Sunday, May 25, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
What happens in a dark room
We did this thing called nuchal translucency test. It involves having an ultrasound (number 2 in our case) and it happens between weeks 10 and 13 (according to most of my internet research though the staff at St. Vincent ’s wouldn’t do it before 11.5 weeks). This test is usually done for pregnant women over 35 to establish the probability of having a baby with a down syndrome. I’m not there quite yet so don’t ask why but I went along with this test even if I didn’t feel like it (it’s not diagnostic but depending on the results, it may call for diagnostic testing).
It was too early to determine the gender of the baby (which we may or may not choose to do yet), but it was an adventure seeing the little profile and the little legs and the little hands and the fact that the thing is clearly alive… INSIDE ME*. The baby definitely looked like it was floating in water and hiccupping. It** wasn’t turned the right way (they need to see the back of the neck) Chris, un-fazed, not missing a beat says: come on Twitchy, turn. This sent me to a small fit of laughter that may or may not have helped turn the baby.
Non-parenthetical footnotes for our child:
* No offense kid, it’s just one of those things that freakamaze me right now, you’ll understand sometime after you come out
** Sorry for calling you It – it’s perfectly normal in Bosnian, your aunt will teach you how that works
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Spring time walks and talks
Chris and I have been taking a long way to the subway, needing the exercise. He's not working these days, so we get a cup of coffee (for him) and a protein drink (for me) from Connecticut Muffin and we stroll to B train via Prospect Park West, Carroll street and 7th Avenue. We're still discussing the place and manner for the birth, but we're getting slower to a consensus...
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Beasts of pregnancy
Chris will tell you that the first trimester is a forest teaming with beasts that attack. The first one he spotted and tried to combat was Aggrawart. This monster is tricky because mommies barely notice it but he prays on and chews on dads. A typical scenario may play out like this:
- Are you ready?
- No, I’m not ready!!! This dress is obnoxious and my water bottle stinks. This house is a mess. Where are my shoes?? WHERE are my shoes???
- I like that dress.
- I don’t want to go – pushing him on the side to sit down on futon
- Hon, hon calm down, I think that was just the Aggrawart. Here, I have a new bottle… and your shoes are outside the door.
Later he discovered Exhaustapus. He’s got 8 tentacles that hug you tight and suck out the energy out. He’s never quite satisfied and Chris figured a way to fight him is to, imagine this, go out for a walk in the park. We fought him for a while.
Or there is this one: You may be lunching in a nice French bistro some Sunday on, say, Lexington avenue, conversing about the recent lecture by one Dr. Timothy Keller when you observe that the bus-boy seems a little too tall and too slow for the guests and waiters, who are rolling their eyes at him. And you notice that he’s ultra-nice, ultra-obliging, running around trying to please but then you hear a sound of shattered glass. Now the things turn to worse. In your head, you imagine this poor man growing up and being always made fun of and how he never managed to get through school and how he’s so darn unfortunate but was at some point a tiny little baby with lots of potential and…. Tears, real life tears start flowing down you face. Your obliging husband may be completely dumbfounded by this, but an observant one will notice that is just a Weepasaurus. Nothing to worry about.
Chris pointed out that we’ve hear from others about Vomitron, but we must be lucky. Maybe it’s not his hunting season or we managed to set up our campsite out of his way. We’re both happy about that.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
How we found out...
- So, what do you think? I'll go do this?
- Mmmm -- ha? - waking up - Yes, yes, it's time.
-Wanna come along? - I misjudge his lack of energy for disinterest.
- Yes - and probably thinks to himself 'yes, dumbass, what kind of question is that?'
I had already read the directions for this thing a couple of times yesterday (on Monday, Chris "approved" the Wednesday or Thursday purchase) so I follow them correctly and place the item on the bathroom sink. We are supposed to wait for a sign.
Chris is sitting on the bathtub. We're looking at each other in disbelief and anticipation, while peeking at the thing on the sink. It slowly starts to say this:


