of bold colors mixed with black. They even had one in a backpack style, similar to one we'd seen a dad carrying just a few days before. It's user-friendly and looks tough enough for the task. The final test will be whether it's dad-approved.
32-Week Appointment
Work obligations at Chris's job finally didn't conflict with an appointment at the new clinic and I was looking forward to Chris meeting my new doctor at my 32-week appointment. I thought he'd really like her, and frankly, since I rave about him at every appointment, I kind of want her to meet the guy and prove he exists.
Unfortunately, the doctor wasn't in. She was being held up in emergency surgery. "Maybe she was called because they had to cut someone's leg off," suggested Chris. I laughed, but countered that they could find someone more qualified for that type of surgery than an OB.
With the doctor a no-show, (emergency c-section turns out - should have guessed) we met with the midwife in the practice. Obstetrician offices have two main systems for seeing pregnant women. Under one system, every patient is assigned a primary OB, but at each appointment, she sees a different doctor or midwife from the practice. The advantage with this scenario is that you have an opportunity to meet everyone, (and obtain different opinions on answers to questions) because you really don't know who will deliver your baby. Vacation, illness and the doctor's on-call schedule mean anyone could be in the on-deck circle when you go into labor.
At my current clinic, you see "your" doctor every appointment, and I think I prefer it this way, because I have the opportunity to build a rapport with someone. Any doctor would be able to see my chart, but I don't have to repeat my fears or concerns to her and she would better pick up on changes in mood or physical condition. In the end, I'm not worried about who will actually deliver my baby, but of course I do hope it's my doctor. She laughs easily and has got an attitude that is encouraging and not bossy. She's the type I imagine giving me a high five after delivery.
The midwife was as friendly as she was chill. I've kept my routine appointments routine by just asking whatever questions pop into my head while the nurse is taking my blood pressure or the doctor is measuring my stomach or the baby's heart beat. My time in the waiting room can last longer than the actual appointment itself. But when I pulled out a piece of paper with a long list of questions, the midwife leaned towards the exam table, propped her elbow on it, settled her head into her hand and looked as if she had all day to answer questions. Perhaps my need to now come to my appointments more organized is because I feel as if my due date is starting to loom over me and I don't want to be left unprepared, or that Chris was there with me and it would be an opportunity for him to hear the answers first-hand, rather than second-hand.
My questions ranged from the procedural, like who do I call when I think I'm in labor, to ones that opened a dialogue on what the hospital or clinic's practices are in regards to hot topics like c-sections and inductions. Part of me couldn't help be wonder if I was the only one to ever ask such a question or voice a specific request. She put me at ease when she said that as a midwife, her patients are naturally more "earthy," and it was obvious my questions and concerns didn't faze her. I saw the hint of a wry smile when I asked if it's true if water spritzed with fresh lemon helps reduce water retention, (or it could have been that I lead the question off with, "I read on the Internet...") but it seemed as if it was one of the least random questions she's been asked.
I felt like I finally reached a comfortable middle ground with my opinion towards pregnancy and labor. I had always considered myself "earthy," but surprised myself that I was not interested in a natural birth, reading to my kid in utero, or going on a strict organic-only diet - all those things you think a wanna-be hippie would be into. My sense is that the midwife believed in alternative and spiritual practices, but as a health care professional, was also grounded in science. If something has no proven benefit, but it makes you feel better or more comfortable, go for it. If pain medications have side effects, but are not proven to be unhealthy for you or the baby, or if the benefits of continuing a medication while pregnant outweigh the proven negatives, then either decision one way or another is fine. Even within conventional science, there's still a broad range of choice, and in addition, room for wishes, hunches, or beliefs not yet "proven" by science.
Unfortunately, the doctor wasn't in. She was being held up in emergency surgery. "Maybe she was called because they had to cut someone's leg off," suggested Chris. I laughed, but countered that they could find someone more qualified for that type of surgery than an OB.
With the doctor a no-show, (emergency c-section turns out - should have guessed) we met with the midwife in the practice. Obstetrician offices have two main systems for seeing pregnant women. Under one system, every patient is assigned a primary OB, but at each appointment, she sees a different doctor or midwife from the practice. The advantage with this scenario is that you have an opportunity to meet everyone, (and obtain different opinions on answers to questions) because you really don't know who will deliver your baby. Vacation, illness and the doctor's on-call schedule mean anyone could be in the on-deck circle when you go into labor.
At my current clinic, you see "your" doctor every appointment, and I think I prefer it this way, because I have the opportunity to build a rapport with someone. Any doctor would be able to see my chart, but I don't have to repeat my fears or concerns to her and she would better pick up on changes in mood or physical condition. In the end, I'm not worried about who will actually deliver my baby, but of course I do hope it's my doctor. She laughs easily and has got an attitude that is encouraging and not bossy. She's the type I imagine giving me a high five after delivery.
The midwife was as friendly as she was chill. I've kept my routine appointments routine by just asking whatever questions pop into my head while the nurse is taking my blood pressure or the doctor is measuring my stomach or the baby's heart beat. My time in the waiting room can last longer than the actual appointment itself. But when I pulled out a piece of paper with a long list of questions, the midwife leaned towards the exam table, propped her elbow on it, settled her head into her hand and looked as if she had all day to answer questions. Perhaps my need to now come to my appointments more organized is because I feel as if my due date is starting to loom over me and I don't want to be left unprepared, or that Chris was there with me and it would be an opportunity for him to hear the answers first-hand, rather than second-hand.
My questions ranged from the procedural, like who do I call when I think I'm in labor, to ones that opened a dialogue on what the hospital or clinic's practices are in regards to hot topics like c-sections and inductions. Part of me couldn't help be wonder if I was the only one to ever ask such a question or voice a specific request. She put me at ease when she said that as a midwife, her patients are naturally more "earthy," and it was obvious my questions and concerns didn't faze her. I saw the hint of a wry smile when I asked if it's true if water spritzed with fresh lemon helps reduce water retention, (or it could have been that I lead the question off with, "I read on the Internet...") but it seemed as if it was one of the least random questions she's been asked.
