Caring for a woman in labor - "Let the baby out."

Something tells me I have no idea what I'm in for. Don't ask why this thunderbolt of revelation is just now occurring to me, but perhaps it has something to do with this graphic from a really bad birth companion pamphlet that we got at our first birth class:

Phases and Stages of Labor

(I paid HOW much for this class, pamphlet included?)

Frankly, I dare say this is likely an inaccurate representation of labor-provoked facial expressions. The pictures with actual humans in them aren't much better:

Is she planning to give birth in a library???

And her library buddy - who wears coveralls???

The last photo is aptly titled "This is nothing like what I thought it would be." Yup, that pretty much sums it up, folks.

We attended our first "Prepared Childbirth Class" last week - it's a 5 week class so by the time we're done I'll be 34 weeks, and there will be plenty of time to forget everything I just learned. Maybe it was just that nervous first-day-of-the-semester feeling (Should I drop the class? Or stick with it?), but after 2 1/2 hours I wasn't entirely sure what exactly we had signed up for. Except for the much anticipated tour of the labor and delivery wing at the hospital. That I'm looking forward to. Or maybe it gets better in subsequent weeks. I hope so, because let me tell you I can't keep coming back if every week I slip into giggle fits like I did the first week. And it had nothing to do with the mentioning of any part of the female anatomy (please, I work at Planned Parenthood).

I'll jump straight to the relaxation exercise (the first part was just introductions and the instructor guiding us through the book she gave us, because believe me there is nothing more riveting than reading aloud). We get these mats out and these comfy floor chairs and prepare to work on breathing techniques and relaxation (visualization, etc). I'm rolling around on the mat like a stranded seal on the beach, trying to get comfortable, and I look over at Mike who is sitting pleasantly with his eyes closed, breathing deeply. Hmmm...see, last time I checked Mike, you're not shoving anything out of anywhere. So let's try this - let's work on MY breathing, okay?! After a round of breathing where I lay there incredibly frustrated - both at my awkward position on the floor and at Mike's enjoyment of the whole exercise - we finally figured it out and achieved a strong partnership in the process.

In fact, someone should have taken our picture and updated that damn brochure...

Jewno?

Purim 2008

Not bad, eh?

For the record, Mike was not the only Paulie Bleeker at Purim, but he was most definitely the best. None of the other Bleekers had a Juno - take that! (He even had orange Tic-Tacs...I would have had a Slurpee, but we were running late.)

They have rent-a-shoes!

When our friends Bill and Carin announced their joint birthday bowling celebration, my first thought was, "Can I do that?" I decided to find out, trial-by-fire style. So we showed up at the ever-classy Mar Vista Lanes on Saturday night for a night of birthday revelry with our friends, and I was ready to challenge the pregnant gods and any naysayers that thought it couldn't be done. But first I had to tackle the shoes...no, not rent-a-foot-disease, rather tying the suckers. I can no longer comfortably bend over to tie my shoes.

Perhaps this was a sign...

Now normally I'm a pretty decent bowler, if I do say so myself, for someone who plays once every couple years at best. I can throw down multiple strikes in a game, and usually score over 100. But Saturday night, I got reacquainted with the gutter ball. My first trip down the lane was surely awkward...I tried to bowl as normal, but the ball whizzed diagonally down the lane right into the gutter. Clearly, I was off balance. In fact, I've got my own damn bowling ball strapped to my rib cage for crying out loud. This continued for a few turns until I finally started to hit some pins.

And the nerve of the televised scoring system, let me tell you! After each turn, an animated graphic would show up on the screen with a suggestion of what you should do next time to basically score a spare. "Aim for pin 3, which will also knock out pin 6 and the ball will hit 9 and 10." But it my case it was more like "Hey moron, try getting the ball to knock over a pin and you'll score some points." Shut up.

When the first game was done, I actually did NOT lose! There were four of us on our lane and someone actually scored WORSE than me! And I figured I got to double my score - since, after all, I'm bowling for two - so my 63 became a 126, beating Mike's non-pregnant score of 125. DING DING DING - we have a winner!

I probably should have noticed the "Bowl at Your Own Risk" warning before I started my game, but when I was Monday morning quarterbacking, Babycenter.com told me that bowling can certainly be a safe activity for preggers ladies. Oh good. My sore left butt cheek disagrees, but that's a whole other story...

For your enjoyment - which is bigger? The ball or the baby?

More fun with non-names

First I'd like to thank everyone who supports this blog by reading it and visiting all of our wonderful advertisers' sites. You are truly gentlemen and scholars. It wasn't so long ago that I only thought Rainy was reading this (another shout out to Big Rain Dawg), but now I hear that people are sending their friends' co-workers' parents' cousins to the site, which is nice.

We got a lot of responses to the "what we are not going to name the kid" post, especially from people whose Hebrew name is Faygie. Who knew how popular Faygie is?! Maybe it'll go back on the big board... wait, no it won't. Anyhoo, we were at Ari "The Moss Man" Moss's house recently for a Friday night booze-and-boogie session (I had the booze, Kim had the apple juice; the baby boogied) and came up with a few more names that will not be on the list, including:

1. Anything that would sound weird going directly before "silver," like Golda or Sterling. Moss said that if we name the kid Sterling, he will name his firstborn Pete (get it? Pete Moss?), which would be more tempting if Ari had a pregnant wife, or even a pregnant girlfriend, or for that matter, a girlfriend. You're killing your grandmother Ari! All she wants is a great-grandchild!

