The Admonition Paradox

Thank you for joining us once again.

Before we begin today's post, I'd like to wish you all a very Merry Christmas, or whatever religious holiday you may choose (or not) to celebrate.  I'd also like to thank those of you who read our story, and join us on our adventure to parenthood.

I know I keep promising more frequent updates, and I haven't delivered on that promise.  That said, I will no longer promise more frequent updates, just that I will update when I can.

Onto the topic of today:

The Admonition Paradox:

One thing that I've discovered (although, unsurprisingly), in our short journey thus far, is that no matter whether or not a person has children of their own, they'll never hesitate to give you unsolicited advice.

I like to consider myself a curious individual, and I gain tremendous joy out of obtaining any and all relevant information that I can on a subject.  However, some of the advice that Mrs. J and I have received to date is absolutely dumbfounding.

For instance, we were out shopping for some of our first gender specific baby clothing at the local Wal-Mart, and during checkout, I was ... enlightened, by our cashier, to all of the dangers in vaccinating children. I also recognize that although I fully support the large majority of the medical professionals' opinions that we should vaccinate our children, that the topic is somewhat of a "hot-button" topic.  I get it.

However, the cashier put it very matter-of-factly, that if we vaccinate our child, that they'll become autistic.  Not that there's a chance.  But that it will happen.  So, having done a bit of research (hardly enough to be an expert on the matter), I asked her what experience or evidence she was drawing such a statement on.  Her reply made my jaw drop, "Oh, well, I don't have kids of my own, but I watched this big long TV special on it a while back, and the evidence is pretty undeniable."

Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I've a very sharp tongue, and am usually pretty venomous with it when I feel that the situation calls for it (or sometimes even when it doesn't).  But, being that we were in public, I bit my tongue, and just wished the woman a good night.

However, this set me to thinking.

Up until now, I've been very receiving when it comes to parenting advice.  Because, let's face it, this is our first child, and I'm in no position to deny it.  Although, there comes a point that even as an inexperienced parent-to-be, you learn to discern good advice from bad advice.

What bothers me the most about it all, is that if you question any advice, regardless of its merit, the person who gave it to you (whether asked or not to provide it), immediately goes on the defensive, and assumes you're being a jerk about it.  Perhaps there's a social convention that I'm unaware of, or some mannerism I've displayed to these people that triggers this response, but I look at it as simply asking for a deeper explanation.  Just because I question the way you tell me I "need to feed my child," or ask why, doesn't mean I'm discrediting your opinion.  It means that I want some additional information to support your statement.  I've never been one to blindly follow the words of others, and I pride myself on that.  I like to gather as much information as I can, and draw my own, somewhat educated opinion on the subject.  But, in spite of that, when it comes to parenting advice, it seems that asking "Why?" is akin to telling that person that their spouse is ugly.

This particular issue also has the potential to create a very serious awkwardness in your social relationships, as I've come to learn.  As I've mentioned before, some of our friends are expecting parents, and I've also noticed that even though they have no prior parenting skills, they've no shortage of worldly advice to offer.  For instance, an expectant mother that we are friends with made it no secret that she thought breastfeeding was disgusting, and a method of nutrition fit only for peasants.  Knowing that Mrs. J intends to breastfeed postpartum, this made for an awkward conversation.  This friend didn't go as far as to berate her decision, but wasn't quiet about her disgust for the activity, and that she "couldn't understand why anyone would do that to their child."  When I presented her with some widely supported benefits of breastfeeding vs. formula feeding, I wasn't met with intellectual discussion, but a simple, "Well, you can't believe everything you read."

The point is fair, but how else are we to learn, if we aren't to read?  If everyone in the world raised their children simply off of wives' tales, and word of mouth, society would, I fear, be on the brink of extinction.

So, it seems that there's no shortage of advice to be had, but there is certainly a shortage of courtesy among some of the givers.  

I suppose that what I'm getting at is simply:

If you wish to offer advice, please know that it's appreciated.  However, don't get upset if someone asks "Why?" I know there's a great deal of people out there that will listen to every piece of advice they receive as if it's gospel, but there's just as many of us out there who seek to understand, rather than just go with it.

Thanks again for reading, and we'll be back soon (hopefully).

-J

Our very own Christmas Miracle

Good evening, once again, readers.

I first want to preface this post with this:  I'm a jerk.  I promised you all more frequent updates, and haven't delivered on that promise.  For that, I apologize.  Unfortunately, life has a way of distracting you from the things you'd like to do, in lieu of the things you need to do.  Work has been consuming my free time - retail's a mean one, especially this time of the year.

With that said, I hope that you all had a very, very happy Thanksgiving, and were able to spend it with your loved ones.

This evening, I'll be sharing with all of your the story of Mrs J. and I's very own Christmas miracle.

Today we had our monthly visit with Mrs. J's OB, and went in expecting just a very quick, very basic visit, as her practice only technically perform's 3 ultrasounds during the course of a normal pregnancy, unless it's medically necessary for more frequent scans.