I felt like I finally reached a comfortable middle ground with my opinion towards pregnancy and labor. I had always considered myself "earthy," but surprised myself that I was not interested in a natural birth, reading to my kid in utero, or going on a strict organic-only diet - all those things you think a wanna-be hippie would be into. My sense is that the midwife believed in alternative and spiritual practices, but as a health care professional, was also grounded in science. If something has no proven benefit, but it makes you feel better or more comfortable, go for it. If pain medications have side effects, but are not proven to be unhealthy for you or the baby, or if the benefits of continuing a medication while pregnant outweigh the proven negatives, then either decision one way or another is fine. Even within conventional science, there's still a broad range of choice, and in addition, room for wishes, hunches, or beliefs not yet "proven" by science.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Name That Baby Contest
We have thousands of names to choose from, but just can't seem to decide. Before Chris and I lock ourselves in a room for another name brainstorming session, I thought being able to bring some neutral names to the table could help us out. Instead of hashing out the same names, suggestions from blog readers could provide us with fresh alternatives we hadn't considered.
So let's hear them? What are your favorite names for girls and boys?
Chris is avoiding names so uncommon no one's ever heard of them, while I don't want one that's too common. We're trying to avoid the "trendy" names, all the while, hoping we don't settle on something too weird, or else people will think we made it up. I love foreign names, which might put a lot of them in the "never heard of them column" for Chris, who has had difficulty identifying with some of them. However, I am eliminating any foreign names that would be impossible for an English-speaker to pronounce or spell. Or when my friend's Italian boyfriend listed the most popular names for babies in Italy today, I explained to him that there are a couple of his suggestions that I could never give to an American boy because they're just too stereotypical Italian. He wouldn't be able to say his name in parts of the country with a strong Italian-American heritage without someone launching into a Guido imitation.
Sigh. The search continues.
So let's hear them? What are your favorite names for girls and boys?
Chris is avoiding names so uncommon no one's ever heard of them, while I don't want one that's too common. We're trying to avoid the "trendy" names, all the while, hoping we don't settle on something too weird, or else people will think we made it up. I love foreign names, which might put a lot of them in the "never heard of them column" for Chris, who has had difficulty identifying with some of them. However, I am eliminating any foreign names that would be impossible for an English-speaker to pronounce or spell. Or when my friend's Italian boyfriend listed the most popular names for babies in Italy today, I explained to him that there are a couple of his suggestions that I could never give to an American boy because they're just too stereotypical Italian. He wouldn't be able to say his name in parts of the country with a strong Italian-American heritage without someone launching into a Guido imitation.
Sigh. The search continues.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
I noticed the young woman eying me from across the maternity section at Target. I had made it a habit to of perusing the area after I discovered that you can sometimes find deals cheaper than what you would pay for at Goodwill, (and that the limited selection there is mostly size 16s....from Target).
She finally came over to me with a swimsuit in one hand and a dejected look on her face.
"How do you know if this fits?" she asked.
The non-preggers might have looked at her like she was crazy. Just try it on. Does it fit or not? But I knew what she meant. How does she know if it will fit in a few months or even next week? You know your stomach will grow, but you can't wrap your head around your body growing so rapidly out of proportion. You're unsure of where else on your frame your body will deposit its extra spare change.
It turns out the woman was actually shopping for her best friend who was eight weeks along and works at the pool at the Y. The friend was already complaining about not being able to find anything cute to wear and since they were the same size, she offered to kick-start the venture into the world of maternity fashion, starting with bathing suits. Ouch. My loyal readers know how much fun I had swimsuit shopping.
I was happy to be there to help. I was thrilled to offer my veteran advice as a 31-weeker to a newbie eight-weeker. I was finally on the other end of pregnancy sisterhood. But then I said something I hate when people say to me. (Okay, one of many things I hate when people say to me.) One can be honest about a negative experience while not trying to scare the other person. Instead, I said something along the lines of, "Sure, I'd love to help, because the next couple of months are going to suck for your friend."
I definitely used the work "suck." My grandmother is probably cringing at my eloquent use of the English language.
The woman's face fell instantly and she dropped her the hand holding the swimsuit to her side. For a moment, I thought it was maybe she who was really pregnant, not her "friend," but I decided she didn't look overwhelmed enough to be the one who was actually pregnant.
I quickly tried to soften my opening piece of advice and told her that I simply understood what it's like to have to find a whole new wardrobe and how it can be frustrating to try to figure out what you look good in. I tried to give some practical tips about clothes shopping and what to expect, hoping it would at least ease the anxiety and give her something to work with, even if it wouldn't completely cheer up her friend. Although I didn't have any good suggestions for bathing suits, I enthusiastically led her over to rack with the Bella Bands. I could become an official spokeswoman for this piece of miracle fabric - the tube-top like band that fits around your waist and holds up your unbuttoned pre-maternity jeans or the maternity pants you haven't yet grown into. The woman started to look hopeful. She seemed like she genuinely wanted to help her friend out, even if she had no clue herself where to start. But I had never even thought about maternity clothes until I was pregnant myself, so I thought it was great this woman was helping her friend figure it out.
I wished I had the website of my blog written on a business card so she could pass it along to her friend, who would read it and hopefully learn that worrying about things like clothes when everyone else is extolling the joys of pregnancy doesn't mean you're crazy or superficial. But instead of recapping the 26 weeks since I found out I was pregnant, I threw some more clothing advice at her and moved on so I wouldn't take up any more of her time. I'm sure she'd already gotten too much to completely make sense of.
She finally came over to me with a swimsuit in one hand and a dejected look on her face.
"How do you know if this fits?" she asked.
The non-preggers might have looked at her like she was crazy. Just try it on. Does it fit or not? But I knew what she meant. How does she know if it will fit in a few months or even next week? You know your stomach will grow, but you can't wrap your head around your body growing so rapidly out of proportion. You're unsure of where else on your frame your body will deposit its extra spare change.
It turns out the woman was actually shopping for her best friend who was eight weeks along and works at the pool at the Y. The friend was already complaining about not being able to find anything cute to wear and since they were the same size, she offered to kick-start the venture into the world of maternity fashion, starting with bathing suits. Ouch. My loyal readers know how much fun I had swimsuit shopping.
I was happy to be there to help. I was thrilled to offer my veteran advice as a 31-weeker to a newbie eight-weeker. I was finally on the other end of pregnancy sisterhood. But then I said something I hate when people say to me. (Okay, one of many things I hate when people say to me.) One can be honest about a negative experience while not trying to scare the other person. Instead, I said something along the lines of, "Sure, I'd love to help, because the next couple of months are going to suck for your friend."