2. Any body part. I know, a lot of you were hoping for little Balls Tit Silverstein, but it ain't gonna happen.

3. Any name of a religious savior not from our religion, including Allah, Jesus, Jesus with the Spanish pronunciation, Buddha, or L. Ron.

4. The secret name for GD in Hebrew, which is spelled yud-hay-vav-hay and is unpronounceable. This could lead to the following exchange:

Person: Hi, what's your name?
The kid: (smiling politely)
Person: OK...
The kid: Here, let me write it out for you.
Person: How do you pronounce that?
The kid: You don't.
Person: (awkward silence)

5. Moshiach, which is the Hebrew word for "messiah." It would be a nice name, and who knows, maybe our kid will be the messiah (somehow I doubt it though). However, I can just imagine a situation where young Moshiach Silverstein is misbehaving and I sternly say, "Moshiach, I want you to come right this instant. Moshiach, NOW!" And 100 Lubavitchers would go into palpitations.

6. Corey.

Party on party people. - Papa Mike

"This is an exciting time in your life, let us help you enjoy it." - Babies R Us

This weekend we made the formidable trip to Babies R Us...figured at some point we needed to case the joint and see what kinds of decisions we would need to make. We quickly realized that the main decision - rather, realization - is that you don't need 2/3 of the crap they sell there. A wipes warmer? Really?

Wipes Warmer With Light (With a light??? You don't say...)

In any case, the journey really felt like a day trip...for some reason in LA county, stores such as these (and other bigger baby-stuff warehouses) only exist in the Valley and in Torrance. So you pretty much have no choice but to go on a Sunday or else you would spend more time in traffic than you would wandering the aisles. It worked out nicely for us because we got to combine our errands with a lunch date with our friend Kristin, who lives in Torrance, AND even more fortunately for Mike we got to eat at the only Pat & Oscar's that we know of in a remotely reasonable travel distance.

We were warned that a shot of Scotch might be in order before attempting to navigate BRU, and since I'm now safely in the third trimester I strongly considered it. And we weren't even going with the intention of buying anything. (I have a feeling this is not the last time we will receive this advice.) I think we handled ourselves quite fine actually - for the most part it was fun, looking at all the cute stuff and laughing in disbelief that soon we'd actually have a BABY! (Sometimes I forget that the pregnancy doesn't just end with no tangible outcome.) We toured the perimeter of store, looking at the zillions of strollers, pack and plays, baths, diapers, wall decor, toys, clothes, etc. and there seemed to be no end in sight. We opted not to get a registry gun because somehow it just doesn't seem as fun to impulse "buy" for yourself when a person's life depends on your choices, as opposed to just your dinner guests' taste in china patterns from the wedding registry. We did end up picking out some things we liked for the baby's room, but refrained making any purchases.

Except for the pregnancy book. I think we (and by "we" I mean "I") spent as much time hemming and hawing over which pregnancy memory book to buy than we did over something practical, like say a stroller. One had a cuter design, but the other had better questions and more room for photos. It's not like I had to compare safety ratings or consumer satisfaction so I defend my inability to make a decision because it was all gray area I was dealing with. Besides with friends like Shawn and Zuzana who have already made tons of great product-related decisions, who needs to hem and haw when we can just buy everything they have?! Seriously though, they've given us great advice so far and we are very grateful. I can't imagine someone walking blind into BRU and not having the slightest sense as to where to start when it comes to buying important stuff like strollers and car seats.

The funniest part of the experience was that everyone in the store is there for the same reason - to buy things for someone small and cute. So by default, even the punked out dudes with spiky hair and tattoos are kinda adorable as they walk around the store carrying onesies. Our favorites were the two guys wandering cluelessly as they nervously consulted the printed registry list they were carrying. They just weren't the types you'd expect to see in a store like this. Because the expected types looked like us - a woman waddling around with a partner or relative in tow as they tested out and examined the multitude of (mostly) unneeded products.

After the rest of the baby errands, which also included a trip to USA Baby to browse cribs, we stopped by to see little Abby where Mike got a tutorial in diaper changing and we both learned more about the car seat/stroller system we are planning to buy. The predictable irony, of course, was that we learned more from Shawn and Zuzana and Abby in an hour than we ever could have wandering up and down Hawthorne Blvd...most importantly, that it's never too soon to take your infant on her first trip to Peet's!

So much to do, so little time...

If you've been reading the previous posts, you're aware of my sleeping issues and whatnot. Well, I have finally settled into a manageable comfort situation with the Snoogle, much to my relief. Sleeping is no longer a painful and arduous process, for the most part at least. I've had other things keeping me up - thinking about the closet space and what needs to go where, anxiety about jobs and money, and most recently the delicious cold and sore throat that has invaded my body over the last week. Seriously, as if having a cold isn't annoying enough as it is, try strapping a basketball to your stomach and then hacking with all your might over and over again. It's quite astounding how wretched the whole experience is, especially when you nearly tip over every time you sneeze. Thanks to my new friend Robitussin, I'm feeling much better. AND Mike has adjusted rather well to the Snoogle - he says they have come to an agreement, and look how I found him this morning after I got up to get the paper:

Things are coming together otherwise. We successfully cleaned out several drawers and some of the closet in the guest room, and we're posting our extra TV and entertainment center on Craig's List. Even though we might have 3 months left, the early arrival of several of Super Baby's friends has left us with advice to be more prepared than they were, at least in terms of bare necessities since we're not decorating or doing furniture until after the blessed arrival. So really, we've got about 2 months to really get our act together.

Speaking of arrivals, shout out to Baby Landres who arrived last Sunday...she graced the red carpet in style!