Ain’t that a kick in the head?

If you haven’t seen the movie, Away We Go, I highly recommend it. It stars Maya Rudolph and John Krasinki as Verona and Burt - an expectant couple, searching for the perfect city in which to raise their baby. It’s filled with memorable, funny, and sweet moments, some of which revolve around Burt trying to get the baby’s heart rate up. Verona is concerned that the baby is too calm, and she wants it to be more lively. To accomplish this, Verona suggests that she and Burt fight more, and then listen to the baby’s heartbeat with a Doppler. So, at inopportune moments, the viewer witnesses Burt jumping out, screaming obscenities at a surprised Verona, and then giddily placing the Doppler on her belly to listen to the heart-racing result.

Which gave me an idea...

I recently read that the baby’s heartbeat is now strong enough to be heard without a Doppler. We decided to try it last night. We turned off the fan, muted the TV, and Ben put his ear to my belly. About three seconds later – BAM! Lil Miss kicked him right in the temple. In her defense, she has a limited means of communication right now. How do we know it wasn’t a friendly fetus fist pump and not a karate kick? I’m thinking it was more a gesture of “Hello Daddy”, not “Back off dude”. Ben wasn’t sure if he heard her heartbeat, but he definitely heard the beginning of her individuality.

The Final Countdown

As of today, there are 100 days left until the due date. (Insert primal scream here.) To combat my anxiety, I've turned to poetry. Ah-Hem.

100 winks left to catch
100 days left of dogs being our only kids
100 mornings left in the bathroom by myself
100 outfits left of wearing a bra without snap off lids

100 more fluttering kicks to feel
100 more walks to take stroller-free
100 more guesses who she looks like
100 more nights to be in our home, just Ben and me

100 days left to prepare
100 days until we get her
100 days until we are parents
100 days until our lives forever change…for the better

We’ll meet you in 100 days - give or take a few - Lil’ Miss.

Parting with Prone, or Farewell Face Down

Everyone has their favorite sleeping position. My great-grandmother used to sleep on her back with her head at the foot of the bed. Ben puts one arm on the top of my pillow and that hand on top of my head. Boz prefers to fold his legs underneath him in a deer-like yoga pose.

To me, nothing is more comfortable than lying on my stomach with my arms out to the side. I know I look like someone who has washed up on a beach. I know it, and I don’t care. It’s comfortable, and since I’m not a busty gal, nothing has prevented me from this relaxing supine pose…until now.

Lil Miss growing in here doesn’t like it much when I lay on my stomach, and frankly, I feel really bad doing so. Don’t judge - I don’t consciously turn on my stomach, but I have woken up that way a few times due to her kicking me to TURN OVER!

“Geez Ma”, I can picture her saying. “Are you trying to squish me?” Sorry Lil Miss! Momma’s new at this. You’ve got 29 years of muscle memory working against you.

To help me out, I registered for one of these puppies.

Don’t laugh – it’s supposed to really work. I only have 16 more weeks to sleep, and then I won’t get any rest ‘til 2029 when she goes to college. This is what Mom tells me, at least. I'm stockpiling while I can.

Thank Lil Miss you for awakening me to this new world of not sleeping through the night. I know it’s only the beginning.

My Baby's Got a Secret

Now that we know we are having a daughter, I have another question that should be added to the FAQ list. “What’s her name going to be?”

Well, the short answer is that I can’t really tell you. It’s not because I don’t know. She has a first and last name (obviously), and they sound perfectly mellifluous. Once we decide on her middle name, it will be a complete and pretty little picture.

I can’t tell you because it’s a secret.

A be vewy vewy quiet type of secret.

A statute that exists for several reasons:

First off, it’s what her Daddy wants. After our baby reveal party a few weeks ago Ben and I had a very brief talk about what her name would be. We pretty much immediately agreed on her first name because I had had a list going since we found out we were pregnant back in March. (Clandestinely, this list has existed since the 8th grade. Most girls pick out children’s names before we pick out husbands. It’s true, guys.) Ben then asked to keep the name quiet until her arrival because he wanted to keep something just between us three. At this point, my heart melted and I immediately jumped on board the secret name train. Ben will be able to walk out of the delivery room in November and tell our families something they don’t already know – something rare in our family circles.

Secondly, it’s now what I want – see above…and below.

Lastly, we get to avoid all the judgment that comes from announcing your baby’s name prior to its birth. Mom and Dad tossed the names Brandy and Wendy out to their families prior to my arrival, and both were met with harsh criticism. I’ve been told the potential monikers reminded my grandmothers of strippers, liquor, and Civil War-era butter churning. Since I refuse to admit my grandmothers know anything about strippers or liquor, I’m calling erroneous! Erroneous on all counts. Still, I like knowing that no one will know her name until they meet her – at which point, they’ll think it’s a perfect match. Hopefully.

I don’t like being secretive, so how about I tell you what her name isn’t?

• Delta, Sarah Ida, or anything related to Tri Delt. It was a short but contentious battle that Ben decisively won.


• Lauren Jr. – I think the practice of naming your female child after you is a little odd.


• Benjamina – See above.


• Norma, or anything related to the University of Oklahoma. The dogs, Bosworth and Adrian, are enough Sooners in one house.


• Ava, Ella, Emily, Sophie, Bella, or any names you might see on the most popular baby names list. These are beautiful names; we just wanted less people to share hers.


• Darby – Don’t worry Brady – it’s still available for you.
  

I love a preppy monogram as much as the next former sorority girl. My little legacy, however, will have to stand in line at the seamstress with her Momma to get hers done.

In space no one can hear you scream

I’m not sure how I feel about the supersonic mega hi-def ultrasounds available nowadays. For about $100 a session you can see your baby in the womb looking…well…pretty uncomfortable… weird…and alien like.

I’m sorry; you’re probably not supposed to say that. It’s just my opinion, and maybe it’s because I’m a claustrophobe, but it looks hella cramped in there. The baby’s little hands are all crammed up by their faces, their feet are up over their heads, their eyelids are fused shut like kittens, and any time I get a glimpse of the umbilical cord I throw up a little in my mouth.

Then I hear about sonographers having to ram mothers in the stomach to get the baby to move around, and I can’t help but think - There will be multiple times in my daughter’s life when I ask her to “perform” something cute in front of a crowd, so I don’t need to start bugging her about it now, do I?

I get the appeal. I want to know what my daughter will look like, and I’d like to know it now. Will she have my eyes, Ben’s smile, and her grandmother’s height? That’s what I’m hoping for – if you can’t tell.

I just don’t think I’ll be able to extrapolate what she’ll look like from an image of her more resembling a kangaroo fetus than what I know will become my beautiful, huggable baby girl.

Despite my commentary above, I haven’t completely made up my mind about getting a supersonic mega hi-def ultrasound. So until then, I have this…

This is our baby at 20 weeks.

And this is me as a 3 month old.

This is something I can get behind.