Today in "You Gotta Be Kidding Me"

It's 10:55am, and it's already 99 degrees outside, feels like 103, and we're heading for a high of 105 degrees. Which means that we're pretty much stuck inside with the energy-saver curtains drawn, and fans scattered throughout the living room, because our air-conditioner, predictably, is having a tough time getting it below 80 degrees.

So this morning we decided to use someone else's air-conditioning, eating breakfast at Panera, which was lovely. And then Kami talked me in to taking her to get a pedicure. Which means that I was also talked into getting a pedicure. Which was lovely.

I had never had a pedicure before, and I was a little hesitant to get one. But I probably need to get knowledged-up about girly things (I already make a fine cup of tea - so that's taken care of.) See, and this is probably a little too much information, but I have a sweet foot and a sour foot. One foot is quite nice. One foot...not so much. Walking into the place, I sat down in a massage chair and immediately started apologizing, thinking of Dumb and Dumber the whole time. (There was a glitch in that the pumice stone was raked across the bottom of my big toe like a dad gum razor, which affected the enjoyment of the rest of the pedicure)

As I am likely going to need to know about Girly Things, Kami and I are going to be fighting over who gets to take Emmy to get pedicures. Because that was awesome.

On to the "You Gotta Be Kidding Me" part of today. Obviously, if Kami is going to be outside in 100+ heat, then it's going to be by the pool. But it's Saturday, so that means the pool is going to be packed. And full of people drinking. And since I can't beat them, or join them, that's not really an option right now.

The life-saver has been Netflix Instant. We've been watching Sons of Anarchy. A lot. Like, we're one episode from finishing the 3rd season (and we only started watching it about two weeks ago). And then Weather-mageddon hit Northern Virginia, and Netflix went down. It's been down since we finished the penultimate episode of Season Three. This is not a recipe for Happy Pregnant Lady.

(Incidentally, the weather provided a blueprint for terrorists. Want to immobilize America in lazy outrage? Knock out Netflix. We'll just complain on Facebook and Twitter, and then take a nap.)

So, to sum up:

1. Our toes are pretty.
2. We're stuck inside.
3. It's now 104 degrees.
4. With no Netflix.
5. And Gunther is so nervous - about something - that he's puked twice.
6. Nice little Saturday we have shaping up.

Things Pregnant Ladies Don't Like

Ooooh, we had our first real scare this morning.

Well now, things got a little hairy for a while today. It started at 5:15am, when I got up and creepily found Kami standing right behind me while I was making coffee where she whispered, "Boooo," and I almost crumped my pants. But I got the later laugh (it won't be the last, I'm sure) when she started having contractions 4:45-5:15 apart. Then I realized what that meant, and I got all stressed out all over again.

But Kami said that something felt different, so we took our hospital bags down to the car, I did some work, and we waited.

We had an appointment to see the Good Doctor at 10:15, anyway, so we went to our appointment to see what he thought. Kami had lost four pounds (which, apparently, is another sign of the End Times of Pregnancy), and he wanted to get a look at her blood pressure. The result? 139 over 98 - the highest that it had ever been in her life. She's more of a 120 over 80 kind of girl. This concerned the Good Doctor, because of the risk of preeclampsia. I nodded like I knew what that meant. I Googled it. Preeclampsia causes 76,000 maternal deaths and 500,000 infant deaths every year. And that's the conservative estimate (according to the website). He was quick to point out that one odd test does not necessarily a problem make. "Was there anything that had you keyed up more than usual this morning?" he asked.

Let's see. Perhaps it was the 5-minute contractions. Perhaps it was the three wrecks on I-40 that led from what is normally a 15-minute drive from our place to the doctor's office to a 38-minute debacle. Perhaps it was the parking lot that was full, resulting in Valet Armageddon, and the stone cold b... um, lady in the Lexus SUV with personalized license plate, who was in such a hurry that she just turned her car off in line and walked in to the office, leaving the Valet guy screaming at the top of his voice after her to come back. Because we're suddenly in the Hamptons, apparently. Or it could have been that our appointment was at 10:15, and it was 11:00 before we got called in to see the doctor. Or it could have been that it was a further 90 minutes before the Good Doctor actually came in to talk to us. Maybe, JUST MAYBE, that could have led to such high blood pressure.