As you may recall, our previous visit was unable to provide an audible heartbeat due to complications with the good doctor's equipment.  We were only able to see it via ultrasound, which was equally satisfactory to us.  This visit, however, was able to produce a very strong, very audible heartbeat with the baby Doppler.  It was by far one of the coolest things I've ever heard.  By the time the nurse shut the machine off, both Mrs. J and I were grinning from ear to ear.

The doctor came in to wrap up as usual, providing this month's lab slips, and to make sure we were question-free.  As we were getting ready to leave, she asked us the burning question, "So, are you two planning on taking a peek at the gender and finding out what you're having?"

Now, anyone who knows me, knows that finding out the gender of our child has been what I've looked forward to most.  The downside, with Christmas right around the corner, was that our appointment schedule didn't quite line up with Christmas and finding out the gender of our baby.  So, I was honest with the doctor, "Yes. We were originally hoping to find out before Christmas, so that we could plan, but the timing just doesn't match up."

The response we got from the doctor: "Hm."  And she disappeared for a few minutes.

Upon her return, she told us, "Go ahead and go down the hall and wait on the bench, I'm going to sneak you in to get an advanced peek at the sex of your baby.  Merry Christmas."

It goes without saying, Mrs. J and I were elated at the thought, and almost didn't believe it was going to happen.  But, we did as instructed, and went down the hall to visit the office ultrasound tech.  She called us in, and set straight to work.

The whole process took about 15 minutes, because our little Bean wasn't cooperating.  In fact, the kid even gave the tech the finger (yes, really).  So, I sat and watched as the technician jiggled away at Mrs. J's belly, in an effort to get the bugger to move to a peek-worthy position. Lot's of  "Hm's,' and "c'mon's" were heard throughout. Just before the session concluded, I'd almost given up on the notion that we'd be finding out the gender of our little one.  That is, until the technician proudly proclaimed, "Yep! That's definitely a penis."

So, ladies and gentlemen, we've officially joined Team Blue.  We're having a boy!

It may not seem like much of a miracle, but it takes someone very special to do what our doctor did for us today.  She didn't have to make special accommodations for us, but she did - without us asking, just because she could.

I've written doctors off for most of my adult life - I've never had a doctor who seemed to only care about me as a patient, and have always felt like a number to the doctors I've seen.  And even though she isn't my doctor, Dr. K has certainly restored some of my faith in the community of medical professionals.

Truth be told, the only thing I wanted for Christmas this year, was to find out the gender of our baby.  Not because it's that important, but because it's such a milestone.  To give him (or her, at the time) a name, and start to plan a little bit better.  Dr. K made that wish come true for both of us.  Our parents were equally eager to discover if they were having a grandson or a granddaughter, and so by extension, we were able to make their wish come true this evening, as well.

I certainly hope that you and your families have a Merry Christmas, and that you'll join us next time.

Happy Holidays, everyone.

-J

Wait, you want a what?

As promised, tonight you all get two posts. That's right. Two.

A few months ago, I was on the internet, and landed upon a story from a woman who was just furious because she didn't receive a "push present," from her husband when she gave birth.  Not knowing what a "push present,"was, I put my Google-fu to use, and did some digging.

I was absolutely blown away by what I discovered.  For those of you who don't know what it is, a "push present," is a gift that is given to a fresh-out-of-labor mother by her spouse or significant other.  And by gift, I don't mean a bouquet of flowers, or a stuffed animal - we're talking birthday/Christmas grade presents.  In the case of the post that I originally landed on, a Gucci handbag.  The woman who authored the post was absolutely frenzied because her "inconsiderate, and selfish," husband did not buy her the Gucci bag she had been eyeing since before she gave birth.

Naturally, my reaction when I began reading through this was laughter.  "How can she be serious?" I thought to myself.  But then I kept reading, and realized she was 100% deadly serious.  My reaction quickly went from humor to shock.

Once I finished reading this blog post, I called Mrs. J to ask her if she'd ever heard of a "push present."  When she told me she hadn't, she asked me to explain it to her.  So I did.  Upon the end of my explanation, I was met with a chuckle, and a very direct, "That's dumb.  Why would I want an expensive purse? I have expensive purses, and I'm getting a baby!"  Once I hung up the phone, I was awash with relief, "Good, I'm not crazy." I thought to myself.  Then, being the type of person who is always seeking to learn and understand, I did some more digging.  I perused Reddit about the topic, various blog-sites, and even a few mommy discussion groups.  That's when I realized that these "push presents," are more and more common, and fairly mainstream in today's society.  I think, anyway.  Being that I don't have a large sample to poll about the subject, I'll continue to rely on my internet findings. In-fact, I found several large and heated discussions on the internet taking place between pro-push present moms, and anti-push present moms.  Many women on the internet share the same views as Mrs. J and I, and think they're a ridiculous and outlandish idea.  However, just as many women vapidly defend the concept, and feel that all men should participate in this gift-giving event.

