Bringing up Baby, but Baby isn’t a leopard.
April 21st, 2008 — Ross, first trimester
Here you can see HW doing his/her (that is going to be annoying for the next couple of months) best to portray an amorphous, grainy blob. In the upper left you can see HOLY SHIT IT IS THAT GUY FROM SCREAM (THE MOVIE)!! I wonder how he got in there?
* where son is defined as son or daughter
April 20th, 2008 — Ross, first trimester
You may have heard: I am going to be a father. When I speak it aloud, giving form and girth to the idea, it sounds ludicrous and even preposterous. Largely, the feelings that bubble up through the oil coursing through my gleaming, unfeeling, robotic heart are positive. But it is, as you can imagine, complicated. So, when a passerby exclaims, “Congratulations!” I say “Thanks, man.”
Then we sit in awkward silence.
I suppose people expect me to gush effusively about how my pending addition to the species has given me a new perspective on life, and I’ve finally grokked What It Is All About. Two things about that though. First, my internal ruminations on parenthood might just be personal and not something I feel like expounding upon. Second, I’m not really known for my showy displays of emotion; recall the aforementioned robotic heart.
It is important for me, however, to assuage any concerns friends and family may have about my lack of so called “feelings” for my unborn child. Let me assure you that, daily, I am having plenty of feelings and that “love” is one of them that frequents the neighborhood.
Consider yourselves assuaged.
And as further proof that I am experiencing an adequate amount of excitement here is list of excitement evoking things:
April 16th, 2008 — Ross, first trimester
I am severely committed to following plank in my run for Fatherhood in 2008. Please, by all means, keep me accountable to my campaign promises.
I have learned — from other expectant fathers — that from the second your wife’s pee seeps into that historic stick, coaxing those pink lines to boldly come forth, you must tell boring stories that no one gives a shit about. The following list, which is by no means comprehensive, details topics that prenatal fathers must tell elaborate and boring stories about — perhaps to innocent strangers:
To be completely honest, people, this plank might not apply to you. You come here with the intent, the unabashed raw desire, to read the latest tale of woe/joy as it springs from my fingers. But! dear man on the street, fellow coworker, friend I am drinking a beer with, I realize you have no — zilch — desire to know my the progress or schedule of my wife’s bowel movements, etc.
Therefore I promise to not inundate you with mundane stories that will, quite frankly, bore the piss out of you.
April 14th, 2008 — Ross, first trimester
Today, Val announced to the public that she is, in fact, pregnant with the next iteration of the Catrow family line. Since you, dear internets, were the last to know you have some catching up to do: we are currently ten weeks into a forty week (lifelong?) process, my how time — like a mighty river — has flown.
For some reason, who knows why, I had it in my head that I wouldn’t dream of siring a babe until I was nigh unto 30 years of age. Valerie had quite different plans. Thus we fought endlessly as many fists were shook and tears shed. Note: always talk about when you want to have kids with your prospective wife, not just if. Finally through much bartering, hemming, and also hawing, we decided to “try” — which means “have unprotected sex” — the last two weeks of February, skip March, and resume in April. This was palatable and I accepted the offer as I laughed haughtily, twirled my moustache, and envisioned weeks of endless sex.
Valerie was impregnated ON THE FIRST TRY. ALWAYS WEAR A CONDOM PEOPLE THEY AREN’T KIDDING. I imagine that when I turn 46 and the opportunity for endless sex presents it self again the erectile dysfunction drugs will be miraculous.
Disclosure: My wife told me that if I made it seem like she forced me into having kids she would hit me with the baseball bat again.
On March 5th Valerie and I got into a huge fight — something that is pretty rare for us. I think I failed to a) do the dishes like I said I would or b) clean the bathroom like I said I would. Either way, it escalated rather quickly. Which made me feel rather bad when … Val took a pregnancy test at work the next day! And it was positive! And then she took five more!
She is thorough, that one.
So we told a few people close to us — I told like, literally, two people while Val told the entire state of Nebraska — and made a doctor’s appointment. Then we waited, and actually are still waiting, to pass out of The Danger Zone. Apparently, until week twelve (interesting sidenote: they spot you four weeks up front. So when you find out you’re pregnant you’re actually four weeks pregnant) you live in this constant state of fear of a miscarriage.
While dreading the impudent exeunt of our newly fashioned life form I stepped up my culinary efforts. As my wife knits bone from flesh my main task is to provide her with the nutrients necessary to do so. She does not need to “eat for two” as they (the fatties) say. She just needs to eat balanced and healthy meals. This is where I come in.
Today we had our first doctor’s appointment with a kindly gentleman who, while looks nothing like, has the mannerisms of Alan Alda. Not only that, but he is the OBGYN for fully three generations of my wife’s family. If we have a girl and Valerie’s grandmother is still alive he will have seen FOUR generations of Harris family vaginas. Seriously.
Val was supposed to get an (awkwardly internal) ultrasound, but the technician had a “family emergency.” After waiting six dreadfully slow weeks we’ll have to wait another to see a blurry, grainy picture of our foetus. But! We got to hear the heartbeat using a weird portable sonar device that looked like a ray gun.
It sounded just like it does in the movies, rather wooshy.
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That’s where we are. The awkwardly internal ultrasound has been rescheduled for next Monday. Barring terrible catastrophes I might have pictures then.
STOKED!