Regardless of the reason, Kami's blood pressure was too high. So he sent her to get a urine sample (which, at 38 weeks pregnant, she can produce on command) to check to see if there is protein in her urine. And then she went to get blood drawn, after which we were told that we would get the results this afternoon. The Good Doctor told us to check her blood pressure throughout the afternoon, and monitor it. The bottom number (diastolic, methinks) is the key. If it's near, or over, 90, then Kami would be considered Gestationally Hypertensive. The fear is that, with slightly swollen ankles and legs, there would be an issue with the mother's liver and kidneys, which can cause problems for the baby, and in extreme cases (which doctors love to bring up) lead to a stroke. How do they resolve this? Inducing labor. Maybe tomorrow. I saw stars.

It was unresolved whether being 38 weeks pregnant, with the temperature approaching 105 degrees, had anything to do with the swollen ankles.

We got the go-ahead to go ahead and eat lunch, but stay close by for the results. We got a blood pressure cuff from Walgreen's, and took her blood pressure. Result? 142 over 89. Lower, but not by much. We ate lunch. Checked it again. 135 over 75. Much better.

The results came back that Kami's bloodwork was fine, and there was no protein in her urine, thus no risk for preeclampsia. Seems as though maybe The Most Frustrating Morning of the Month had something to do with the elevated blood pressure, after all.

In other news, when the nurse wasn't looking, I slipped out and got on the scales. I've gained 17 pounds during Kami's pregnancy. Not good. But also, not as bad as I was expecting. I blame the Cabo Burrito I ate last night.

Christmas Eve

Before we all get too excited, calling this "Christmas Eve" does not necessarily mean that tomorrow is Baby Day. I got an email today with someone telling me that coming home from work to your wife and baby made every day feel like Christmas. I responded that it made sense as every day now feels like Christmas Eve: I can't focus, I can't concentrate, I can't do anything to take my mind off of the fact that any day now we're going to head off to the hospital. And there's not even some crap bowl game to occupy my time. I just time contractions on my phone.

Speaking of contractions, they've sort of been all over the place - but getting closer together. A few days ago they were 15 minutes apart, then 12 minutes, then 10 minutes. Last night they were running about 60-90 seconds in duration, and about 7-7.5 minutes apart. I could have sworn that - back in Birthin' Class - they said to go ahead and get ready to come to the hospital when they were 6-8 minutes apart for two hours. So I called the on-call doctor at Baptist, and was told that, no, wait until they're about five minutes apart for an hour. Off to bed.

So this evening, Kami was running about 6m 45s apart, and I went off and took a shower, washed my hair, and prepared for the impending two-day trip to the hospital. Except they slowed down, back to about eight minutes. So it's like the present was brought out from under the tree, laid down in my lap, and then picked back up and put back under the tree. (And, similar to Christmas Eve, I won't be able to sleep tonight. I was so sure that we were in for a long night that I made myself a quite large cup of coffee. Good thing I'm trying to finish a couple of different books.)

Anyhow, we're pretty much ready for Ms. Thang to come on out. Over the weekend we had to pick up a few things from Babies R Us. We got a sound machine for the nursery - which I am tempted to buy a second one so I can fall asleep to the soothing sounds of the ocean. However, if someone decides to be funny and turn on the rotating, glowing monkeys in a tree, then the Night Terrors will surely come. We also picked up a new bassinet mattress and sheet, because we were fairly certain that the sheet should not crumple up the bassinet mattress so that it looked more like Angus had alligatored the covers.

Oh, you're not familiar with alligatoring? Angus is quite good at it - I even saw him do it one. He starts by laying against your leg on top of the covers. Then, using the wedge of covers against your leg, he rolls, turning away from the outside of your leg, sometimes grabbing the covers with his teeth, so that it separates the covers from the leg, to the point where you wake up shivering, looking at a smiling, sleeping dog. So we bought a new bassinet mattress and sheet, and it fit much better than the other one.

We got blankets upon blankets, but we found ourselves walking through the blanket section, when I saw one that made me burst into tears. It was pink (honestly, we never pegged ourselves as such huge fans of the color pink, but Emsley's closet is like Strawberry Shortcake and a Care Bear got into a knife fight. Can't get enough pink.), but in the corner was embroidered, "Beautiful Like My Mommy." And I just couldn't handle it. Burst into tears right there in the middle of Babies R Us. (I bet it hasn't happened before. I bet I wasn't the first person to cry in Babies R Us that day. That hour, even.)