I don't want anyone to read this, and think that I'm of the mindset that childbirth is a walk in the park, or that it's a comfortable experience.  I can only imagine the pain that a woman endures whilst giving birth, or even during gestation.  I do, however, think that it's quite ridiculous to expect expensive gifts for giving birth to your child.  I believe that both you and your partner are receiving the ultimate gift - life.  The joy that your little ball of light is going to bring and enrich your life with is more of a gift than money could ever provide.

On the other side of the coin, that I don't think many women think about (hell, that I don't think anyone really thinks about), is what dad feels through the whole process.  While expecting fathers certainly don't go through the physical discomfort of carrying a child, or the pain involved with popping the little tyke out, pregnancy is hardly a trip to Disneyland for us, either.  Whether it be irrational emotional outbursts, midnight runs to the grocery store for unfathomable cravings, or any number of other pregnancy-related events, it's not easy for us. Anyway, I'm getting off track - the point I'm trying to make is, you don't see dad's-to-be expecting a new flatscreen for doing our part during all of this.  We're expected to do it, and better damn well do it with a smile on our faces.

And if you are a dad-to-be, and expect a new flatscreen for doing what's expected of you - you're an asshole (pardon my language), and have no business taking care of anyone, let alone a child.  As partners in the journey, we're expected to take care of mom, and that baby when he or she arrives.

I look at it this way, and maybe it makes me sound like kind of an ass, but women for thousands of years have given birth without expecting presents.  Why is this all of a sudden a thing?

I do realize that there's a good chance that some of the parents to be that may end up here on this blog may be pro-push present.  If that's the case, you're probably pissed.  But, until someone can present a reasonable argument in favor of push presents and convince me otherwise, I just can't see how anyone could justifiably expect one.

Hopefully I've not incited any flame-wars anywhere, or angered any of our readers, and in trying to avoid that, I'm going to end this post here.

Good evening, all, and I'll see you next time.

Preparation complete?

Thanks again for joining us.  Tonight's going to be kind of exciting - we've got two posts for this evening!

Rather than mash them all into one giant wall of text, I'm breaking it up into two separate posts, so that if one doesn't interest you, you can quickly jump to the other one.

On with the show!

Preparation Level: Complete! (Almost).

As time continues to fly on, Mrs. J has hit almost 17 weeks of our little adventure.  Hard to believe that we're almost halfway there. For anyone who is just joining us, or who doesn't know me:  I'm a very rigid individual.  You could almost go as far to say I'm kind of a control freak, and I like to have order in my life.  With that said, since we've found out that Mrs. J is pregnant, I've been trying to do everything in my power to be as prepared as possible for what's to come.

Too often do you read stories, or see features on the news about new parents who are so oblivious as to what's involved with having a baby, you'd almost think they didn't know they were having a baby until the kid pops out.  We don't want to be those parents. So, as we've been on our adventure, I've been trying to buy as much of what we need as we can afford, and any time there's extra or unexpected money, I've been trying to funnel those resources into preparation for our little one to arrive.

This has also been a source of much turbulence among some of our expecting friends, coworkers, and us.

In our social circle, there are many other expecting mothers, and so obviously, a common topic of conversation is what goes into preparing for a child.  Thinking about that, a frequent point of tension in this social circle is how prepared Mrs. J and I are, versus how prepared our expectant friends are.  A common question that we get from our friends is, "Why are you spending all of this money? That's what baby showers are for."  Or an even more common statement, one of very few in this world that make me cringe, "Oh, it must be nice."

I've never felt it necessary to justify our actions to our friends, but I'll show my work here:

Yes, baby showers are nice.  Sure, you get loads of free baby stuff, and the ladies spend the afternoon gossiping, eating, laughing, and having a good time.  However, I do not feel that expecting parents should put the burden of large, or expensive baby items on friends and family.  I've always viewed baby showers, and after discussion, Mrs. J shares this view, as a way to get together with friends, get some small essential items for your little one, and have a good time.  I feel that the weight of those large baby-related purchases should fall upon the expectant parents, and should the need arise, you can then reach out to friends and family to assist if necessary.  I think that it's an unfair, and unrealistic expectation to think that you'll finish furnishing your nursery by means of your friends and family.

The other caveat of a successful baby shower (success being measured in turnout) is a large social circle to draw upon for attendance.  This is certainly a luxury that Mrs. J and I do not have.  We can count on two hands the number of people we, at this point, feel comfortable inviting into our home.  As it stands, her baby shower will consist of family, a small number of coworkers, and a few close friends.

With all of this said, Mrs. J and I have been funneling the largest part of our expendable income into preparing for our child, and I feel great about it. We communicate regularly about the things we need, and have been slowly purchasing all of the major items we will need.  Every time we make a trip to Wal-Mart, we buy a box or two of diapers.  The last two weeks of November, I put in a ton of overtime at work, and was able to purchase a new crib mattress and travel system.  And as of this past weekend, I truly feel that the majority of our preparations have been completed, barring clothing, which we're holding off until we find out the gender of our little one.  Once the gender determination is complete, then I'll begin setting up the nursery to coincide with that determination (blue/pink accents, wallpaper, etc.).

