The life and times of an irrational father. One man, multiple personalities.
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His middle name is Neglect

August 12th, 2010 | Posted by Joe in irrational dad | joe | pregnancy | Sarah - (15 Comments)

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We knew, when Sarah was pregnant with Ty, that we wanted to have a second child. After Ty was born, we talked about it here and there, but mostly during light conversation. It wasn’t until around six months ago that the conversations became more detailed and the planning part began to take shape. After the decision was made – heck, even until, and while, we were “trying” – we never put any serious thought to life with multiple children. Then we got the blue line. That was when the figurative voice boomed through the figurative speakers in our home, “This sh** just got real!”

Where will Version2 sleep? Will I have to clear out the office and turn it into a bedroom? How will Tyler react and adjust? Et cetera ad infinitum.

I asked Sarah if she wanted me to take weekly belly pictures like we did with Ty. She gave me the typical look any loving wife gives her husband for asking a ridiculous question and said, “Of course I do.”

Then she took a sip of her (caffeinated) coffee. Coffee she wouldn’t drink while pregnant with Tyler. This is when *it* began. *It* being one of two things.

On my irrational days, *it* was the fact that this pregnancy isn’t the same because this is our second child. It’s not new, like the pregnancy with Ty was. We don’t care as much.

On my more level-headed days, *it* is the knowledge that we were FREAKS during the first pregnancy. Lay like this, sleep like that, no caffeine, no artificial sweeteners, DO YOUR KEGELS!!!! It was almost to a level of neurosis. Given the opportunity, I would have wrapped Sarah in bubble wrap and locked her in a nuclear fallout shelter until the end of the gestation period. How she stuck with our marriage during the torture I put her through is beyond me. Meanwhile, Ty was partying like a fetal rockstar, taking late-night fetal karate classes, and using Sarah’s bladder to practice for his first boxing match.

I know that I deeply care about this newly created life that is barely larger than the Lightening McQueen Hot Wheels car that Ty loves so much. But…

I’ve already missed the first two OB appointments and have had to admire my beautiful Version2 through printed ultrasound pictures that Sarah brought home. I remind myself that I had no choice due to some important work projects, and take solace in the fact that Ty was there to watch the “baby movie” with his mommy.

It has also occured to me that I’ll either need to delete over 90% of the pictures I have of Ty, or be prepared to take thousands of pictures of Version2. My friends and family would honestly murder me if I did the former, so I’ll get Version2 familiar with the sound of a shutter slamming shut on short order.

Rubbing Sarah’s belly a few mornings ago, nearing in on thirteen weeks pregnant, I said, “We need to start taking belly pictures soon.”

She heard what I didn’t say. That we are slackers. She lowered her head, mildly ashamed.

“His middle name is neglect.”

At the end of the day *it* is the knowledge that Tyler takes up a significant portion of our days now. All the time we sat and admired the growing life form in Sarah’s belly during her pregnancy with Tyler… that time simply doesn’t exist any longer. To feel like we’re neglecting the little one right now is, in and of itself, pretty irrational. I’m sure all parents of multiples went through – or are currently going through – similar thoughts and feelings.

But, we really need to start taking those belly pictures.

Some of my more keen readers may have noticed the word “his” while referring to Version2 a few paragraphs up. No, we do not know the sex of Version2. I find it highly impersonal referring to the baby as “it”, and I only use “Version2″ here on the site, so we refer to the baby as a unknown-gendered “he”.

The wait, the emotions

July 12th, 2010 | Posted by Joe in family | pregnancy - (25 Comments)
- 1 -

Date: Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Time: 5:45am

When the alarm went off, I opened my eyes, saddened. For the second night, Sarah hadn’t slept in the bed with me. With a sigh, I swung my legs off the bed and walked downstairs. Sarah slept soundly on the couch. I took a deep breath, continued my morning routine, and left for work an hour later.

 
- 2 -

Date: Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Time: 7:30am (approximate)

“Hello?”

Sarah’s voice answered through my phone’s speaker, “Hi.”

“Why’d you sleep downstairs again?”

I listened as Sarah explained. After some discussion, we both confirmed that we were still in love with one another, exchanged goodbyes, and disconnected the call.

 
- 3 -

Date: Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Time: 10:30am (approximate)

My phone rang three hours later. Sarah’s picture flashed onto the screen. I pressed the green button and waited for the tone in my headset to signal that the call was connected.

“Hi, honey,” she said.

“Hi, what’s up?”

“Well,” she started. I listened as she explained.

“How long?”

“A week,” she said.

Recalling her reasons for sleeping downstairs the night before, I replied, “Well, that would explain why you threw up last night.”

“Yeah, and why I felt like a furnace the night before that. So I was thinking about buying a pregnancy test when I go to the store today.”

 
- 4 -

Date: Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Time: 4:00pm (approximate)

She took the stick into the bathroom, while Tyler helped me in the kitchen with dinner; we were preparing corn on the cob and some meat for the grill. The instructions for the pregnancy test clearly stated to wait three minutes for a result. When Sarah returned from the bathroom, she set the timer on the microwave to three minutes and pressed the “Start” button. Over the course of the next 180 seconds, we caught each other sneaking into the bathroom to look for the blue line. We were simultaneously giddy and anxious for the results.

