Charlotte’s first Halloween, very lately.


Two weeks into WINTERBEARD. Wait, less, I think. I’m hairy. Not now.  Now I only have a brown soulpatch.  Charlotte’s much hairier now. It takes effort to dry her hair and to rinse the shampoo/soap out of it.

She hates both of these things.

The fact that she’s inherited out big heads does not  help the situation, not at all.


Mama with Charlotte at the Costume Parade. Said costume was made by Grandma and Mama. I always had lovingly homemade Halloween costumes. Though, to be sure, they didn’t look homemade. (Grandma’s a whiz with the sewing machine!)

Despite all my wife’s very excellent qualities, downloading photos from her camera to her computer is not one of her strengths. I stole the memory card and copied it to mine. So be prepared to be overwhelmed with cuteness and pictures of messes.

Not poop, though. Mama  doesn’t take pictures of that. Er, uh, me neither.

Interesting facts about the birth of our daughter.


I’m tempted to do a play-by-play. But, for one, I barely had the energy and time to journal about it. For another, there was a lot of gore and fear and terror and love, and I don’t think I’m a good enough writer to do it justice. In the end, though, I think it’s not my place. Yes, I was there. I was scared and shouting and crying and smiling and gasping along with Charlotte’s mother. But I didn’t get sewn back together and almost give birth without medication. I feel like it’s Mama’s to write about, and she’s not a blogger.  So these are just the facts, Jack.

Mama’s contractions got so bad that she cried, screamed, dropped to all fours. The jokes she told me to remember to tell her when the time came didn’t help at all. Neither did a walk, a movie, etc. The midwife on call at the hospital told her, No, don’t come in. We tried to go to sleep at midnight, but apparently I passed out on my own.Mama  woke me up at 1am telling me that it was time to go. In my stupor, I begged her to come back to bed.

At the hospital, I had to keep running around to get guest passes and had to leave her twice. I hated that.

By the time we got to Labor and Delivery, Mama was beside herself with pain. She was also 7cm dilated. The epidural was ordered, and we were admitted to a room. I had to get another pass from security, and the guard was not at his post and was a jerk when he got back.

We got to the room, and two young residents were discussing how dilated Mama was, where the on-call doctor was and whether there was time for the epidural. Sparing scary and TMI details, it was almost too late for the epidural because the midwife let us stay home too long (confirmed verbally by three doctors — I have no beef with midwives, just that one) and because the anaesthesiologist was taking too long to show up. My wife screamed, “Please!” to give her the damned epidural and even begged at one point, “Why can’t I have it?!” In retrospect, this melts my freakin heart and makes me feel like a wanker for not jacking up whoever I had to in order to get her the drugs she was begging for. The mean anaesthesiologist finally came, complained that my wife’s back was sweaty and then left the room without turning on the drip (luckily, the nurse noticed). Once the drugs were in, Mama was her old self again.

We didn’t wait long before it was time to break the water and PUSH. Geez. I had to hold a leg, while a room full of people encouraged Mama. In the end, Baby needed a little help from the vacuum, and Mama had a pretty large episiotomy. Very large. Baby was stuck on her way out, and the vacuum and cutting were necessary. Plus, she’s our kid and has a big head.

Baby came out like a starfish with a tube in her belly, screaming. My wife’s joy cries and terror cries are the same, and I thought for a second that something was wrong. But they asked, “Does Dad wanna cut the cord?” and I was handed this instrument that looked fit for cutting off my own hands. Once the cord was cut, they gave Charlotte to Mama, then to me, as they had to bring in another doctor to sew Mama back up again.

Yeah, there was blood and poop everywhere. Baby pooped on everyone but me because she’d become stressed by being stuck. And Mama was really torn up. The man who they had to bring in was oozing with competence somehow, and that made me feel better. I also felt, well, happier than I’d been in my thirty years that I got to hold Charlotte for the better part of an hour, while Mama was getting repaired by a room full of people while she was completely awake.

Charlotte was looking around, blinking slowly, taking us all in. She seemed to recognize her parents by our voices (and her grandparents later in the same way). I’d never had a better hug in my entire life than the cuddles we had while Mama was getting repaired.

And, to back up the three pieces of identification that they put onto her before she left the room, she has my family’s butt-chin! She looks like all the men with my last name, that is, the four of us still alive from my Dad’s side of the family.

They took Charlotte to the nursery, and I walked as far as they’d let me. Once Mama was put back together, Grandma and Grandpa came in, and we all watched the morning unfold in downtown Baltimore. Uncle Tom and Uncle Joey were on the way with coffee and donuts.

All was right with the world.

Baby soon?

OB Apt: Mama’s 80% effaced and 2cm dilated. Blood pressure’s high, but it looks like Baby won’t be late, after all that bed rest!

Mama and Baby updates, sorta.


(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.

On the bright side, I get to cycle more.


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!

Mama’s on bedrest.


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.

Mama’s stomach seems better.

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.

Scary OB visit.

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.”

Mama’s sick.

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.