T-minus nine hours to C-Section time!

The laundry is done, the crib assembled, the Pack 'n Play is set up and the diapers are put away. Tomorrow at 5:45 a.m. Jeff and I head to the hospital to check in for the C-section.

So yeah, she didn't flip at all. Not that I really expected her to in a way. I'm at peace with the idea that this is going to be a C-section. Like I said before, as long as she's happy and healthy (and secondary, I'm fine in the aftermath) I'll be fine.

Admittedly as each hour passes and we get closer to surgery, I'm getting more nervous. Not in a bad way. Not in the "OMG! I can't do this! I'm leaving for Vegas!" way, but more like "Whoa. This is getting real. Fast." Part of me is coping by not talking about the baby in some way for a few minutes.

Jeff and I went out for dinner tonight and talked a lot about the baby until there was silence. And then I finally broke the silence.

"My the weather's been hot." The perfect line for SOMEONE YOU DON'T KNOW!

So yeah, I'm nervous, but I'm also trying to be cool. I figure I might have a minor freakout at the hospital, but everything should be fine I hope. Next time you hear from me, I'll probably be sleep deprived and covered in spit-up.

Wish me luck peeps. I'm off to Parentland.

I'm so not ready for this

One problem with having a job that has a lot of night hours is that you don't have a lot of time to get your personal life in order. And that's pretty much essential when you've got to put a nursery together. Especially when your baby may show up a week earlier than you anticipated.

Long story short -- we don't know if the shorty's breech or not, so a C-section has been scheduled for June 21 -- a little more than a week away. Most doctors don't have breech birth experience (because approximately four percent of all births are breech) and there's a bigger movement to have all breech births go to C-section because of the potential risk for the baby outweighs the C-section risks. If she decides to flip on June 21, then there's no C-section.

Anyways, we still need to get a lot of stuff done. I haven't put away diapers, washed clothes or even packed the bag needed for when we go to the hospital. Our house isn't clean. My nights have been filled with work and baby classes, so I haven't had time to really do anything for the kid.

And let's not talk about the weekends. They've been packed with stuff too -- last weekend was fun seeing my sister, her family, Mom and even my cousin Alicia. Next weekend is Jeff's brother's wedding. Then there's a baby.

I need a fairy godmother. Anyone got one they can loan me?

So where the hell have you been?

I know I've been crappy with updates as of late and I've got several reasons for that -- first off the cold that wouldn't die sucked sleep out of my body (I wound up waking up not to pee, but to cough hard enough to have a lung come out and need to be reinserted back into my body).

Part of me didn't want to take anything because I didn't know if it would affect the girl or not. That's the thing about pregnancy -- you really stop thinking about yourself and you're focused on the wee one in your belly.

Mercifully, a nurse I talked to told me "Oh you poor dear! Here's a list of medicines you can take."

If I could've leaped through the phone lines to kiss her, I would have.

Anyways, that's not the only reason -- I had a bunch of late nights with work and then baby classes, so my time's been crunched. But I have to recap one big thing for me that happened last Saturday -- the baby shower.

First off my mom, Jeff and godmother are saints. They helped clean and prep the house while I sniffled, slept and coughed up my lungs a couple of times. Erich also deserves big kudos for helping assemble the grill (who knew that our girl would demand a grill before she arrived?) and Michael also deserves a pat on the back for going out and getting last-minute stuff.

But it was a good time, quite tiring, but a good time. With our house packed with people, it was hard to talk to people and hang out like a normal party -- this was about mingling and making sure everyone was alright. As for the loot, I think that the girl will be kitted out quite nicely in clothes. Mercifully not all of them are pink -- it's nice knowing that there's green, blue, yellow and other girly clothes that don't look like they went through a Pepto dye job.

Also, thanks to everyone who came to the shower. I'm glad to know that we've got a good group of friends who are also celebrating the arrival of Geek 2.0 into our lives.

Oh yeah, and anudder thing. This is for the people who don't believe me when I said my ankles disappear:

Another terrifying sign of pregnancy

I was just on the phone with my sister when suddenly I looked at my ankles. Or rather, where my ankles used to be. Apparently my legs have decided to eat my ankles and become, well, cankles.