I'm sure I've mentioned this before but Kami is absolutely beautiful (like there was any doubt). From the moment I decided to propose, which will be 10 years ago this coming New Year's Eve, I knew she would make a wonderful mother. It took longer than we had expected; deep in my heart I questioned whether this day would come. I just cannot thank God enough for our experience - the good and the bad - and for Kami. Emsley will be beautiful, just like her mommy. Now if you'll pardon me, I have a blanket to buy.

We have dilation!

So one of my least favorite things, being of the glasses-wearing persuasion, is the part of the eye test where they dilate your pupils. Turns out there are no similarities between cervical dilation and pupil dilation. Much less stinging. Now we're almost 37 weeks - wait. I was under the impression that Kami was about 38 weeks. And when the Good Doctor said, "Hey - you're 37 weeks! Home stretch!" In my mind, the record stopped.

I said, "I was sort of under the impression that she was about 38 weeks." The Good Doctor looked over her file and said, "Yeah, the due date looks like it's about July 9." Which sucks, because I really want to meet Emsley. Anyhow the Good Doctor said, "Well let's check for dilation."

Sure enough, Kami is 1cm dilated. Having absolutely no idea how big a centimeter is (it's not, as Wikipedia corrected me, a meter with 100 legs), I looked it up. It's not big. It's small. Too small for a baby. But it is the beginning of the latent phase of labor. Active labor is 4cm, so another three meters with 100 legs and we're heading out. Not that I'd be able to tell...

Still, the contractions keep coming. On Monday night I could have sworn we were going to the hospital - contractions for about a minute, seven minutes apart. So sure were we that we cleaned our place. Our good friends Josh and Katie are going to handle Gunther and Angus while we're at the hospital, and Kami swore that they wouldn't come over to a messy apartment. So we cleaned. Except when we cleaned, that moved things around so the contractions slowed down.

The Good Doctor told us that the contractions would be more frequent, but likened the 1cm dilation to being "on the downhill with no brakes." My question - internally, because if I'm too cheeky with the Good Doctor, I get mean looks. And I do not want mean looks from a very pregnant lady in Tennessee in June - was, "what kind of vehicle is it?" Because if it's a pair of roller skates, well, there's no need to get too worked up. If I'm on the downhill in a Segway with no brakes, I won't fret. But if I'm on a Razor Scooter, then I'm going to be slightly concerned.

One thing, though: Emsley has been growing and moving around so much (and Kami is doing her best Sneezy Dwarf impression) that she's messing with the nerves in her back. So Kami has a pinched nerve and it, as you can imagine, does not feel good. When she asked the Good Doctor about it, he suggested heat and massage. Then he looked at me and said, "So, dad, you're going to have to get to work." Slightly insulted, I replied, "Oh, I've been working." Both Kami and the Good Doctor looked at me with pity. And some anger.

Still, being dilated one cm - while not a predictor of labor - does mean that we're on the way. And I can't wait to get this started, even if it means that I get punched. Off to massage Kami's back.

Wait. These are actual children's books?

Things are progressing. That's about all there is to say at this point. I could barely sleep last night because I had a dream that Kami's water broke. And England plays Ukraine today at 1:45. If her water could break today around 1:00, we could be at the hospital with ESPN on by 1:45. then we would embark on this wonderful journey!

Anyhow, one of the things I'm most looking forward to is Story Time. I cannot wait to read to Emsley every night, and I've already picked out a number of books I feel she needs to read, or have read to her: The Bible, of course. All the Sherlock Holmes stories. Harry Potter (eight, or so, years from now). Fever Pitch.

But there are some books that she will not, under any circumstances, be reading...

The Night Dad Went To Jail
Who Cares About Disabled People? (See it's companion piece, the Acts to this Luke, Who Cares About Elderly People?)
Children Are No Match For Fire
I Wish Daddy Didn't Drink So Much
The House That Crack Built
Joined at Birth: The Lives of Conjoined Twins
The Moose With The Loose Poops
Latawnya the Naughty Horse Learns to Say No To Drugs (for one thing, it's $393.62.)
Embalming is Not a Sport
How to Care for Your Giant African Land Snail

Maybe you've read these and found them immensely helpful when your kid went to school, saw conjoined twins sitting at the desk(s) next to them, and came home shaken to their very core. Or when you were out camping and came across a moose who had the trots, and weren't sure about the Smores you just ate. But it's not happening in this house.