This preparation has caused what I can only presume is a moderate level of jealousy from those of our social group who cannot, or have not, prepared at all for what's to come.

If you've stuck with me for this long, and are still reading, I have one piece of advice for any other first time parents that may have come across this blog:

Communicate often, and prepare early.  The last thing anyone wants is to be caught off-guard in such a major life event.

A saga of doctors, holidays, and life at it's most hectic.

Good morning, everyone, and a belated Happy Thanksgiving.

The holidays are a hectic time for my wife and I in a normal year - we both work in retail, have families who care very much about us, and friends who are invaluable.  Throwing a baby in the mix increases the pace of the holidays by, oh, I don't know, say 7,000%?

The past two weeks have been very tumultuous for Mrs. J, and I, which has made it difficult for me to maintain this blog - for that, I apologize.  Now that another Black Friday is in the books (my 8th with the company I currently work for), hopefully things will normalize a bit, and I can get back on with regularly scheduled updates.

That being said, I have a feeling that this post is going to be quite a wall of text, so if  you don't have a few minutes, please come back when you do.  I apologize for the long winded post in advance, however there are a few things that I've been itching to share, and I'm going to throw them all into this post.

Another quick note - I'm presently running on about 18 hours without sleep, so I apologize in advance if any part of this is difficult to understand.

So we begin:

Our Dr. Jekyll, and Mr. Hyde:

Mrs. J and I were excited beyond belief when we discovered that she was pregnant.  For me, it was both an exciting discovery, and a relieving discovery all at the same time.  See, her body has had a tendency in the past to run a few days behind her, erm... "clock," if you will.  However, something seemed different about this time.  She'd never gone beyond about five days late, give or take a day or two.  However, the day she decided to test was a bit different - she was 9 days late and counting.  Both of us had been through a pretty rough day at work, so neither of us really wanted to deal with the possibilities at that point in time, but responsibility won out.

Being that we both work in the same place, many of my regular clients know my wife as such, rather than a fellow employee.  It happened that I was working with one of my long-time clients, and had to involve Mrs. J in the situation she was dealing with.  That very same client turned to Mrs. J and asked, "Oh! How far along are you?"  Keep in mind, at this point, we only had suspicions that she may be carrying a child, so Mrs. J was understandably a bit offended by the question, thinking that she had gained noticeable amounts of weight, or looked, er, "pregnant."  We both quickly staved off the question, assuring my client that there was no bun in the oven, which prompted a quick flush of the cheeks from my client, and causing her to quickly scurry off once her issue was resolved.  At this point, Mrs. J and I simply exchanged some puzzled looks, and both knew that it was time we actually had her take a test.  It couldn't just be a coincidence, right?

So, Mrs. J finished her shift several hours before I did, and moseyed over to Wal-Mart to pick up a pack of home pregnancy tests.  So, I waited, rather impatiently, for her to get home, and take a test.  And let me tell you, that was a fairly agonizing few hours, because I hate talking on the phone, and prefer texts.  Partner that with the forgetfulness that Mrs. J is prone to, and it's a recipe for disaster.  After about 3 hours, I found myself hammering out text messages, getting shorter and shorter in length, quickly dissolving from "Are you pregnant?" to simply, "Pregnant?"  No response came.

Mrs. J and I have been together for almost a decade, so I know that when she doesn't respond to a text, that one of three things has happened:
-She's fallen asleep.
-She doesn't think a text message is suitable for that conversation, or doesn't want to give an answer.
-She's left me to elope with a Colombian drug kingpin.  (Only kidding!)

At that point, I pretty much had my answer, but waited until we were together to see it for myself.

That's when the panic set in.

You may be asking yourself, "Panic? But why?!"  And truth be told, that's a pretty fair question.  Not panic in a negative sense, where we've experience a prior loss, or didn't want it to happen.  In fact, quite the opposite:  We were absolutely thrilled.  However, Mrs. J has had some prior issues with infected calcium-based kidney stones (sorry, I forget the doctor-ese version of the name), and was told that in the event of a positive pregnancy test, she needs to be seen immediately to be placed on the proper prenatal vitamins, and to make sure that the stones don't come back.

Fast forward to the next day, when our holy nightmare began.

Mrs. J spent the following morning calling around to just about every OB/GYN's office in our area.  None of which were willing to see her until we were 10 weeks out from her LMP (last menstrual period).  This prompted a lot of swearing on my end, and a lot of frustration on her end.  She was simply trying to follow her urologists' orders, and none of the offices in the area were willing to hear anything about it.

Queue a panicked phone call to my mother, who has a particular dislike for doctors of any variety.  Once we explained the situation to her, I'm assuming she made some rather unpleasant phone calls to our most local office, because they promptly called my wife back, and told her they'd squeezed her in for the following Wednesday.  Now, that's better... Or so we thought.