Looking more at my body, it's evident that my knees have also disappeared. It takes a great deal of effort take my wedding ring on and off.

I am now hideously bloated. I do believe the baby girl isn't just growing in my uterus, but she's also attempting to take over the rest of my body.

This is what I'd do with my kid...

If Jeff wouldn't have a fit about teaching our girl to swear (even if it was temporary):

Diaper dilemmas

So Jeff and I finally finished our baby registry at Target and Babies R Us today. Well, finished as close as we can get because I still have a nagging feeling that I forgot something very important that's required for her to live -- like oxygen or something. But no matter what, if it's needed, we still can buy it. We're not going to a strange planet where we'll never be able to get diapers, pacifiers, blankets or really noisy toys that are supposed to help with brain development.

Anyways, we were in the aisle -- the aisle where our postponed conversations were going to come to a head -- the diaper aisle filled with Target, Pampers and Huggies brands of diapers. Tons of plastic and weird chemicals to keep a baby's bottom totally dry.

My inner Al Gore (yes, those Earth Day specials made an impact on me as a kid), could be heard screaming "Do you know how many diapers are in our landfills? Do you know how long they'll be in the landfill? FOREVER!"

Originally I thought I'd go with cloth diapers for my wee one, but after seeing how much water is needed to soak, then wash the diapers, it seemed wasteful to me too. Not to mention, the stories about leakage were enough to scare the hell out of me. I mean, if friends of ours, who are environmentally conscious gave up and switched to disposable, what chance did I have?

Then I did some research online and found gDiapers, which could best be described as a maxi pad for a baby. Basically it's a hybrid of a cloth and disposable, but instead of the dirty part going into the landfill, it's flushed down to the sewer system, where most poop goes anyways.

I'm willing to give gDiapers a shot before completely bagging it and going to disposable. I know that we make compromises as an adult for the best care for our children and there's a certain point where we make compromises with our ideals, but I'd like to postpone that as much as possible. I also see this as a chance to try and do something to make sure my girl has a better world to live in, not just now, but for the future. And really, if I can afford to try and do that now, why not?

But as a compromise to Jeff, we did register for a couple of packages of diapers. We'll also be getting gDiapers too just to test them out.

As for the whole registry thing, because I'm a privacy freak at times, let me know if you're interested and I'll get the information out to you one way or another.

So where can I register for a roadie named Bart?

Jeff and I -- with a bit of help from Mike and Em -- just began the big, wide world of registering for baby gear. I'm still mindboggled about how much stuff a baby needs as well as the marketing that's used for it.

First thing we observed about the marketing is how it plays on your worst fears regarding your baby. For example, this monitor -- if no movement is detected in 20 seconds, then an alarm goes off. I couldn't help but imagine that a laser alarm system, similar to the one seen in Entrapment or any other heist films.

Really, I figured that a motion alarm would be needed for when our girl turns into a teenager and attempts to sneak out of the house.

Then there's the marketing that says that if you don't buy a certain product, your child's IQ will be subpar and they'll run off and marry Kevin Federline or something. For example, food with DHA and RHA. Nevermind the fact that those hormones are naturally found in breast milk, which is free (a bargain in comparison to the $90 for four huge containers of the stuff, which would apparently last a month or so if you use only that).

That's not to say that I'm going to be a breastfeeding Nazi and say that any mother who goes with formula is killing their child. I was fed formula and did alright -- I'm not a serial killer and I never married Kevin Federline or have a below-normal intelligence (my manners however are different). It's your choice, and given the judgement that you get as a parent, I'm not going to get in anyone grill for their decisions -- unless the kid ends of as a serial killer.

Speaking of the boob -- the utilitarian aspect of one's breasts are made aware at baby shops. We asked questions about pumps, pads needed to absorb leaking milk and even what salves are needed before your nipples toughen up to the vacuum onslaught of a hungry child. This is where you're reminded that the boob isn't just about sex -- it's about feeding a baby. After having all the Victoria Secret ads and stuff crammed in your face, it's a little weird to be talking about cracked nipples and soreness.

Marketing for babies too is similar to the bridal industry -- just slap the word "baby" onto anything, and you can jack the price up by 300 percent or so because parents feel that they need it for the perfect child.