I definitely used the work "suck." My grandmother is probably cringing at my eloquent use of the English language.
The woman's face fell instantly and she dropped her the hand holding the swimsuit to her side. For a moment, I thought it was maybe she who was really pregnant, not her "friend," but I decided she didn't look overwhelmed enough to be the one who was actually pregnant.
I quickly tried to soften my opening piece of advice and told her that I simply understood what it's like to have to find a whole new wardrobe and how it can be frustrating to try to figure out what you look good in. I tried to give some practical tips about clothes shopping and what to expect, hoping it would at least ease the anxiety and give her something to work with, even if it wouldn't completely cheer up her friend. Although I didn't have any good suggestions for bathing suits, I enthusiastically led her over to rack with the Bella Bands. I could become an official spokeswoman for this piece of miracle fabric - the tube-top like band that fits around your waist and holds up your unbuttoned pre-maternity jeans or the maternity pants you haven't yet grown into. The woman started to look hopeful. She seemed like she genuinely wanted to help her friend out, even if she had no clue herself where to start. But I had never even thought about maternity clothes until I was pregnant myself, so I thought it was great this woman was helping her friend figure it out.
I wished I had the website of my blog written on a business card so she could pass it along to her friend, who would read it and hopefully learn that worrying about things like clothes when everyone else is extolling the joys of pregnancy doesn't mean you're crazy or superficial. But instead of recapping the 26 weeks since I found out I was pregnant, I threw some more clothing advice at her and moved on so I wouldn't take up any more of her time. I'm sure she'd already gotten too much to completely make sense of.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Registering
Back at my 16-week appointment, the nurse at the front desk tried to give advice on the need for a registry. She was the latest, and not the last since, who was surprised or confused, and in her case, chided us for being naive enough not to think we didn't "need" to have a baby register.
For people who know that Chris and I didn't register for our wedding last year, I ask, does it surprise you we're not suddenly changing our opinion on the issue now that we have a baby on the way? It's unbelievable what kind of drama weddings stir up, so I was relieved, yet still shocked, that the lack of a registry was all that sent the in-law side of the family into a tizzy. (My dad, wisely, he thinks, stayed out of the debate at the first voicing of dismay.)
The pressure to register for a baby, I discovered, is more intense than for a wedding. The registry then was still supposedly about making it convenient for friends and family to know what you want, but traditional wedding gifts seem now like they were more about wants, like spoiling yourself and your partner with china, luxurious sheet and towel sets and kitchen ware you might or not might really ever use. Despite the lack of a registry, we received wonderful gifts and married life has progressed without missing what we didn't receive. However, when it came to having a baby, the tone changed from "How could you not want....?!" to "But you need...!" If I was made to feel weird or like an inconvenience to everyone who "loves you and just wants to be able to shower you with gifts in honor of your special day," to not register for a baby is to be made to feel like an unprepared, naive, bad mother who's not going to have the necessities for her kid. My interpretation of the reaction, dramatic yes, but judging mothers, or mothers-to-be, is also an age-old pastime, so it's easy to assume I'm being judged. (To be fair, while I felt that, as the bride, I received a disproportionate share of lack-of-registry grumblings, the disbelief at our lack of a registry for the baby seems to be directed equally at both Chris and me.)
After my wedding, my reasons for not wanting to register haven't changed, but only grown. Mainly, what would we put on it? As newbies, researching what would be needed and then deciding among the zillions of options was not something either of us was interested in. Like wedding planners, there is such a thing as a baby planner and one of this consultant's most requested tasks is to research and set up a baby registry. I think paying someone else to make a list to tell other people how they should spend their money on you is a ridiculous waste of money. Not gonna happen. And neither did the registry.
Having a baby has forced both Chris and me to reevaluate our lifestyle, our priorities, our budgets and how we want to raise our child. We concluded we don't want a lot of "stuff" and our lives feel less stressed with fewer possessions. Our home isn't large and we don't have a yard or a basement for storage, so I was actually feeling anxious about where we would fit all the new stuff for the baby. Imagining my small living room with its "open concept" plan (meaning you can see the mess from everywhere) littered with bouncy seats, activity stations, activity walkers, tummy time pillows and play mats with toys, mirrors, lights and music speakers dangling from plastic arches above-head, I panic and think, this isn't what I signed up for.
Chris and I haven't sworn off all material possessions, but the good thing about human pregnancies lasting so long is that it gives us time to process new information. In the early months, we stressed about what we would need and how much it would cost. A lot of research and talking with new parents later, we realized that there is actually a small list of things a baby "needs." Or to quote from a book written for expectant fathers,(which I read before Chris did - just wanted to see what he was being told about pregnant and crazy women) "Do you know what you really need for your newborn? Diapers, clothes, blankets and a pair of breasts to suck on. That's it! The rest are just extras....The rest will come later....For now, do as God intended."
Not exactly as I would have put it, but I was starting to see his point. Shortly afterwards, I was out for my daily walk and listening to a Pregtastic segment on baby gear and a mother of a newborn admitted that, gasp, she and her husband hadn't bothered to buy a stroller. For some reason, realizing that having a stroller isn't essential to buy before the baby is born, or even in the first few months, was like an epiphany. What other stuff did we not have to have? The feeling that we needed to have all the "essential" baby gear figured out, purchased and set up before the baby arrived had been a months-long burden and suddenly it was gone. It is one thing to prepare for something I have experience with, like a camping trip, because I already own some of the gear, I know what I need that I don't have, I know where to get it, and when I go to the store, I can talk the talk with the salesperson and not feel like an idiot. The baby world was (and still is) completely foreign to me and I don't know where to begin and my inexperience leaves me sometimes without even the right vocabulary or insight to ask the right questions. (If you haven't shopped for a car seat in the last decade, could you have thrown around phrases like "five-point harness," "EPS foam" or "LATCH system" and told me what they mean?) I vacillated between being weary with every purchase of being ripped off and the place where the baby industry wants you to be - so freaking scared you're going to be unprepared for the baby's arrival that you buy everything you think you'll possibly ever need - and then doubles of it.
