While the snow is falling like crazy, and my belly is full.
We were up late talking about Baby names in the spring, when we first decided to, not only have a baby, but also to have one very very soon. I’ve probably mentioned that I never ever wanted children. Ever. And Mrs. P knew all about it, before we ever got engaged or married or very married. (I think she knew I’d change my mind, though she denies it.) Anyway, we were up on a Tuesday night. Thinking of names in our living room. I think I might have been standing because my hands were still trashed from my bike wreck, and I was idle too often.
We had liked Magdalena for a girl — Maggie for short. (See “The Simpsons” and its influence on our lives!) But Mrs. P felt like it was a little….odd. It’s heavy. Biblical in a super biblical way. Not that biblical is bad. My “real” name is John after all. But, you know her roll in the bible. Made me think of the A Perfect Circle Song, too, from Mer de Noms:
overcome by your moving temple
overcome by this holiest of altars
so pure, so rare
to witness such a lovely goddessi lost my self control
beyond compelled to throw this dollar down
before your holiest of altarsi’ll sell my soul, my self esteem
a dollar at a time for one chance, one kiss
one taste of you my magdalenai’ve beared witness to this place, this lair, so long forgotten
so pure, so rare, to witness such a lovely goddessand i’d sell my soul, my self-esteem
a dollar at a time for one chance, one kiss,
one taste of you my black madonnai’ll sell my soul, my self-esteem
a dollar at a timefor one taste, one taste
one taste of you my magdalena
Yeah, not sure if we wanted to name our daughter that, assuming we had a girl. If we had a boy, the name was easy. I’m a Junior, and my wife always liked the idea of a Johnny 3. I’d change my name legally to The Second because it sounds cool. I have a moderately bizarre middle name, which I’d rather not inflict on another person, but I think Mrs. P’s mind was made up.
Girls’ names: I’d always liked Vera, my paternal grandmother’s name, a woman I never met who died when my father was only 8 or 9. It means “truth.” Mrs. P didn’t like it. Or Sophia. I’d joked about having a girl named Sophia Vera, i.e., Wisdom and Truth — funny when her father spent his adult life so far studying [and trying to practice] philosophy. Those were a little over the top, now that I think of it, even if they are both pretty names and even if Vera will always be special to me because of the woman I never got to meet.
My wife suggested some other names: Evey (British spelling, mostly from V for Vendetta), Zoe, Charlotte. We felt like Zoe was pretty popular and came up with Charlotte Zoe as Baby’s first and middle names. We’d call her Charlie. When we mentioned this to folks later, the response was either, “Oh, fizzle, that’s adorable!” or, “I know a real C-word named Charlotte.” Now, our daughter would never be a C-word; I’m sure. Adorable, yes; of course.
We were up so late that night that we didn’t put the recycling bin out before bed like we usually do. When Mrs. P took it out the next morning (because my hands were still too buggy to carry it), there was a sign on the poll right near where we put our recycling. Someone named Charlotte had lost her cat named Zoe and needed help finding her.
So even if I’m not religious and usually tend to the sentimental and superstitious side of things much more than the faithful, believing or even hoping side, I knew we would have a girl from a couple of months before we officially starting trying to have a baby at all. Maybe we’re reading way too much into a coincidence, as someone I know (who was, I confess, the biggest downer I’ve met recently) suggested. Or, well, maybe, possibly, it certainly appears to us — this baby was….dare I say it….meant to be?
You know, I think I forgot to mention Baby G’s gender. Me, I knew in April, before we were even trying. Funny story.
(Baby G’s little feet, hopefully not as wide and hairy as his/her Dad’s.)
Wow. There’s a lot going on in our little apartment these days, with Baby trying to kick his/her way out of Mama’s belly, while Mama is on bed rest and trying not to have Baby too soon. We hit 30 weeks this week. So even if Baby comes relatively soon, she’ll probably be Okay. Hopefully.
So we went to the OB last week. I think Mama was glad to get out of the apartment and building! The halls (floors, walls and ceiling) are all being replaced in our building, and she hadn’t seen the nice job the painters did on the first floor. I’d forgotten that she hadn’t been through our front door in nearly a week. Anyway, Dr. Jones had said we’d be going weekly to see her for the rest of the pregnancy when we saw her two weeks ago at 28 weeks (it’s “normal” to go every two at this point). But she said that everything had “stabilized” and that we didn’t have to come back for two weeks last Wednesday. After the scary visits we’d had the preceding two weeks, Mama and I were both ecstatic. But then she remembered that it meant two weeks without going anywhere. Still, good news that Baby will cooperate with cooking for a few more weeks before busting out into the world and his/her parents’ cuddles.
(Yes, I said “cuddles.”)
I still have a ton of work to do on Baby’s room. There are books to find homes for on other bookshelves as much as possible; a bookshelf to move; dozens of books to give away; storage boxes to be sorted through, thinned out and repacked; a big giant closet that needs to be cleaned out; painting the room (!); going to Ikea to get the furniture we picked out; storing the desktop computer (and giving away the desk), since the two netbooks we ordered last week should come this week or next (thanks for the vague timing, Ma and Pa Dell!); probably things I forgot. It’s for Baby; so I can handle it. I’m glad to do it.
I’m waiting for my apartment building to fix my kitchen phone jack (over which they painted) and to fix some water damage to the wall in Baby’s room so that I can paint. Maybe I can get finished some leaps this week and this weekend, with cleaning, possibly painting. Like a half dozen people have offered to help, and it’s just one room with three doors (one to the hallway, one the closet, one to the bathrooom) and a big window.
It won’t be hard.
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.
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