We arrived at our first appointment at the crack of dawn, approximately 0730.  Once her paperwork was complete, they rushed her right back to the ultrasound machine, and began probing away.  This was the first stop on the nightmarish bus ride.  The ultrasound tech had the audacity to say, "You know, this is just stupid. I have no idea why we're seeing you this early."  Now, I already do pretty poorly with social situations to begin with, partner that up with an early morning, and already being agitated with this office, and I wanted to scream.  I managed to withhold my rage, and respond in kind with, "Well, we're just doing what her doctor told her to.  Sorry if that's an inconvenience."  This response garnered a pretty targeted look of daggers in my general direction, and silence for the rest of the probing.

After the ultrasound was complete, we were shoo'ed off to the doctor's exam room, where we waited 45 minutes for her to show up to our appointment.  I'm fully aware that doctors offices tend to run behind, but this was ridiculous.

The minute that the OB stepped into the room, she started in on Mrs. J. 
"When was your LMP?"
-According to the calendar, about 5 weeks, 2 days ago.
"Well, then this pregnancy is most likely ectopic." (WTF?)
-W-what?
"Your uterine lining is thickening up nicely, like it's expecting a yolk sac, but there just isn't one there.  So, if your period was really that long ago, this is not going to be a viable pregnancy." (W...T...F....?)

By this point, my blood was boiling, as Mrs J. was already in tears.
"Why are you even here if your period was only 5 weeks ago?"
-Mrs. J explains the whole story over again.
"Well, that's ridiculous. I've never heard of such a thing. In fact, no prenatal vitamins contain dangerous levels of calcium.  What's your doctor thinking?"

This was when I felt that I had no choice but to intervene, and redirect the conversation to being just she and I.  I began with the typical questions, "Are you sure? Because her urologist felt very strongly about the subject, and insisted that she be seen on her first positive result."  She responded with medical gibberish that I can't begin to comprehend, but I was pissed.

To make a long story fairly short, she ordered a blood-draw to measure her hCG levels over a 48 hour period.  Research on the internet showed this to be a pretty common procedure, especially when nothing is present on an ultrasound.  Those 48 hours were an absolute nightmare.  The doctor promised to call Mrs. J back as soon as the blood results were in, and even ordered them "stat" to ensure they'd arrive before close of business.

Big surprise: she didn't call.  Mrs. J had to call her, and leave a message, only to receive a call back from the doctor's nurse.  "WHAT DID SHE SAY?!" You're probably shouting that to yourself (or at least, my 2:00AM brain hopes you shouted that out loud).

Everything was perfectly fine. The hCG levels grew as necessary, and determined that it was just too early for anything to be visible on the ultrasound.  See you in three weeks.

Mrs. J and I were, in my opinion, justifiably angry, distraught, and upset with how blunt, and frankly, downright rude the doctor had been during this appointment.  I did, however, appeal to the logical side of my wife:  She was being a doctor.  She was telling it as she saw it, and not beating around the bush.  On the other side of that coin, though, she could've been way more tactful about the delivery.

We went back and forth on whether or not to see her a second time, or to switch doctors.  Ultimately, we decided to give her one more chance.  And pardon my French, but that was a huge fucking mistake.  She was just as bad, if not worse the second time through.  At 7 weeks, we saw our little Bean (thus where the nickname arose), and everything looked fine.  Only, she was a raging snatch the entire time we had our visit with her.

Mrs. J went through the typical questions with her, "What can I eat?  What should I avoid?" and so on.  To these questions, the doctor only responded with other questions, and tore apart my wife's current way of living.  Here's a sample:

"What do you eat for breakfast?"
-Usually a Pop-Tart, or a bowl of cereal.
"Pop-Tarts? No.  There's nothing good about eating a Pop-Tart.  You need to eat cereal.  Stay away from white bread - wheat only." (Keep in mind, Mrs. J is mildly allergic to wheat bread, you know, causing her throat to close up.)

She then starts firing off a myriad of do's-and-don'ts, and we're both listening fairly intently.  But, the good doctor decided it was necessary to stop mid-sentence, glare at me, and tell me, "You need to be writing this stuff down."
Now, if you don't know me, I respond to situations like this (uncomfortable, or confrontational ones) in one of two ways:  Yelling/swearing, or sarcasm.

Being that it's a doctor's office, and I didn't want to get my wife blacklisted, I chose sarcasm, "And with what, pray-tell, do you expect me to write with? You've got the only pen in the room, and you're using it to point at nothing."  I'm assuming this was the appropriate response, because it got the woman to hand over her pen, and I didn't get Mrs. J blacklisted from the practice.

And I wrote.  And wrote.  Only to find out that it was pretty much pointless, because after the appointment, when we met with the birth planner, she gave us a big folder outlining basically everything that Dr. Asswad dictated.

You might be thinking to yourself, "But J, this doesn't sound that bad."  And thinking in retrospect, it may not have been as bad as I thought, but the big issue was that she wouldn't speak to me directly, other than to be rude.  If I'd ask a question, she'd respond to my wife instead.  If my wife asked a question, she'd speak down to her, and speak to her like she was five.  These are both pretty awful qualities in a doctor.