After my baby gear epiphany, Chris and I did add some extra items to the bare-bones baby preparation list. The author of Baby Bargains , who was a guest on Pregtastic, and is one of the few sources I've encountered who encourages new parents not to spend a fortune on their future kids, did add that you need to think about where your baby will sleep, where you will change diapers and, how you will transport your baby safely in a vehicle,(whether it's your own, a taxi, or a friend or family member's car). We already have a crib and a dresser that will double as a changing table, but not even these are necessary to have before before the baby is born. Since we won't be able to drive home from the hospital without a car seat, we are in the process of getting one. As for the other truly necessary items, we have already acquired enough to feel like we've got a good start and for the rest, there's always Target.
Now that we actually feel like we have a handle on the needs, we have time and energy to focus on some of the wants that are fun to shop for or make life with a baby just a bit easier, like a cute coming home outfit for the baby or a baby monitor to satisfy the gadget-loving Chris.
As for the lack of registry, time and research to create one aside, Chris and I feel that as parents, we're responsible for the needs of our baby. That's not to say we don't love gifts and aren't touched by people's thoughtfulness. Receiving gifts that fall into the want category are still fun and in a way a relief, because they're often things we didn't know about, hadn't considered, or wouldn't have splurged on given other baby necessities. We've already received cool gifts for the baby from a toddler-sized Phillies t-shirt and a baby cap from Iceland to a Black Lab stuffed dog that I hope becomes our baby's favorite stuffed animal. (Until s/he starts asking, When are we going to get a real dog?) These are things that, of course, never would have been on our registry if we had one, but which we knew the baby will enjoy.
For people who know that Chris and I didn't register for our wedding last year, I ask, does it surprise you we're not suddenly changing our opinion on the issue now that we have a baby on the way? It's unbelievable what kind of drama weddings stir up, so I was relieved, yet still shocked, that the lack of a registry was all that sent the in-law side of the family into a tizzy. (My dad, wisely, he thinks, stayed out of the debate at the first voicing of dismay.)
The pressure to register for a baby, I discovered, is more intense than for a wedding. The registry then was still supposedly about making it convenient for friends and family to know what you want, but traditional wedding gifts seem now like they were more about wants, like spoiling yourself and your partner with china, luxurious sheet and towel sets and kitchen ware you might or not might really ever use. Despite the lack of a registry, we received wonderful gifts and married life has progressed without missing what we didn't receive. However, when it came to having a baby, the tone changed from "How could you not want....?!" to "But you need...!" If I was made to feel weird or like an inconvenience to everyone who "loves you and just wants to be able to shower you with gifts in honor of your special day," to not register for a baby is to be made to feel like an unprepared, naive, bad mother who's not going to have the necessities for her kid. My interpretation of the reaction, dramatic yes, but judging mothers, or mothers-to-be, is also an age-old pastime, so it's easy to assume I'm being judged. (To be fair, while I felt that, as the bride, I received a disproportionate share of lack-of-registry grumblings, the disbelief at our lack of a registry for the baby seems to be directed equally at both Chris and me.)
After my wedding, my reasons for not wanting to register haven't changed, but only grown. Mainly, what would we put on it? As newbies, researching what would be needed and then deciding among the zillions of options was not something either of us was interested in. Like wedding planners, there is such a thing as a baby planner and one of this consultant's most requested tasks is to research and set up a baby registry. I think paying someone else to make a list to tell other people how they should spend their money on you is a ridiculous waste of money. Not gonna happen. And neither did the registry.
Having a baby has forced both Chris and me to reevaluate our lifestyle, our priorities, our budgets and how we want to raise our child. We concluded we don't want a lot of "stuff" and our lives feel less stressed with fewer possessions. Our home isn't large and we don't have a yard or a basement for storage, so I was actually feeling anxious about where we would fit all the new stuff for the baby. Imagining my small living room with its "open concept" plan (meaning you can see the mess from everywhere) littered with bouncy seats, activity stations, activity walkers, tummy time pillows and play mats with toys, mirrors, lights and music speakers dangling from plastic arches above-head, I panic and think, this isn't what I signed up for.
Chris and I haven't sworn off all material possessions, but the good thing about human pregnancies lasting so long is that it gives us time to process new information. In the early months, we stressed about what we would need and how much it would cost. A lot of research and talking with new parents later, we realized that there is actually a small list of things a baby "needs." Or to quote from a book written for expectant fathers,(which I read before Chris did - just wanted to see what he was being told about pregnant and crazy women) "Do you know what you really need for your newborn? Diapers, clothes, blankets and a pair of breasts to suck on. That's it! The rest are just extras....The rest will come later....For now, do as God intended."
Not exactly as I would have put it, but I was starting to see his point. Shortly afterwards, I was out for my daily walk and listening to a Pregtastic segment on baby gear and a mother of a newborn admitted that, gasp, she and her husband hadn't bothered to buy a stroller. For some reason, realizing that having a stroller isn't essential to buy before the baby is born, or even in the first few months, was like an epiphany. What other stuff did we not have to have? The feeling that we needed to have all the "essential" baby gear figured out, purchased and set up before the baby arrived had been a months-long burden and suddenly it was gone. It is one thing to prepare for something I have experience with, like a camping trip, because I already own some of the gear, I know what I need that I don't have, I know where to get it, and when I go to the store, I can talk the talk with the salesperson and not feel like an idiot. The baby world was (and still is) completely foreign to me and I don't know where to begin and my inexperience leaves me sometimes without even the right vocabulary or insight to ask the right questions. (If you haven't shopped for a car seat in the last decade, could you have thrown around phrases like "five-point harness," "EPS foam" or "LATCH system" and told me what they mean?) I vacillated between being weary with every purchase of being ripped off and the place where the baby industry wants you to be - so freaking scared you're going to be unprepared for the baby's arrival that you buy everything you think you'll possibly ever need - and then doubles of it.
After my baby gear epiphany, Chris and I did add some extra items to the bare-bones baby preparation list. The author of Baby Bargains , who was a guest on Pregtastic, and is one of the few sources I've encountered who encourages new parents not to spend a fortune on their future kids, did add that you need to think about where your baby will sleep, where you will change diapers and, how you will transport your baby safely in a vehicle,(whether it's your own, a taxi, or a friend or family member's car). We already have a crib and a dresser that will double as a changing table, but not even these are necessary to have before before the baby is born. Since we won't be able to drive home from the hospital without a car seat, we are in the process of getting one. As for the other truly necessary items, we have already acquired enough to feel like we've got a good start and for the rest, there's always Target.