The Express Train to Babyville

I know it's been a week or so since we last spoke, dear reader, and for that, I apologize. Let's recap, shall we?

Our respective mothers flew in from Texas last Friday, as it was Baby Shower weekend. This means that Thursday night we were up quite late doing laundry, cleaning up, and I put two coats of paint on the wall in the nursery where her crib will be. Once the nursery decorations are finished, I'll post a picture. For now, it sort of looks like an F1 tornado hit a Babies R Us.

During one of those showers, my mom and I stayed behind and tried to put together the crib. She's good at that sort of thing. I'm not. It still took us over two hours, and I need to put the stabilizer bar on it because I left it in the car and spent 25 minutes staring at two screws and silently pleading with them to fit. I may, or may not, have put Gunther in the crib to see if the mattress and springs would fall through the bottom. (It didn't.)

It was great having The Moms in town, as they took turns getting weepy with Kami, and telling her how beautiful she is - which is, of course, true. After the showers, we unloaded the car and arranged baby clothes by size, washed them, and hung them up in the closet. It's pretty cool.

Then the Bassinet came, and we put that together. There's an mp3 dock on the bottom, which will be awesome as the sweet sounds of Rammstein will gently rock her to sleep. But it was then that I realized that we are now on the Express Train to Babyville. 36 weeks ago, having Emsley come - though we didn't know her name at the time - was a very abstract thought. Kind of an, "Oh, I know she's coming, but it's down the road. There are a lot of things to get through before she arrives." Now, all of those "things" have come and gone, and now we're waiting, and I'm getting antsy. For example:

At church on Sunday, we were about to be dismissed when everyone was invited to stand for the closing blessing. Keep in mind, I had spent the previous week loading up clothes we don't wear anymore to take to Goodwill. And we donated, honestly, between 300-500 pounds of books to the library. And I know that getting rid of books doesn't sound like something we would do, but we are big library supporters, and honestly, if I haven't read that Salman Rushdie book that I've had on every nightstand I've owned for ten years, then I can just get it from the library when the mood strikes me. That did some damage to my dodgy left knee. So standing to be dismissed, I needed some help getting to my feet. I put my hand down to my right where Kami was sitting, and slopped it right in the middle of a huge, cold wet spot.

I do not know what broken water feels like. Looking back, I knew that it wouldn't be ice cold. But in my heart I was thinking, "Oh crap her water broke! Thank God our moms are here! She needs me to give her a piggy back ride to the car! And I can get to Baptist Hospital in 15 minutes from here!" All of those thoughts went through my mind in a matter of milliseconds. So I completely freaked out, gasped, coughed, even croaked out a "WHATISTHAT" at an inappropriate volume. Kami started laughing - her water bottle had leaked on the seat.

So I'm getting jumpy, and it's not going to get any better.

Oh Baby Bjorn can piss right off

Big weekend in Yaskoland coming up. My mom flew in from Houston this evening, and Kami's mom flies in later tonight, as it's Baby Shower weekend. Which feels weird, because you're basically sending invitations for people to buy you gifts. Don't get me wrong, I'll take it, but I feel pretty strange about the whole process.

So anyway, a lady that works with my mom was gracious enough to send a gift, which arrived today. We opened it, and it was the chocolate Baby Bjorn carrier thing. I could barely contain my excitement, as I was pretty jazzed up about it when registering for all the stuff.

I immediately put it on, except I had some trouble with the straps. See, I had a New Year's Resolution to lose 25 pounds that, unless I get a leg blown off in a random act of hillbilly separatist violence, isn't going to happen (in fairness to me: I've been trying, it's just that the new mattress is so comfortable, and Kami keeps putting ice cream in my hand. Well, in a cup, but she hands it to me.)

So I put it on, and had some trouble with it, because I did not realize that Baby Bjorn was a literal name. As in, only a 5'4", 120lb Swede named Bjorn could put it on and have room for anything but a postcard from Puerto Rico. Honestly, if I put Emsley in the Baby Bjorn as it was, it would look like someone squeezed a styrofoam cup of jello from the bottom. I grew despondent, and angry. This is America, dadgummit. Doesn't freaking skinny Bjorn know that we do things big here? Screw that guy. And his low-carb diet. And his lack of awareness of things like Chick-Fil-A's Spicy Chicken Sandwich.

Then I found out that I was using the Female Straps. So I used the Man Straps, and things worked out better. But for about six minutes, I was ready to declare war on Sweden. And Bjorn.