Then she started in on prenatal trisomy and genetic disorder screening.  Which she made a point to tell us repeatedly that insurance didn't cover, was very expensive, but she felt it was necessary.  I truthfully suspect that she's getting kickbacks or something, the way she tried to push these tests on Mrs. J and I.  Keep in mind, as well, that we'd already decided we would be doing the prenatal trisomy screenings, we just weren't sure what trimester we would do them in until we knew what our insurance would cover.

Now, I'm getting tired, and you're probably getting bored, so I'm going to quit ranting about Hell-Doctor, and move on to our next visit, which I may have even covered in my last update:

Turns out, our insurance does cover 1st trimester screenings.  They cover it 100%.  And our kick-ass new doctor called in a favor to get us in that very day to have Mrs. J and Bean tested.


If you've taken the time to read through this wall of text, you're probably wondering why I brought all this up.

It's simple: to serve as a cautionary tale to anyone who may be newer to this than we are.  It's okay to see multiple doctors.  In fact, I encourage it.  There is such a thing as not being compatible with your doctor, which is exactly what happened with Mrs. J and I with our first doctor.  The woman was just too tactless, and far too matter-of-fact.  If there's one thing I've learned in all of the research I've done (and I've done a lot of it), it's that pregnancy is far from an exact science.  There are too many what-ifs involved for any OB/GYN to be matter-of-fact about much of anything.  There are exceptions, of course, but things like whether or not a pregnancy is ectopic should be determined by more than a cursory glance at a 4/5 week ultrasound.

I hope, that if you've come across this blog by random, that you learn from the missteps that Mrs. J and I have taken through our journey, as short as it's been.


More to come, later.  I need to sleep, and you're probably bored.

Good night.

A Tale of Two Cities, kind of...

Today was a long, and challenging day, for Mrs. J and I.

For anyone who comes across this blog, and doesn't know me, I manage retail.  As such, I had the pleasure of working a midnight release event for the latest Call of Duty video game.  It just so happens that this event fell on the night before our appointment, which equaled out to less than four hours of sleep for me.

Anyone who does know me, knows that I function very, very poorly on that little sleep.

However, in spite of that, I made sure that we made our 10:00 appointment with our new doctor.  Though Mrs. J was willing to reschedule, I felt that since it was a new doctor (our prior OB may as well have been the boogeyman for pregnant women), that we kept our appointment.

I'm sure glad we did.  Due to some misinformation from our previous doctor, we were told that our health insurance would not cover any form of first trimester chromosome defect screenings.  Apparently, that was false information.  Fortunately for us, though, that we found this out in the last week of her first trimester.  As such, our fabulous new doctor was able to call in and get our local(ish) perinatal group to squeeze us in.

Unfortunately for us, that perinatal group is about 40 minutes away.

Ah, I'm rambling...  Long story short, we had a minor heart attack in the office, as our medical group only normally does three total ultrasounds throughout the pregnancy: early pregnancy, anatomy scan/gender peek, and pre-delivery.  Otherwise, they normally just use their doppler machine to listen to the heartbeat between those.  For some reason, our new doctor was unable to pin down the heartbeat, and got nothing but static from her machine. Queue my panic attack.  Now, I'm not an overly emotional man, however I'm an eternal pessimist - as such, I immediately assumed the worst.  Luckily for me, this doctor moves quick.  She had her ultrasound machine in the room in a jiffy, and was able to see the heart beat via ultrasound, and determined that my wife has a "tilted uterus," which can make it almost impossible to hear a heartbeat unless the baby is in the perfect position.

So, in spite of a small-scale anxiety attack, we ended up with a new photo of our little Bean... Which, consequently, looks less like a bean, and more like an alien now.  However, I don't think that "Alien," is nearly as catchy of a nickname as "Bean," so we're going to stick with that.

After all was said and done, came the flu-shots.  Now, I've never really gotten vaccinations, short of a Tetanus shot after a small work injury a few years back.  I've got nothing against them, I've just never done them.  Mostly on account of the fact that hypodermic needles are one of the few things in this world that can turn me into a screaming five year old girl, but also that I've just never made them a priority.  However, in the interest of Mrs. J's health, and the health of our little one, I felt that I should man up, and stop being such a sissy.  Although, in truth, I did almost chicken out after reading through all of the short-term side effects of the Influenza vaccine. But, once I saw my pregnant wife take the shot like a champ, I figured I was kind of obligated to follow through with mine - my manliness was on the line.

Next stop:

The car dealership.

Now, you're probably asking yourself, "But J, I thought this was about doctor's appointments!"

And you're right, it is... mostly.  However, in light of the fact that I've been driving a mid-sized, front wheel drive luxury sedan, with a malfunctioning automatic rear passenger lock, and an interior size that was just not well suited for a baby... Or me, for that matter (another note for those who don't know me: I'm huge)... and being that my mom happens to work for the largest automotive group in our area, I had her put some feelers out for a more safe, and family friendly vehicle.