Now that we actually feel like we have a handle on the needs, we have time and energy to focus on some of the wants that are fun to shop for or make life with a baby just a bit easier, like a cute coming home outfit for the baby or a baby monitor to satisfy the gadget-loving Chris.
As for the lack of registry, time and research to create one aside, Chris and I feel that as parents, we're responsible for the needs of our baby. That's not to say we don't love gifts and aren't touched by people's thoughtfulness. Receiving gifts that fall into the want category are still fun and in a way a relief, because they're often things we didn't know about, hadn't considered, or wouldn't have splurged on given other baby necessities. We've already received cool gifts for the baby from a toddler-sized Phillies t-shirt and a baby cap from Iceland to a Black Lab stuffed dog that I hope becomes our baby's favorite stuffed animal. (Until s/he starts asking, When are we going to get a real dog?) These are things that, of course, never would have been on our registry if we had one, but which we knew the baby will enjoy.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Dancing Partners
We didn't have dancing at our wedding for a reason - neither of us likes to dance. And I don't think our parents like to dance either. So we decided, the heck with it, it's our wedding and we want to enjoy it, not feel awkward.
Sometimes I can like dancing though. I'm mesmerized by people who have talent and as long as there's no pressure, I have even found myself enjoying trying to salsa or swing dance. And when I first saw Jill and Kevin dancing down the aisle to the altar at their wedding on YouTube, I thought it was awesome. And then I wondered why I hadn't thought of that. In reality, though, I don't know if Chris and I would have pulled that off, either due to lack of rhythm or slipping on the muddy aisle.
Even when I discover small inspirations to dance, I have yet to convince Chris to even slow dance with me. Not even when I begged him for one song at the last wedding we went to. And then we found ourselves at "birth class." The nurse leading the class was walking us through positioning and movement techniques for relieving pain and tension during labor. Apparently, wrapping your arms around your partner and swaying side to side - mimicking slow dancing - feels very comfortable when you're in the early stages of labor. Alongside 20 or so other expecting couples, I embraced the opportunity to finally get Chris to dance with me.
Officially named "Preparing for Birth" by the hospital hosting the class, Chris and I had been calling it "Baby Class," "Birth Class" or "Birth 101." Typically offered as a five-week course one night a week, or as the condensed version over a Friday evening and Saturday (we opted for the 8.5-hour so-called "weekender"), this basic prenatal course becomes a crash course in everything you need to know about labor and your hospital stay. An instructor, usually a delivery room nurse, flies through topics such as signs of labor, stages of labor, what you need to bring to the hospital, how to pre-register, breastfeeding, pain relief, and of course, the breathing exercises everyone knows from the movies. Contrary to how most others who aren't expecting referred to our class, this was not a Lamaze class, which is a lot more specific than what we took. Lamaze is a childbirth method that focuses on childbirth coping strategies, including, but not limited to, breathing rhythms. During the dancing stint in the class we took, we also learned other relaxation techniques, such as massage (liked that) and a variety of breathing techniques (not as into).
As much as I enjoyed the class overall, I'll admit it's not absolutely necessary. Women have been giving birth since the beginning of time without a prior childbirth class. Chris's aunt successfully gave birth to her two children without any formal childbirth education, because both kids were born premature and before the classes she registered for took place. But most expecting parents find themselves signed up for a class, because it seems to be what's expected of you these days. All your expecting friends are taking them and then, in our case, our clinic advised us to be signed up before my 20th week. How could I have told my doctor no?
So there we were last Friday night putting in our time at Baby Class. Chris was less enthusiastic about attending, (the only class that ranked lower on his "wow, I can't believe I'm giving up a weekend for this" is the one a co-worker attended prior to his wedding on how to be a good Catholic husband), but I found myself looking forward to the class and a chance to hang out with other pregnant women. I saw the benefit in being as informed as possible and believed in the "knowledge is power" mantra that if you know what to expect during labor, it'll be less scary and stressful. So although I predicted not all the information would be new, I knew there had to be something Chris and I would take from the class. But a bit of anxiety set in when we sauntered into class and noticed every other couple had come armed with two pillows, a blanket, bags of snacks and water bottles, all dutifully carted in by the fathers-to-be. Chris and I were empty-handed and I suddenly felt wholly unprepared.
I started to wonder if ignorance really is bliss when the class began and my stress level immediately rose. At least I knew I wasn't imagining things when the instructor acknowledged that many of us will feel more anxious in the days following the class. She assured us those feelings will subside. I'm still waiting for that to happen. Much of the technical discussion made me not squeamish, just antsy to that point that I couldn't comfortably sit still. Within the first hour, I had already excused myself, but luckily, no one probably thought anything of a pregnant woman who leaves to presumably go to the bathroom. The birth videos weren't gory, but rather the women featured were calm. But that only proceeded to make me feel like I won't be so brave. I'll never live up to the women in the video.
There were some light-hearted parts of baby class. In the middle of describing early labor and your time in the delivery room, the instructor asked the class who controls the TV remote.
"Mom!" she answered cheerfully.
I shot a mischievous smile at Chris. I had already declared to Chris, unapologetically, that in the delivery room, things were going to happen my way, and now a medical authority figure was backing me up. I didn't realize that the topics of television, remotes and watching sports were hot-button issues until they were specifically addressed in the class.
Not even if your favorite sports team is playing, she stressed. Don't even think about "just checking the score."
I get a guaranteed respite from sports talk radio and football! The delivery room as total sports-free media haven! Woohoo!
There wasn't a single groan, not even from that one guy who seemed to challenge everything else the instructor said, and who you would have expected to ask, "But what if it's a REALLY big game?"
Despite the debate on exactly how necessary a childbirth class is, I'm still happy I had the opportunity to take the class. Much of the information fell into the "good to know" or "interesting to know" categories, as opposed to "your labor will be more disastrous if you don't pay attention now," but there was still much food for thought. When the instructor asked whether we had finished packing our suitcases for the hospital, Chris and I exchanged nervous glances, because we haven't even started, (granted, my due date is much later than anyone else in the class) let alone even considered what to pack. She also discussed birth plans, which inspired me to actually make a draft of mine. She had us consider the realities post labor, such as how we will take care of every day tasks like housecleaning, laundry and care of pets (if you have them) when you're exhausted and devoting every waking minute to a newborn.