One problem I have keeping a straight face through most things. When we were going through the registry process with the very nice sales person, I couldn't help but think of oddball things:

Sales person: "And if you need any help figuring out what stroller to buy, ask someone in a purple vest and they'll help you find what you want with cupholders, seats and other stuff."

Me (thinking): "Such as hydraulics and a subwoofer."

We're still not done. There's other stuff to buy and I swear it's disconcerting the amount of gear a baby needs -- washcloths, pacifiers, monitors, diapers (that's another post for another day), toys, blankets, stuffed animals, etc. I don't know if we have everything or not. The disconcerting feeling is that I know we can buy it later, but it's like we want to give our girl the best start possible, as opposed to my usual way of buying stuff ("Do we really need it? Can I live without it? Yes.").

I know I might be ripe for the baby marketing picking. That's why it's nice to have friends like Mike and Em who can say "You don't need that. That's stupid." or "You can get that cheaper elsewhere."

Now I understand why people buy minivans. It's not because they woke up one day and said, "You know what? I want a car that can hold a shitload of stuff and look as unsexy as possible. I want a minivan!" No, you buy a minivan for all the stuff a baby requires, as well as the road crew needed to haul it all.

Yes, we'll have the registry up eventually -- once it's perfected. Eventually. Why the hell are procrastinators like us having babies?

I now understand why babies love yoga balls...

It reminds them of how they love to bounce on their mother's bladders.

The second trimester was pretty nice -- the wee one moved around a lot and bounced happily, while I managed to sleep well and still had energy to take care of everything that I needed to.

Now, as the second trimester fades into the rearview mirror and the third trimester takes over, I'm feeling it. Exhaustion, hormones and just general weirdness. During some nights, I've up every couple of hours to use the bathroom. The girl's not even born yet, and she's got me up every couple of hours. It's amazing how carrying something approximately the size of a basketball can suck the energy out of you.

Cripes. I'm tired just typing that. Getting stuff done is hard now because all I want to do is sleep. But I keep telling myself that if I break it off in chunks -- one load of laundry one day, cooking another day, I'll feel better.

Hell, I feel like an overachiever today just by cooking scrambled eggs for breakfast, doing a load of laundry and emptying the dishwasher. Getting the nursery cleaned out and ready for the kid may take a Herculean effort.

It's tempting to say that I want her out NOW, but I know better than that. We still have a nursery to get ready. And as I was telling Jeff, this is my version of baking -- she's got to stay in the oven for the right amount of time before she comes out golden brown and delicious.

Prime example of pregnesia

Pregnesia - the way pregnant women forget everything, sometimes even the fact that they were infertile.

Last week, I did a couple loads of laundry to have clean pants and clothes. I did two loads and thought I dried them all and folded them all. Well, I was about to do a load of wash today.

Bouncing downstairs, I opened up the laundry room and opened the washing machine. What do I see? A load from last week still in the washing machine. Damp. Smelling
mildewy.

Shit. I could've sworn that I put that load in the wash. Apparently I got distracted and the baby made me forget. Or at least I'm going to blame the kid right now because I got no other excuse.

And now for something completely different

With all the news about Maddie last week, I didn't feel like saying much about the results of the ultrasound we had about two weeks ago. Admittedly, I was more concerned about my niece, but now it feels right to tell the world:

Trogdor's a girl (or so all the indicators show). So we can give her a real name now:

Trogdora the Explorer.

Kidding!

It's like popcorn popping

Today, as I drove to work, Trogdor made his/her presence known (or was attempting to build a new wing to my uterus). Baby books often describe it as feeling like butterflies, but to me, it feels like popcorn popping. Just little staccato movements that kind of bounce. It's crazy, to say the least.

In other pregnancy news, the ultrasound is this week. Hopefully, if Trogdor's cooperative, the kid's hands won't obscure whether or not it's a boy or a girl. People have asked whether or not we want a boy or a girl, and in all honestly, I don't have a preference.

There's pros and cons to both. I think that a girl would be easy for me to identify with, up until they hit teenage years and have to deal with that insane passive aggressive bullshit that girls sometimes do. Not to mention, with a baby girl, there's a lot of pink in clothing -- as well as the future of trying to police the skanky teen wear.