Also keep in mind, that I live in an area with absolutely unpredictable weather.  Some years it may snow an inch, some seasons it might snow 18 inches.  You can never tell from year to year, and while front-wheel drive vehicles do okay, a lot of times they don't... Unless you want to drop the cash on snow-tires, and in the case of my previous vehicle, it was serious cash, because the genius who designed it used an abnormal tire size.

That being said, we've been in the market (for some time now) for an all-wheel, or 4-wheel drive vehicle.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the hell out of my car, but let's face it: it was a Saturn. A damn nice Saturn, but it was a Saturn with some minor electrical problems (nothing serious, just interior bells and whistles).  Pair those up with the fact that it did awful in inclement weather. Now, bunch all of that up with the fact that Saturn is out of business, and it was losing more and more value by the day (well, maybe not the day, but at a much quicker rate than I could pay it off).  All of this just made it more and more of a priority to get our stuff together, and get into a car that was more suited for our growing needs.

I won't bore you with all of the details, but our options were extremely limited due to the depreciated value of our existing car.  Or so we thought.  We were shopping the used section with the saleswoman that my mom just raved about, and things were looking fairly bleak.  Until she came across what I can only assume to be a diamond in the rough.  In our travels, we discovered a vehicle that had just re-arrived on the lot after some minor repair work - a 2008 Cadillac SRX-4.  Now, I never thought I'd ever drive a Cadillac, not because I don't like them, but because they're generally pretty expensive.  Not knowing the cost, we looked at it anyway, and discovered that it was perfect.  Roomy in the back (and I mean room), and an absolute goldmine of cargo space.  Still skeptical, we asked for our saleswoman to get a price.

When she came back, we were shocked to discover that not only was the vehicle in our price range, but also very well kept, maintained, and even though it had higher mileage than what we were trading in, had a great extended warranty option available.  Once we found out all of these details, I had to drive it.  That's where I fell in love.  Just before pulling out of the parking lot at the dealership, I discovered a plethora of safety features that even the saleswoman was unaware that it had: backup sensors, OnStar, tilting mirrors in reverse, and front and side curtain airbags.  Both Mrs. J and I fell in love with it, and the one other option we were originally presented suddenly became not an option at all.


This step isn't one that I think a lot of new parents think about, but it's something that had been weighing very heavily on me for some time now.  No matter how I looked at it, our previous vehicle was becoming less and less of a realistic option as something to trust our family's safety and comfort to.  I tried to think it out, but just couldn't find a way to make it add up.


Now, if you've made it this far into the wall of text, I promise that I'm almost done for tonight.

Our Last Stop:

Perinatal Associates.  We arrived right on time to our appointment, which happened to fall right in the middle of our vehicle purchase.

Fortunately, they were very understanding of my need for punctuality, and let us take a brief pause to get there on time.  However, what I didn't know, was that my need for punctuality didn't apply to this appointment.  Mrs. J finished her paperwork approximately 5-10 minutes after our arrival, which we've found to be a pretty typical time frame for this sort of thing.  However, what we were not expecting, was to be kept waiting for almost an hour after our appointment time.  We were scheduled at 2:30, and Mrs. J didn't enter the exam room until almost 3:30.  Now, I'm fully aware that stuff happens - especially at a doctor's office.  However, that "stuff happens," mentality is difficult for a very hungry, and very pregnant woman to deal with.  Couple that with the stress of our snag at the car dealership, and I saw a look on my wife's face that I can say I've honestly only seen once or twice in our 9 years together - anger. Mrs. J doesn't get angry.  She just doesn't, and it's one of the most beautiful things about her: the innate ability to roll with any situation, and make the best of it, helps make her who she is.  When I see that look of absolute anger on her face, I know that stuff's about to get very unpleasant for whomever incited that anger.

Fortunately, she was able to keep her composure, but in speaking with her after the fact, it wasn't the time that upset her, more that the girls behind the glass were just laughing, eating their lunches, chit-chatting away, without so much as an acknowledgement of the doctor's tardiness, or some indication that they were aware of our plight, and were trying to get us in.  The staffers at the office chose to ignore both of us, and go about their day.

Come to find out, after speaking with the Doctor, the issue was the result of him needing to spend some extra time with a patient that had issues arise with their testing, and it taking longer than he expected.

No problem dude, stuff happens... But it'd be nice if you teach your staff some common courtesy.

Once seated and comfortable, we watched the Doctor do his thing.  He wasn't a very talkative man, but I don't suppose he needs to be.  Honestly, I was too busy with my jaw on the floor, watching our little one bounce around and turn circles.  The little bugger even mooned us once or twice.

Unfortunately, at this point, we won't know the results of our testing until next week, but I think we'll make it through.  Our doctor was pretty reassuring prior to the appointment, and I think that'll get us through.