Sometimes I can like dancing though. I'm mesmerized by people who have talent and as long as there's no pressure, I have even found myself enjoying trying to salsa or swing dance. And when I first saw Jill and Kevin dancing down the aisle to the altar at their wedding on YouTube, I thought it was awesome. And then I wondered why I hadn't thought of that. In reality, though, I don't know if Chris and I would have pulled that off, either due to lack of rhythm or slipping on the muddy aisle.
Even when I discover small inspirations to dance, I have yet to convince Chris to even slow dance with me. Not even when I begged him for one song at the last wedding we went to. And then we found ourselves at "birth class." The nurse leading the class was walking us through positioning and movement techniques for relieving pain and tension during labor. Apparently, wrapping your arms around your partner and swaying side to side - mimicking slow dancing - feels very comfortable when you're in the early stages of labor. Alongside 20 or so other expecting couples, I embraced the opportunity to finally get Chris to dance with me.
Officially named "Preparing for Birth" by the hospital hosting the class, Chris and I had been calling it "Baby Class," "Birth Class" or "Birth 101." Typically offered as a five-week course one night a week, or as the condensed version over a Friday evening and Saturday (we opted for the 8.5-hour so-called "weekender"), this basic prenatal course becomes a crash course in everything you need to know about labor and your hospital stay. An instructor, usually a delivery room nurse, flies through topics such as signs of labor, stages of labor, what you need to bring to the hospital, how to pre-register, breastfeeding, pain relief, and of course, the breathing exercises everyone knows from the movies. Contrary to how most others who aren't expecting referred to our class, this was not a Lamaze class, which is a lot more specific than what we took. Lamaze is a childbirth method that focuses on childbirth coping strategies, including, but not limited to, breathing rhythms. During the dancing stint in the class we took, we also learned other relaxation techniques, such as massage (liked that) and a variety of breathing techniques (not as into).
As much as I enjoyed the class overall, I'll admit it's not absolutely necessary. Women have been giving birth since the beginning of time without a prior childbirth class. Chris's aunt successfully gave birth to her two children without any formal childbirth education, because both kids were born premature and before the classes she registered for took place. But most expecting parents find themselves signed up for a class, because it seems to be what's expected of you these days. All your expecting friends are taking them and then, in our case, our clinic advised us to be signed up before my 20th week. How could I have told my doctor no?
So there we were last Friday night putting in our time at Baby Class. Chris was less enthusiastic about attending, (the only class that ranked lower on his "wow, I can't believe I'm giving up a weekend for this" is the one a co-worker attended prior to his wedding on how to be a good Catholic husband), but I found myself looking forward to the class and a chance to hang out with other pregnant women. I saw the benefit in being as informed as possible and believed in the "knowledge is power" mantra that if you know what to expect during labor, it'll be less scary and stressful. So although I predicted not all the information would be new, I knew there had to be something Chris and I would take from the class. But a bit of anxiety set in when we sauntered into class and noticed every other couple had come armed with two pillows, a blanket, bags of snacks and water bottles, all dutifully carted in by the fathers-to-be. Chris and I were empty-handed and I suddenly felt wholly unprepared.
I started to wonder if ignorance really is bliss when the class began and my stress level immediately rose. At least I knew I wasn't imagining things when the instructor acknowledged that many of us will feel more anxious in the days following the class. She assured us those feelings will subside. I'm still waiting for that to happen. Much of the technical discussion made me not squeamish, just antsy to that point that I couldn't comfortably sit still. Within the first hour, I had already excused myself, but luckily, no one probably thought anything of a pregnant woman who leaves to presumably go to the bathroom. The birth videos weren't gory, but rather the women featured were calm. But that only proceeded to make me feel like I won't be so brave. I'll never live up to the women in the video.
There were some light-hearted parts of baby class. In the middle of describing early labor and your time in the delivery room, the instructor asked the class who controls the TV remote.
"Mom!" she answered cheerfully.
I shot a mischievous smile at Chris. I had already declared to Chris, unapologetically, that in the delivery room, things were going to happen my way, and now a medical authority figure was backing me up. I didn't realize that the topics of television, remotes and watching sports were hot-button issues until they were specifically addressed in the class.
Not even if your favorite sports team is playing, she stressed. Don't even think about "just checking the score."
I get a guaranteed respite from sports talk radio and football! The delivery room as total sports-free media haven! Woohoo!
There wasn't a single groan, not even from that one guy who seemed to challenge everything else the instructor said, and who you would have expected to ask, "But what if it's a REALLY big game?"
Despite the debate on exactly how necessary a childbirth class is, I'm still happy I had the opportunity to take the class. Much of the information fell into the "good to know" or "interesting to know" categories, as opposed to "your labor will be more disastrous if you don't pay attention now," but there was still much food for thought. When the instructor asked whether we had finished packing our suitcases for the hospital, Chris and I exchanged nervous glances, because we haven't even started, (granted, my due date is much later than anyone else in the class) let alone even considered what to pack. She also discussed birth plans, which inspired me to actually make a draft of mine. She had us consider the realities post labor, such as how we will take care of every day tasks like housecleaning, laundry and care of pets (if you have them) when you're exhausted and devoting every waking minute to a newborn.
Friday, August 7, 2009
30-Week Appointment
I shouldn't look at each appointment as a moment of "passing" or "failing," but when your doctor jubilantly tells you what an easy patient you are and the nurse uses the phrase "absolutely perfect" when reviewing each stat, it's easy to feel overly proud of yourself like you had anything to do with a favorable roll of the genetic dice and just plain old luck.
Today was another routine, and quick, appointment. The results of my glucose screening are within range, which means I'm not at risk for gestational diabetes, my blood pressure is still low and the baby's heart is still beating at a healthy 142 beats a minute. Blood drawn for the glucose screening was also used to measure my hemoglobin level, which was measured at my first appointment as well. My hemoglobin levels were and are where they should be, which means I'm not anemic. All good news. While it feels like I'm getting bigger by the day, I was surprised to learn that my stomach has only grown three centimeters. That sounded accurate at first, until I reminded myself that they're talking centimeters, not inches.
