Said “official” looking lady on elevator today, when I shared it with her, an “official” looking man and my bike: “Isn’t it cold today?” Chatted about my fenders, yesterday’s rain and such. Wished them a good day, and she thanked me. Wow. Thanked me. No, “You, too.” Guess that Beemer ride wasn’t as fun as my bike ride, huh?
Mama and I have been commuting on the bus since we found out about Baby in mid-August. I love to cycle, but I’d much rather ride with Mama. Now that she’s on bed rest, that’s not an option. On the bright side of this week’s rollercoaster, I get to cycle more now, to work at least. Winter cycling is rewarding, and I could really use the exercise. Soon, Mama will get to ride again, too. And, in a year maybe, Baby also!
Went to a follow-up with our OB yesterday. Mama’s 50% effaced, which could mean that Baby G wants to come out too soon. We’re just at 28 weeks. From what we’ve read, Baby would have a good chance right now, a very very good chance. And the chances at a normal life increase daily now. But, to be safe, Dr. Jones prescribed complete bed rest. And fetal monitoring and two shots of Betamethasone (one yesterday, the next later today), in addition to the blood sugar test Mama was supposed to undergo yesterday anyway.
So we went up to the maternity ward on the 16th floor once we figured out how to get there, getting pretty freakin terrified. There were no rooms, but a very nice nurse gave Mama the orange jug of stuff to drink for the glucose test ahead of time. She got her blood test in the waiting room after an hour (how long the test requires), after “Dr. Phil.” Mama’s a trooper with the blood tests! Then we went to triage to get Mama hooked up to a machine to monitor possible contractions and other signs of pre-term labor. She wasn’t feeling any contractions of pain, but we were still very very worried. Having that stuff strapped onto you can’t be fun, and it certainly felt bizarre to see my little wife that way.
Another patient got up to hit the potty with her sensors on, so our nurse had to run to take care of that situation. We sat alone listening to Baby’s heartbeat for over a half hour, hearing her kicking the sensor and moving away from it. Moving away meant that her little heartbeat kept changing on the monitor, dropping off for a few seconds here and there, going up and down. We panicked a little, looking for a way to call the nurse. The damned phone was a real phone, though. No luck. But then Nurse Michelle came back and explained that what was on the screen and on the print-out scroll was normal. Very super duper normal. That they were watching the monitor from somewhere else, too, the whole time. And Baby was very fine. No contractions or signs of distress. “Your baby is as happy as can be!” they told us, much to our relief.Michelle gave Mama the first steroid shot, and we waited through the rest of the test.
Afterward, the results of the blood sugar test came through. Mama’s sugar was high, but not very high. We go back to Dr. Jones this afternoon for the next steroid shot (though I have the vial!) and a follow-up. Starting February 3rd, we were supposed to start going every other week. Now, starting now, we’re going every week. That’s actually good. We’ll feel better knowing everything is being monitored. And it will give Mama the chance to get out of the apartment shortly once a week. She’s upset, and today is her birthday.
So we go to the hospital in the afternoon. Then I’ll go shopping, get supplies. Then make Mama whatever she wants for dinner. So far, it looks like Baby is Okay. I have to worry about Mama now.
We spent yesterday with Grandma and Grandpa, registering at the two places pictured above (with free gifts!). It was fun but hard work. I guess you have to earn your gifts? :)
It’s tricky, thinking of what you might need, what you want, what you’re willing to admit that you want, what you’re willing to “let” people buy you, etc. Mama and I are generally not wild about people going all out on our behalves. Not that we’re ungrateful. You know what I mean. So we feel like there’s supposed to be some kind of balance. We’ll register for expensive diapers and glass bottles, but not a playpen and glider rocker. Etc. But, you know, we have to make sure we have everything we need. Yesterday, that meant clothes, toys and cool socks that Grandpa picked out.
Tomorrow, we visit the OB for a follow-up to the abnormality that was there last week when Mama was very sick. If you’re the praying kind, the metta kind, the positive energy kind, the luck kind — and you want to share it — that would be lovely. And you would be lovely. And I will owe you coffee, tea and homemade cookies one day.
What a strange month, and it’s only half over! The Ravens were doing well, and now they are finished until next year. I walked home from watching the game last night, without a fear in the world. I don’t think anyone in town was in the mood to mug or “bankkk” anyone, not last night. I did almost get run over by a stampede of drunk girls, seriously. I thought I was getting a group hug there for a minute.
My dissertation defense was uncertain, and now it’s scheduled. February 16, 3:30 pm. Carbondale.
The weather hasn’t been helping feel steady. It’s been strangely cold for Maryland. It warmed up a little lately, but today it’s cold and raining. Yesterday, I wore sandals sans socks and two short-sleeved Ravens shirts under my puffy vest. Today, I’m in flannel and PJs and looking forward to watching movies with Mama (which Mama picked) and having a quiet pasta dinner. I’m not leaving the building today.