Thanks for joining us again, and I apologize if this post dragged - I'm going to use my lack of sleep to excuse it, or that the flu-shot I got earlier has been kicking my ass for the past several hours.  I get chatty when I'm tired... And pretty philosophical, or so I've been told.  However, I'll refrain from imparting my Voltaire-worthy anecdotes on you all this evening.

Until next time!

-J

Oh, the hunger!

Today we're going to talk about food.  Specifically, the quantity of which may be necessary for someone who's growing a person.

Being a dude, it's hard to truly wrap your head around a lot of the aspects of pregnancy.  One that I never really thought about much before this evening, is the astounding appetite that pregnant women can develop.

Sure, you see it on TV shows, hear relatives joke about it, but it never really clicks until you see it in action.

Over the past couple of weeks, I've gotten more and more used to the Mrs. finishing a meal, and saying, "I'm still hungry."  Up until tonight, I've usually just kind of chuckled, and offered up suggestions to supplement lunch or dinner.

However, this evening at work, we were eating dinner together (for those unfamiliar with us, we work for the same company), and we went to our local In-N-Out, as our pregnancy friendly options for take-out are pretty slim around where we work.

Now, I'm not exactly a skinny guy, so it's not unheard of, in-fact, it's usually expected that I order a lot of food.  However, what is unheard of, is for my wife to order a meal equal in size to what I order.  In fact, she normally can't finish a single burger and all of her fries.  Not only did she finish her meal, but afterwards said, "I'm still hungry... Can I have some of your fries?"

Anyway, where I'm going with this, was just how mind blowing this was.  Not because she ordered extra food, because we all have those moments where an extra side of fries might sound good, or an extra patty on your burger - but because it's happened so quickly. Our little bean must be growing so quickly!

You hear the phrase, "eating for two," very frequently when you're around someone pregnant, but it finally just clicked for me what that really means.  

As you can probably tell, I haven't been around many pregnant women for any extended length of time, so this is all brand new to me.  Needless to say, it's been awesome.

That's my bit for the evening.  Who knows, maybe the Mrs. will pop in later and add something else to entertain you all.

-Mr. J

What's in a name?

On this momentous evening, the Mrs. and I spent the majority of our evening watching President Obama win his re-election, but once that was all said and done, we moved on to an even more important (at least, to us) activity: Picking the name of our child.

Now, since it's so early, we obviously haven't the first inclination of whether we'll be having a boy or a girl.  If you're to believe the Chinese Gender Predictometer, as well as a number of old wives tales, we're to be blessed with a bouncing baby girl.  However, since I'm of the firm belief that these devices are 100% hokum, we've picked a name for both.

We're keeping our names under close guard, as to avoid any tomfoolery or name snatching from taking place by the people we know, and the people we don't.

However, I will say we had a blast picking our names.  We've toyed with baby names since long before we were blessed, but never actually decided on anything concrete.  My wife's grandmother was kind enough to send us an enormous book of over 100,000 baby names, and we got a kick out of flipping through the pages.  Many names in this book, I never realized existed, and many of them are names that you would never expect to be used as names.

As it is, prior to receiving this book, we had picked out a handful of names for either gender, but picked out a select few as we were flipping through the pages.  We lined out a list of around 10 names for a boy, and 10 names for a girl (girl names are tough, in case you've never been a dude and tried to think about girl names).

From there, we went through each list.  First we paired each name with our last name, and said them out loud a bunch of times, to figure out what fit, and what didn't fit.  Once we had narrowed down the list a bit, then we picked middle names (which is even more difficult than picking a first name, in my opinion).  Once we'd picked out middle names, we said all three together, and then crossed off which of those didn't fit.

This process actually worked quite well, better than I expected.  It allowed us to narrow down the list to exactly one name for each gender.  And as I said earlier, we plan on keeping them under lock and key (literally), until the day our child is born.  Until then, our child will continue to be lovingly referred to simply as "Bean."  (For those who are just joining us, we started calling our kid "Bean" the day we had our first ultra sound, as that's exactly what it looked like).

I feel accomplished tonight.  I'm pretty sure the Mrs. does, as well, but she's passed out on the couch currently, so I'm unable to verify.


So tonight marked a milestone for not just America, but for us well.

Until next time!

-Mr. J

Introducing...

Greetings, and welcome to our little slice of the internet!

Chances are, you may have stumbled upon us by accident, but hey, you're welcome to stay and read through our adventure.

A little backstory:

My wife and I recently found out that we are expecting our first child.  As of this past Sunday, she's currently 12 weeks along, and having the time of our life planning for our little one.  The challenges, the struggles, and the excitement.

We've set this blog up mostly for our family to keep up, as unfortunately, as much as everyone would like to, we can't talk to everyone every day.

It's not fancy, but it's not intended to be.  We're keeping it simple, for the sake of time and energy.

Frequency in updates may be questionable.  One of us will try to update as often as we possibly can, or whenever pertinent events occur, but who knows how often we'll be able to.

Stay tuned, and we hope you enjoy!