Thirty weeks is not considered a milestone, but for me, it has been, at least physiologically. Since a baby is considered full term at 37 weeks, just knowing I'm now in the 30s puts me more at ease that I'm in the homestretch (even if I could easily be pregnant for another four weeks after going full term). Each week from here on out will be more momentous for me, as it means the chance of survival, should I go into labor early, goes up, and the chances of complications for the baby go down.
Today was another routine, and quick, appointment. The results of my glucose screening are within range, which means I'm not at risk for gestational diabetes, my blood pressure is still low and the baby's heart is still beating at a healthy 142 beats a minute. Blood drawn for the glucose screening was also used to measure my hemoglobin level, which was measured at my first appointment as well. My hemoglobin levels were and are where they should be, which means I'm not anemic. All good news. While it feels like I'm getting bigger by the day, I was surprised to learn that my stomach has only grown three centimeters. That sounded accurate at first, until I reminded myself that they're talking centimeters, not inches.
Thirty weeks is not considered a milestone, but for me, it has been, at least physiologically. Since a baby is considered full term at 37 weeks, just knowing I'm now in the 30s puts me more at ease that I'm in the homestretch (even if I could easily be pregnant for another four weeks after going full term). Each week from here on out will be more momentous for me, as it means the chance of survival, should I go into labor early, goes up, and the chances of complications for the baby go down.
Adorable as Always
Chris and I spent last weekend with a bunch of his relatives at his parent's cabin in northern Minnesota. I hadn't seen one uncle since our wedding and he clearly noticed the difference in my shape. The one and only time he had met me, I was wearing a form-fitting dress that hugged my compact figure in all the right places. I felt light and still had muscle tone in my arms. By last weekend, I was rounder all over and wearing ill-fitting maternity jeans, which, because I'd neglected to wear my trusted Bella Band that helps hold up my pants in absence of being able to wear a belt (the must-have fashion accessory for pregnant women I've decided) became dangerously inappropriate every time I bent over.
Yet his reaction was not what I had braced myself for. He started with "You're so little" (which I did not find offensive, because it was not followed by the untactful "How tall are you?") and ended with...."Adorable as always." I just about hugged him with joy. I assumed he'd read my blog, but he hadn't, so he had produced the "beautiful as always" variation completely unprompted.
Chris was never a Boy Scout or went to summer camp. Instead, he had summers at the cabin, where he fished, water skied, roasted s'mores and even raced turtles in downtown Longville. He loves being on the water and his favorite sports involve anything where you're towed by a very fast boat. I understand that the love of these activities is tied to his memories of and attachment to the cabin. However, I still do not want to get a boat. Despite my very logical concerns of where we'd put it, how we'd pay for and the time spent to maintain it, I find Chris peering at Craig's Lists ads, slowing the car down as we drive past boat sales, and reporting on who at work just bought a bigger, faster boat. (And his co-worker is still trying to sell the old one, so we could get a good deal, he adds!)
Now we were at the cabin and Chris had revived his dream in front of his uncles and cousins who were clearly enjoying this rehashed debate. They egged him on - maybe out of family loyalty or maybe because one of their partners had also put the kibosh on a big toy they'd fantasized about. The discussion went around and around with Chris no closer to convincing me that now, or within his projected time line of six years, we should or will own a boat. At a standstill in the debate, when Chris's uncles had run out of witty comments, one of Chris's cousins, as if on cue, pipes up with, "Beautiful as always." It was either a sign of reconciliation or a last-ditch attempt to win me over.
Yes, someone has been paying attention, (even if it took the lone female cousin to learn first) and ah, I did find it flattering, even when the timing of her delivery was meant for a good laugh. But for all the flattering those three words can bestow, it still won't convince your wife you need to buy a boat.
Yet his reaction was not what I had braced myself for. He started with "You're so little" (which I did not find offensive, because it was not followed by the untactful "How tall are you?") and ended with...."Adorable as always." I just about hugged him with joy. I assumed he'd read my blog, but he hadn't, so he had produced the "beautiful as always" variation completely unprompted.
Chris was never a Boy Scout or went to summer camp. Instead, he had summers at the cabin, where he fished, water skied, roasted s'mores and even raced turtles in downtown Longville. He loves being on the water and his favorite sports involve anything where you're towed by a very fast boat. I understand that the love of these activities is tied to his memories of and attachment to the cabin. However, I still do not want to get a boat. Despite my very logical concerns of where we'd put it, how we'd pay for and the time spent to maintain it, I find Chris peering at Craig's Lists ads, slowing the car down as we drive past boat sales, and reporting on who at work just bought a bigger, faster boat. (And his co-worker is still trying to sell the old one, so we could get a good deal, he adds!)
Now we were at the cabin and Chris had revived his dream in front of his uncles and cousins who were clearly enjoying this rehashed debate. They egged him on - maybe out of family loyalty or maybe because one of their partners had also put the kibosh on a big toy they'd fantasized about. The discussion went around and around with Chris no closer to convincing me that now, or within his projected time line of six years, we should or will own a boat. At a standstill in the debate, when Chris's uncles had run out of witty comments, one of Chris's cousins, as if on cue, pipes up with, "Beautiful as always." It was either a sign of reconciliation or a last-ditch attempt to win me over.
Yes, someone has been paying attention, (even if it took the lone female cousin to learn first) and ah, I did find it flattering, even when the timing of her delivery was meant for a good laugh. But for all the flattering those three words can bestow, it still won't convince your wife you need to buy a boat.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Name Impasse
Dating back to elementary school, I have tossed prospective baby names around in my head. Favorite names went in cycles, so nothing in particular stands out. It was just a fun subconscious game my mind played as it daydreamed, as if it were tucking names away in a special file. I thought finally being able to name my own child would be one of the best parts, maybe even the best part, about having a baby. Of course in my own little fantasy world, my partner wanting to have a say in the matter, was never an issue. And I could get away with being indecisive. I didn't worry about picking a name that was too old-fashioned or too fashionable, or would someday be tarnished by sharing a name with a devastating hurricane, a criminal or with someone who had engaged in illicit relations with a high-ranking political figure. Maybe it's good that I never had my heart set on a certain name, because theoretically it suggests I'm being open-minded, but now that Chris and I are discussing names and the permanency of our decision looms over me, I can't even decide one what my favorite names are - just that they're not what Chris is suggesting.