A busy work week ahead, with a stressful OB visit on Wednesday and a work event Saturday to boot. I better make sure I have a good supply of coffee beans and that my Thermos is clean.
Thursday is Mama’s birthday, though, and that’s fun. I like to spoil Mama, especially with Baby being so big that she has trouble moving around and has, in fact, started to wobble a bit.
Tomorrow, Baby shopping, with Grandma.
By request, I made the greatest French toast the world has ever seen for dinner. With scrambled eggs that Mama calls “scrambello” and maple veggie sausage. A delicious feast! Then, while I was washing dishes, Mama threw up all of her dinner. She said she felt much much better after that. That’s good.
Something’s a little wacky with Mama. I’ll spare you the gross details. But we have to go back in a week to check. Never good to hear, on your way out, “If you have 6 or more of those in any hour, get to a hospital.”
Nothing like waking up to your pregnant wife puking all over the floor. Called Doctor. Left message. We’ll see what she says. Mama says her stomach is feeling better, and her new lower back pain is going away. So we’re not freaking out yet.
Seriously. How has no one from any of the groups that he so publically and stupidly hates gone to his house to bust a fucking cap in his ass? Am I advocating violence toward him? No, of course not. I’m just surprised no one’s done that fucker in. Maybe a little disappointed? I won’t admit to that, nah.
Getting ready for Baby. Now more name searching. Getting a dissertation defense date. Getting my dissertation in tip-top shape to be defended. Not to mention the whole, you know, work, family and normal life stuff. It feels like March already; I can’t believe it’s only January 13th!
Our bus never came today; so we walked to work. Talking about Baby names the whole time. We had one picked, but now we’re not so sure. We’re looking for something unique but not off-the-wall. Possibly ethnic, but not esoteric. Cute, but not precious. Interesting, but not pretentious. It’s complicated.
Almost definite. As in, we’ll book a sleeper on the Capital Limited by the end of this week. We have to confirm with Mrs. P’s committee that they’re ready for that week. And I owe my director some edits on the last third (which I can do in a day with enough coffee). And also, there is room for “comments” from committee members in the time leading up to February 16th. I am tired of editing the damned thing. But. At least the end is in site. And at least I won’t have too much trouble remembering what it says when I get asked questions about it. We’ll spend Valentine’s Day either en route to Carbondale, in Carbondale, or perhaps even in Chicago, depending on when Mrs. P’s defense is and when we can get into town and all that. I had sorta been hoping for one last romantic V-Day before we become parents, but this is great enough news I think. I’m not sad at all that we will no longer be “just” a couple next year. There’s a lot of love to go around in our home.
I’m getting extremely tired of hearing morons talking about the recent cold snap as if it disproves “global warming” or something. “The Simpsons” spoofed this recently. It’s bad enough when people make a matter of science into a political position. “I am a conservative, and other conservatives don’t buy into the fact that we are destroying the climate and planet”. Ergo, “I don’t believe in global warming, and I think Al Gore looks fat lately.”
For one, that term is dated. Okay, it’s called “Climate Change” now by most people who pay attention and worry about it. We call it that because stupid people, every winter, say, “Oh, so much for Al Gore and his global warming.” If you go outside when it’s snowing and cold in fucking January and think that disproves global warming, you prove that you don’t understand it or even the basic concept of seasons.
And by attempting to disprove people who have actually studied this wrong by being stupid, you prove that you are an asshole. Yes. If you attempt to outsmart people you can’t outsmart by playing a game that is not the real game, you are an asshole. Snow in January doesn’t prove anything, and if you got off of your ass to study what you’re so worried about disproving — or passed first grade — you’d know it’s nothing unusual. Hell, snow in July doesn’t prove that “global warming” is wrong either.
And, for the record, global temperatures are in fact rising. That means that it could get colder in Baltimore forever, while temperatures rise everywhere else. Yes, global warming could make everyone sweat but you, and it would still exist, still be true, still validate good science in the face of stupid assholes who want to feel good about driving their fuel-sucking big trucks around.
If you’re so worried about “global warming” being untrue, just be honest. Just admit that you think you’re better than everyone else and should be allowed to kill the planet. Admit it publicly, on a T-shirt in clear print. Leave it on your tombstone for your progeny to read, so they’ll know you cared more about yourself and keeping up your habits than you did about them. Do it.
Or, if you don’t want to admit that this is not about science, not about truth, but instead about lining the pockets of your leaders and their friends and about you never having to change your behavior — if you don’t want to admit it, you could just shut the fuck up.
My periodic attempts to rid myself of my coffee addiction have failed miserably.
You may be aware that I’ve been working with my dissertation director to get a date for our defenses before Baby comes. This will involve a train to DC, a train to Chicago, a train to Carbondale, then the same on the way back. Two days of traveling each way. And, you know, a public defense wherein people who didn’t read it can come and ask annoying questions. Not a light trip to make with a pregnant wife, my own neuroses and not a ton of cash for traveling. But, it needs to get done.