With a boy, it'd be more rambunctious and I have a horrifying feeling that the housing repair bill may skyrocket (especially if Mike and Em's son and ours begin wreaking havoc like half of the stories that Jeff's told me about him and Mike). Not to mention, boys are completely foreign to me, since I grew up in an all female-household.

But I guess that no matter what, I just want my baby to be healthy, be it boy or girl.

But if it's a girl, I hope that we don't get so much pink that she looks like she got hosed down in Pepto Bismol.

For hipster mothers everywhere who don't want Baby Einstein music

Proof positive that most people my age are spawning and trying to be hip parents. Instead of offering The Wiggles, or even *shudder* Barney, there's hope that the adults won't be tortured with shitty music.

Now you can expose your kids to your musical tastes -- be it the Ramones, Radiohead, U2 or Metallica, thanks to Baby Rock Records. Apparently they take music from your favorite rock bands and make it into something that can be played in the nursery as the wee one sleeps.

There's nothing like hearing Head Like a Hole, Master of Puppets, or Karma Police on a glockenspiel to make your mind go "Huh?"

Admittedly, the U2 fangirl in me is really tempted to buy the U2 record for the baby, but I'd really need to balance it out with something Jeff would like -- maybe the Led Zepplin one, since they don't have a Rush CD yet.

Names we have considered for the wee one: Part 2*

Subutai
Wladyslaw
Olidammara
Elminster
Zod
Chet
Chip
Snorri
Boleslaw
Kahnzada Shidadai
Orda the Merciless
Aradai the Wrathful
Batu

* I feel the need to say that Jeff's been playing a lot of Medieval II: Total War, hence the name decisions.

Second trimester observations

1. Given how much eating and snacking I do, I'm starting to wonder if I'm pregnant or a hobbit. Breakfast is cereal, second breakfast is crackers and cheese, lunch is huge, tea time is more crackers and fruit, supper is also huge and then there's dessert.

2. As for my belly, now that people know, I've gotten one poke in the tummy to see if that was the baby. Nope. The belly is all me. But I still keep rubbing it and holding it as if it was the baby, and not me. As I showered this morning, I wondered if the wee one could hear the water, like the sound of rain on rooftops.

3. My boobs are changing -- they're not bigger, but they're denser and (TMI ALERT!) my nipples are getting huge. I've never really seen them as a sexual thing, but now, I'm really starting to see them more as a milk machine. When I see footage of a dog with a litter of puppies suckling, I can't help but notice how tired the mama looks. I have a sinking feeling that's what I'm going to look like when Troggie shows up.

Warning: Contents of uterus inversely proportional to my sanity*

One advantage to being pregnant is that you don't have your period. However, your hormones take over and run rampant like a PMS trip that doesn't end because there's no bleeding to bring you back to earth.

I got a close look at the hormonal insanity last night as the reality of having a baby and family seeped into my mind. In a few months, any spontaneity will go out the window as a little one demands my attention, vigilance and care. While I know deep down it's worth it (please oh powers that be don't let my child be an emo-loving whiner), it still scares the shit out of me.

It's not like Jeff and I are spontaneous right now. But the option is going away -- while we've never run off for a spontaneous weekend together, that option won't even be on the table in a few months.

So yeah, I had a bit of a meltdown last night -- a hyperventilating, sobbing meltdown where my poor husband is trying to talk me down off the ledge. Which he did successfully.

And it's not just this -- a lot of things are making the tear ducts overflow. Listening to Sunday Bloody Sunday -- cue the waterworks. Watching a promo show for Ugly Betty -- I felt water coursing down my cheeks.

Good lord. This is going to be a long five months.

*Title stolen from this Queen of Wands webcomic.

Names we have considered for the wee one

Trogdor the Burninator
Slaxel (A cross between Slash and Axel)
Russell Simmon's Def Comedy Jam
Persephone
Justin Timberlake
Bono
The Edge
Geddy Lee
Lorna
Brangelina
Macho Man Randy Savage
Martini and Rossi (if twins)
Bartles and James (if twins)