Remember when I had my first baby boy three years ago? He was 9 pounds 6 ounces and 22.5 inches long when he was yanked into the world at 38 weeks. He was a big boy, got stuck coming out and left my lady parts feeling like a casualty of war. A couple of weeks ago I went to girlfriends for a regular check-up and, upon completing her routine measuring of my voluptuous bump, she determined I was measuring a solid 3 weeks ahead of where I should. It’s one thing to measure ahead when you’re 38 weeks, but I was 33 weeks measuring a little over 36…(insert stunned/panicky face and Vietnam Flashbacks of John’s delivery). She ordered a growth sonogram to get a better idea of exactly what we were dealing with. The day of the sonogram was, um, entertaining. Red wanted to come with me since he hasn’t really been able to go to any appointments and we knew we were going to get to see Beau and that’s always exciting, regardless of whether you can actually decipher the blobs on the screen…Red found the penis, he knew that shape.
Sonographer: “Ok and here’s a foot and toes, and thats his knee..”
Red: “Boom! That’s his crank. Right that’s his crank?”
Sonographer: “Yes, Mr Memmer, that’s his penis.”
Red: “Damn son. Well that’s a Memmer for ya. Putting it out there like a boss.”
Me: “Honey it’s like the size of a small olive right now…could you not talk about our unborn son’s junk?”
Red: “I’m just saying…”
Me: “Can we see the heartbeat again?”
Red also pointed out all the beat down dudes who were being drug with their wives to pre-natal appointments. This specimen, the ‘baby daddy’, is an interesting study in human behavior. Red and I began our observations in the sonography suite and continued it as we were waiting on Girlfriend following the sonogram. Each and everyone, to the person, were starring at their phone trying like hell not to make eye contact with anyone like Indiana Jones when the Nazi’s opened the ark. Phone or the floor, those were the only acceptable options. They shifted uncomfortably, often pulling at pant legs, leaning back in their seats or lifting up for a second before returning to their original position. Red thinks this is a learned behavior for males adjusting to captivity. A very pregnant lady made her way through the packed waiting room accidentally making contact with one of the dad’s legs and his reaction was similar to that of accidentally touching boiling water. It’s not contagious, but the way he jumped would make you think he was scared of catching ‘pregnancy’. Still no eye contact and a full two minutes before he adjusted back to his previous seated position.
Aside from Baby Daddies we also caught a show in parenting that would make The Nanny take Xanax. A very young woman brought her baby daddy and her toddler daughter to her appointment on this particular morning. From what we could all gather she was not happy with either of them and was not afraid to display this contempt through multiple outbursts to the poor schmuck and ‘disciplining’ her young daughter for breathing and other annoying habits. It felt like we were being forced to watch the breakdown of American society one slang phrase at a time. Suddenly an elderly woman stood up and caught the attention of the whole room with her presence. She was so elegant, well dressed and held herself with such esteem…I loved her in an instant. She glided over to the young mother and asked/told her to accompany her into the hallway, immediately. As soon as the door shut I caught the eyes of the elderly woman’s daughter, who was still sitting on the couch.
“What’s she going to do?” I asked the daughter. It may have seem like a forward question but the scene was so obvious to everyone it was what we were all wondering.
“She’s going to set that girl straight. She does it all the time. I’ve tried to stop her but I learned a long time ago that there’s no point in trying.” the daughter explained.
“Is she going to be ok?” I was worried that she might not be met with gratitude (call it a hunch).
“She’s in her seventies and she’s made it this far. Trust me she’s fine.” the daughter said with a knowing laugh.
I loved what was happening!! I was called back before I got to see the end of what was playing out. Bummer! How cool is this though? I was inspired to start taking action when I see social injustices in my life. Red must have known what was going on in my mind because as we were walking back to the exam room he whispered to me “Honey I don’t have the bail money for you to start telling people to shape up, don’t even think about it.” The man has a point, but I’m still inspired to speak out when I see a child being mistreated. I’ll find the bail money for that.
Just a few days ago I was in for another checkup (we are on weeklies now) and was 36 weeks measuring 40. She estimates the baby is probably 8 lbs. After a quick check in she also noted that I’m neither dilated nor effaced one iota. I must have let out an audible Yak-moan because she got super serious and we started talking about the next few weeks. We re-hashed John’s birth and talked about C-Section verses natural labor. I told her, and y’all are going to think I’m lying, that I wanted to try to give birth naturally. I don’t want a C-Section. I know women in Hollywood get them scheduled in advance and they prefer that option to going all Beaches-of-Normandy on Lady Town, but for whatever reason the idea of being cut open and having to recover from that while pulling my soon-to-be 3 year old down from the ceiling fans frightens me. I can barely get him down now, let alone with stitches. She told me that we were inducing at 39 weeks, no matter what. If at that point she thinks Beau is under 10 lbs she’ll agree to let me try to push him out. If he’s bigger than that or we can tell early on that he’s not descending into the birth canal then I have to have a cesarean. She and I are both hoping I’ll go into labor at 38 weeks like I did with Johnny. Y’all remember how that happened? Yup. Castor Oil!! So I told her with all transparency that I intended to wait until the day “38 weeks” rolled around and I was taking the devil’s drink! She is totally on board and reminded me in a very frank voice to stay local and keep hydrated, lol.
I don’t want to come across as one of those psycho moms who tries to go into labor before it’s ‘time’. I very much want Beau to cook for as long as possible so he can be born a healthy, happy chunk with a fully developed everything. I remember John having to go to the NICU and that, even though it was only for a couple of hours, was torture. Girlfriend said it wasn’t because he was a premie, they’re actually considered full term at 37 weeks, but rather because he was a “big guy who just needed some help transitioning.” I want Beau to get here when HE’S ready, but I would also like that to match up with when I’M ready. It’s all in God’s time anyway, there’s no point in trying to control too much of it.
In the meantime I’ve been trying to get John ready for his baby brother. I think I’ve convinced him to stop shooting things into the crib like a basketball hoop, and he’s almost over trying to fit in the bouncy chair. He still considers the Pack’n Play a jungle gym. We’ll keep working on that. I set all that stuff out a few weeks early so I could talk to John about where Beau will sleep and how we’re going to take care of him together. We ‘practice’ loving on the baby and putting him in the crib or swing. Just when I think he is catching on I look over to find the Pack’N Play upended and John sitting under it in his ‘cave’. I think John will need as much watchful care as the newborn.
I go back in this week for another check on the baby. Hopefully things will go down on or around Nov 1. That’s 38 weeks and I happen to know Girlfriend is on-call at the hospital that weekend (wink wink). Also Red let me know that time fit his schedule as well (thoughtful isn’t he?).
John’s birthday is coming up in just a few days! I’m going to have a three year old little man…it’s heartbreaking how adorable he is. He is such an angel child…BUT I think I’m starting to see what everyone has been telling me. The threes are definitely going to be harder than the twos. Yesterday he told me to “Calm down, lady.” And why do boys start to think Daddy is a super hero at this age? Aren’t they supposed to stay mommas baby? This year with a newborn and a sass-mouth, wild ass daddy’s boy will be interesting…it could be the comeuppance mine and Red’s parents have been warning us about 🙂