I met with my director in November in Washington (took the train down one Friday morning) when he was there for a conference. He promised we’d work this out. He also lightened my spirits by telling me that the defense, in our department, is “celebratory.” That is, it’s finished and a done deal before I get there. The trouble with that is that you don’t get a defense until it’s perfect. Ready to go. I enjoyed myself that morning because my director is a very nice person with whom I have a good bit in common. We took a nice walk on a beautiful day around the Capital, and I ran (literally) to get my train home in a very good mood.
I finished my draft in summer 2007. I didn’t ever look at it until March 2009, when I did some proofreading and sent it after my bike accident in like late April or early May. Asked about maybe a July defense. Then everyone got busy, and nothing happened. When we found out about Baby in August, I emailed my director to see about scheduling, and there was a good bit of suggestions, including tying Emerson into my work. There are worse assignments than having to read a bunch of Emerson, I joked.
Then part one of three took a while to get in shape to everyone’s liking. Part two is Nietzsche, and my director is not a Nietzsche guy. I have some comments to work on for that part, but the Nietzsche guy they brought onto the committee hasn’t had a look yet. That scares me a little. The rest of the comments for the last part are in the mail, too.
So, my director told me to “bug” him as much as I had to when I met with him in November. But I don’t like to do that to people and especially not to people I like, like him. But I did yesterday. I flat out asked for a date. And, he gave me three days in February he thinks would work, and one specific date at 3:30pm (Central Time) that he is shooting for. He’ll get back to me when he gets confirmation from the rest of the committee.
So. Holy shit. I didn’t realize how much this was hanging over my head! We played Scene It? (Simpsons Deluxe Edition) until late last night and slept until 10:04am (our anniversary), to a sunny day and a big Baby belly. I couldn’t remember why my mood was so light! Whenever I think about how long we’ve been back in Baltimore, it’s tainted by my dissertation still hanging over my head, driving me crazy. It almost makes me feel like a failure. I never thought I wouldn’t finish, but I never realized that a good number of the people who start PhD programs don’t get to the prospectus, and a lot of them never finish it. Yikes.
I’m still nervous that the Nietzsche guy is going to go nuts over my Nietzsche work. But, well, if he does and if the date is set, that simply means that I have to pump up on coffee and do whatever he suggests. Simple. Easy, no, but it’ll get done. While we’re not traveling to my favorite place or for my favorite reason, we are traveling. And I do love that. Won’t get to do that again for a long time. And, next time, we’ll get to show Baby the train and how fun it is.
And I can’t believe that, with it being a possibility for so long, I’ll actually be Dr. Johnny officially when I get my diploma in the mail (can’t take that trip with a newborn to walk on stage, but I won’t care with Baby here anyway) in a few months. Wow. I think I need a new nickname on camping trips/cycling. Dan mentioned Doc once, and I like it.
Comments and everything else are back on! Thanks for your patience.
But they are blogged about at NBBB here.
Wow, Baltimore is cold. Given my complaints about the lack of winter in Southern Illinois, I don’t mean to complain now. I like when it’s cold in the winter. Just saying. It’s cold. I’m wearing a scarf in my office, on my lunch break, relaxing with my mp3 player and the internet. My feet are cold. Though, I am wearing socks and sandals.
Shoveling snow two weeks ago when we got the mini blizzard, I was wearing shoes. Wet shoes. My broken toe was killing me. I don’t know if it was the cold, the wet or the shoes. But I do know it feels better in socks and sandals. Too bad everyone stares at me. One bus driver gave me such a look just before the holidays that I was not completely sure he was going to let me on the bus.
My recent injuries hurt a good bit this winter. The non-broken right hand is stiff and painful in the morning. The toe doesn’t like the cold, like the one I shattered pinky toe from 2003. My broken wrist predicts rain, and snow makes it hurt like no one’s business. I was talking about my two metal teeth with my co-worker yesterday, and he said I’m like a roadmap. I think that’s funny. I do need to invent better stories to go along with my defects. My broken teeth? No accident! I defended someone’s honor in a bar fight and got bumbled by three bikers! Etc. Maybe for Baby, when he/she asks why Daddy has metal in his mouth and foot and why his wrist makes noises.
Among the awesome Christmas presents I received this year, I had requested this new volume of selections from Thoreau’s journal. I own the only complete edition currently available (the huge ones from Dover), which were birthday presents from my wife and from my parents five years or so ago. I’m infinitely fond of them, but they are a bit…unwieldy. I have a few of the selections, including the Odell Shepard edition (excellent) and the Dover Thrift edition (which I bought after a thunderstorm in July 2003, at Walden Pond, the day before we moved away from Boston). These make great gifts, great reading on a camping trip or train ride. But they can be so short! I’m hoping this new volume is as great as it sounds. It’s on my nightstand right now, though I’m well into The Road to Oxiana right now.
Fatherhood