The spreadsheet of names Chris and I started very soon after I found out I was pregnant, has been growing. From that mental list of names I had mulled over for years, I was able to compile a huge list from the start and as I queried people on their favorite names or came across one from a random source, a few more were added. Then weeks went by when neither of us even looked at it. Every so often, one of us would randomly ask the other what the top contenders were. But the question was never really about the other's opinion - it was just a desperate attempt to see if one had read the other's mind and this whole naming process could thus be decided and done.
With a mild-mannered temperament, few things agitate Chris, and he's been pretty chill throughout my pregnancy. Sometimes, he's a bit too chill though. If I hadn't scheduled my doctor's appointments, signed us up for classes, (just last night he learned that he will be spending next Thursday evening in a two-and-a-half hour class on breastfeeding) and scouted garage sales and consignment shops for supplies for the baby, I wonder how much would have been accomplished to date. Then again, with my indecisiveness, this baby might have been left to come into this world without a name. Despite how much planning and work I've done in anticipation of the baby's arrival, deciding on names has suddenly become an issue I'm treating as if I just keep putting off, it will take care of itself. However, this important item on our to-do list has clearly been bothering Chris, because one night he suddenly declared that we were going to decide on names. He actually seemed distressed.
Picking a name randomly from our list, agreeing to let one of us name the first kid and the other the second, or letting Chris name it if it's a boy and me if it's a girl - all suggestions I've read about - were nothing I was ever going to agree to, because it amounted to giving up control. I'm admittedly too stubborn for that. Rather, raised in the Quaker tradition of consensus, I was determined to reach a compromise, and a compromise both of us could get excited about. So I suggested that we each write down our five favorite names for each sex, and then we traded our pieces of paper. Although I had hoped there would be some matches, it was not surprising in hindsight that this plan backfired. All my favorites were names I had added to the master list, while the names on Chris's piece of paper were names he had originally typed in. I was lacking a good Plan B suggestion. We finally resorted to picking our next five favorite names, but this tactic quickly lost steam. What's the point of giving our kid a 10th pick name, Chris asked? Then Chris suggested that he could try to stall until I have given birth, at which point I'll be too exhausted to care and he'll get his top pick. This is really not turning out to be as fun as I thought it would be.
Despite how difficult we are finding it to decide on names, we should be thankful we have the liberty of even making our own decision with no pressure from family members or a naming tradition to follow. (I once dated an Orville IV whose family assumed the name would be passed on. He liked the idea. We broke up, but not over naming rights, really.)
My grandmother's parents didn't have the option of choosing her name. When her paternal grandmother was told her daughter-in-law had given birth to a girl, she informed the doctor of what the baby's first and middle names would be. The first name happened to be something my poor great-grandmother despised (and my grandmother would grow up to hate) and my grandmother has gone by her middle name ever since. I still can't get over the injustice of not being able to name your own child. My grandmother says that is just how things were done in those days. But hadn't my great-grandmother earned the right to name what would be her only child after the pain and suffering of carrying a baby and delivering it without pain medication?
The spreadsheet of names Chris and I started very soon after I found out I was pregnant, has been growing. From that mental list of names I had mulled over for years, I was able to compile a huge list from the start and as I queried people on their favorite names or came across one from a random source, a few more were added. Then weeks went by when neither of us even looked at it. Every so often, one of us would randomly ask the other what the top contenders were. But the question was never really about the other's opinion - it was just a desperate attempt to see if one had read the other's mind and this whole naming process could thus be decided and done.
With a mild-mannered temperament, few things agitate Chris, and he's been pretty chill throughout my pregnancy. Sometimes, he's a bit too chill though. If I hadn't scheduled my doctor's appointments, signed us up for classes, (just last night he learned that he will be spending next Thursday evening in a two-and-a-half hour class on breastfeeding) and scouted garage sales and consignment shops for supplies for the baby, I wonder how much would have been accomplished to date. Then again, with my indecisiveness, this baby might have been left to come into this world without a name. Despite how much planning and work I've done in anticipation of the baby's arrival, deciding on names has suddenly become an issue I'm treating as if I just keep putting off, it will take care of itself. However, this important item on our to-do list has clearly been bothering Chris, because one night he suddenly declared that we were going to decide on names. He actually seemed distressed.
Picking a name randomly from our list, agreeing to let one of us name the first kid and the other the second, or letting Chris name it if it's a boy and me if it's a girl - all suggestions I've read about - were nothing I was ever going to agree to, because it amounted to giving up control. I'm admittedly too stubborn for that. Rather, raised in the Quaker tradition of consensus, I was determined to reach a compromise, and a compromise both of us could get excited about. So I suggested that we each write down our five favorite names for each sex, and then we traded our pieces of paper. Although I had hoped there would be some matches, it was not surprising in hindsight that this plan backfired. All my favorites were names I had added to the master list, while the names on Chris's piece of paper were names he had originally typed in. I was lacking a good Plan B suggestion. We finally resorted to picking our next five favorite names, but this tactic quickly lost steam. What's the point of giving our kid a 10th pick name, Chris asked? Then Chris suggested that he could try to stall until I have given birth, at which point I'll be too exhausted to care and he'll get his top pick. This is really not turning out to be as fun as I thought it would be.
Despite how difficult we are finding it to decide on names, we should be thankful we have the liberty of even making our own decision with no pressure from family members or a naming tradition to follow. (I once dated an Orville IV whose family assumed the name would be passed on. He liked the idea. We broke up, but not over naming rights, really.)
My grandmother's parents didn't have the option of choosing her name. When her paternal grandmother was told her daughter-in-law had given birth to a girl, she informed the doctor of what the baby's first and middle names would be. The first name happened to be something my poor great-grandmother despised (and my grandmother would grow up to hate) and my grandmother has gone by her middle name ever since. I still can't get over the injustice of not being able to name your own child. My grandmother says that is just how things were done in those days. But hadn't my great-grandmother earned the right to name what would be her only child after the pain and suffering of carrying a baby and delivering it without pain medication?
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