and March...

After a quick (and perhaps deflating) look at the calendar, I realized that the birth window actually extends into March. We could be looking at two March babes after all.

February

If I could stay up any later, I would. I want to welcome in February with eyes wide open. Toast to the month with a glass of red, red wine that our new baby will be born.

Due month is here.

The kiddo is doing a twist and shout in my womb to celebrate. The midwife predicted that this kid will be about 8 pounds. Or rather is now about 8 pounds. (As if they know these things.) But, the kid is dancing away, swaying from the right to the left side of my belly and jumping up and down on my bladder for good measure.
We are looking at 18 days until d-day. I am just hoping to keep the kid in until then. We have a serious to-do list staring at us in the face.

Brooke Shields

On the surface, it might appear that I don't have a lot in common with Brooke Shields. And for the most part, you'd be right.

There is the obvious...I have not appeared nude in a movie. Indeed, I have not appeared in any movie. Nor have I starred in a TV show.

I did not attend an Ivy League university, but a Jesuit one. I did not major in French literature, but squeezed out a double major in history and philosophy.

Whereas nothing came between her and her Calvin Kleins, mostly the price and my predilection for shopping at Target come between me and any pair of Calvins.

You might think that she outshines me.
But, I one-upped her.
Always the over-achiever, I got my postpartum depression early.

My hormones have taken me for a ride this pregnancy. Not a pleasant one. My midwife assures me that this is normal...1 in 5 women do experience depression during pregnancy. In most cases, it doesn't mean that postpartum depression is imminent. Usually, depression just works itself out as the new babylove exits the birth canal.

Just like Brooke, I want you to know it happens. And that is why I haven't returned your calls in weeks and weeks.

Please don't go all Tom Cruise on my tail.

Fish Ladders

I am trying not to turn this into a dream blog. But, this one was too good to pass up.

Last night, I dreamed that my Dave was on an ecological tour of some rivers on the Eastern Shore of Maryland (yes, the Maryland reference did not escape me) with my doula. While there, he decided to deconstruct some old humidifiers and make ladders so that the fish could easily spawn in their desired location. He fashioned some bolt cutters out of regular scissors and proudly pioneered a design that would enable to the fish to jump off at different parts and not feel too constrained. The ladders were actually double ladders...the center part was open and free so that fish could easily maneuver within it all.

I cannot lie. I don't really enjoy being the fish in this scenario. But, the unconscious sense of trust that I feel for Dave is deep and secure. I love that.

Let's just hope that birth is not too imminent.

Under (Name) Pressure

I have one son. His name is Spencer Emmanuel.

Yet, I have had more than one dream where his name is Andy. Andy wasn't even on the short list of names. Heck, it wasn't even on the long list of names. Yet, it is the name that comes out of my lips when I see my son.

Name remorse?

Perhaps. But, my waking self is quite content with his name. Early on, there was a bit of me that wished we had used his Hebrew name (Lior) for his English name, but whatever. It was a fleeting thought.

But with this babe in the womb, the name pressure is on. We don't know the gender of this kiddo. I am feeling boy. Dave is feeling girl. We have decided this will (most likely) be the our last kid. So, I am feeling like this is my chance to name my child after my mom.

Norma Jean.

If it is a girl, we'll probably name her Nora. I don't think I could deal with the same name. Too close. But, Nora is a nice compromise. There are other options as well, but Nora seems the clear front runner. I am not so concerned about the middle name for some reason. We have a few ideas, but I guess because I am feeling boy, I am not so worried.

But, the flood gates of worry burst open when I think of boy names. Norman is out. Who wants a son to one day experience the glory of the sitcom Cheers throughout his life? And yes, while a beloved cousin pointed out that old names are coming back, Norman will not be included in our family tree. Because the closest name to Norma is ruled out, I have settled on the idea that the boy will share her initials...either N.J. or the inverted J.N.

Nash? Nolan? Nuri? Neville? Noah?
Josiah? Jasper? Jeremiah? Jericho?

We could also do place names. Emory was the street I grew on. But, is that really a tribute? Or we could go with the meaning of Norma. "North man; Norseman." Yeah, right.

My dear husband is not worried. (Again, he's feeling girl.) But, I am. We have sat in front of the gazillion of baby name websites culling through J and N names. Trying to put them together. It's not really gelling.

"We'll figure it out when 'he's' here."

Yes, I am sure the fact that we have no names even written down on a list will make name picking postpartum so easy.

So before we hire a baby name consultant, I turn to you. Ideas?

Thank you, Annalise.

For better or worse, Annalise strongly suggested that I pick up the blog again in 2009. So, here goes a quick post, just to squeak out some of the rust in my knuckles.

My husband is walking around in his underwear that I think he has had since we started dating and a wool hat. I know that he has lots of theories about how simply wearing a hat keeps you warm, but I don't think a hat overrides wearing pants. But, what do I know? He also didn't bring a winter coat to our New Year's Eve festivities in Duluth. Do I need to mention that we haven't hit freezing since early December? And that we are pretty darn conservative with the heat register? (And that we do not have curtains in a majority of our windows?)

And I am full of baby. I discovered a new stretch mark today that dangles from my flattening belly button. If the baby arrives on time, I still have seven weeks to work on a symmetrical stretch marks to create a sun around my belly button. Wish me luck. Maybe I will just get a tattoo to make me look like a bad ass mom and disguise the marks.

Alrighty, here's to brand new posts in 2009.

Mer-Family

Last night, I dreamed that I lived in a FEMA trailer. Actually two that were loosely connected. Spence slept in one, Dave and I in the other. In the middle of the night, I heard him stirring and went to him.

As I rocked him back to sleep, the FEMA custodian and his children walked through Spence's room.

"He's up again?" he asked me. Again? I'm thinking. Who is this guy? But, I nod as if this is normal that a random stranger with his children would be walking through my son's FEMA trailer after midnight.

"I usually do this" he says as he proceeds to rub his back in this new-fangled way. Spence immediately went to sleep. Great, he knows my son better than I do.

I was about to ask him just who exactly he was and how often he puts my son to sleep when the trailer started moving. Quickly. I ran to the window to look out and notice that this trailer and one other were hooked up to circus trucks.

We were being abducted by circus masters. I started to silently pray that Dave was in the other trailer. Maybe he'd know how to escape from the circus.

The FEMA trailer picked up steam as we were headed down these steep hills. I was bracing myself against the wall. Spence was still sleeping soundly.

Suddenly the trailer stopped and we were ushered out in the middle of San Francisco. Some faceless circus people threatened us and I felt like I was totally under their control. They informed us that we were to go shopping to get some winter clothes, as we would be leaving shortly for colder climates. I looked over and saw Spence shivering.

I hatched a plan to pretend that my credit card was having some issues (not so far fetched) and ask to use the phone to verify some information. It worked and I was able to get a hold of Dave.

He was there in a flash. We made brief eye-contact and knew our next move. I ran into a specialty swimming store and bought this suit for Spence for cold waters. I threw it on him. Dave and I joined hands and dove into the ocean as the circus people chased us.

Upon hitting the waves, Dave and I became mer-people. Yes, we grew tails. We carefully cradled Spence in his protective suit as we undulated further under water. I knew he would eventually grow a tail, as his parents were both mer-people. But, he had been reared on land and it would take some time. Hence, the special suit.

We were free.