Ten minutes later, Sarah caught me sneaking into the bathroom again to look for the blue line we still had yet to see.

Barely loud enough for me to hear in the other room, Sarah said, “The instructions said not to trust it after fifteen minutes.”

I looked at the blank window on the stick for just a moment longer. I lowered my head, disappointed, then walked back to Sarah in the kitchen. My eyes flicked to the box for the pregnancy test. I picked it up and read the front of it.

“99.9% effective,” I mumbled, reading the box. Just about as accurate at detecting a pregnancy as a condom, birth control pill, or IUD is at preventing one. Sarah had her IUD removed two months ago, in the hopes of us adding one more to our family. We timed and planned it so that we wouldn’t have another summer baby. As much as we love, cherish, and adore Tyler, Sarah was miserable in the summer heat of her ninth month of pregnancy. You always hear of people that take pregnancy tests, scared of possibly getting a positive result, because the condom broke, or she forgot her pill “just that one time,” or from pure foolishness. We planned this; we wanted a positive result. A little more hopefully, I continued, “Maybe we’re the 0.1%.”

“Yeah, maybe. Even the test line didn’t turn blue.”

We then concoted myriad reasons we didn’t get a positive result, from the fact that she probably should have taken the test with her fist pee of the day, to maybe she held the stick crooked.

We decided to try the second test in the morning.

 
- 5 -

Date: Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Time: 7:00pm (approximate)

“I need to pee.”

It had only been a few hours, but I couldn’t resist. I told her to do it. So what if it was negative again? I’d just go buy another test for the morning. Damnit, I’ll just keep buying them until it gives us the answer we want!

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself. I was too hopeful for a positive, and too worried about a negative. I took another deep breath as the bathroom door opened.

“Three minutes, my ass! It lit blue in three SECONDS!”

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We high-fived and hugged and kissed each other.

Sarah asked, “Tyler, do you want to be a big brother?”

He answered without hesitation, “Yeah! Bruhver.”

 
- 6 -

We are overjoyed to announce that we are expecting our second child on, or around, February 15, 2011. As of the posting of this entry, we are nine weeks along.

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Well, if you won’t do it on your own…

June 26th, 2008 | Posted by Joe in induce | labor | pregnancy - (0 Comments)

Today finds me posting from DeKalb Memorial Hospital, with Sarah sleeping about 3 foot away from me. Luckily, I’ve calmed enough from this rollercoaster of a day to post a blog.

We had an appointment with our midwife today. We’re 7 days overdue. After an exam, we’re told that we’re (I say “we’re” but I mean “Sarah’s”) still only dilated by about a finger-tip width. What the heck is this boy waiting for, exactly?

Also, with being 7 days past our EDD, Sarah needed to take a non-stress test. With a non-stress test, a stretchy belt is wrapped around Sarah’s belly. Right on the belly is the fetal monitor (think of this as the belt buckle). It’s only purpose is to measure the baby’s heart rate. Within a 20 minute period, they need to see baby’s heart rate go up by at least 15 beats per minute (BPM), for at least 15 seconds. And they need this to happen 2 times.

After forty minutes, there were no times where his heart rate went up by 15bpm, let alone for 15 seconds.

Now, before I go any further, I have to jump off on a tangent… See, Delilah (my female boxer-mix pup), had a vet appointment today at 10am. She has had a pretty bad ear infection for a while, and I’ve been unsuccessful in eradicating it. As Sarah was getting hooked up to the fetal monitor, I ran home, grabbed Delilah, and took her to the vet. I’ve never felt so bad for her like I did today. She was scared, but still very happy, if that makes sense. She needed my comfort/protection. As the vet was examining her, she scooted up right against me and wouldn’t really relax until I held her in a hug. Poor girl.

Well, he looks at her ears and confirms that the infection (which smells horrible) goes all the way down into her inner ears. To clean it out, she has to go under anesthesia. She also had what I thought to be pimples on her face. I researched online, and they’re very common in pups her age, because they’re going through puberty. No lie. Doc says that they were papules (at least I believe that’s what he called them), and that they were infected… staph!!! Naturally, I’m worried. This is my baby girl!!! Then, to top it all off…. she’s got a heart murmur. WTF? I immediately flash to a thought of not having my Baby Delilah anymore. So sad. If you have a dog, you’ll understand. If not, you’ll probably just think I’m being all girly. But it scared the crap out of me.

Doc says not to worry unless she’s coughing, which she isn’t. He says to just keep an eye on her. What’s that even mean? I’m not a vet. What exactly am I supposed to be looking for?

So, I have to leave Baby D with the doc and shoot back over to our midwive’s office (Michelle).

Ok, we’re back to where I left off earlier…

40 minutes on the monitor, and baby’s heart isn’t doing what it’s supposed to. Michelle told Sarah (my wife) to get some food (since we both hadn’t eaten yet today), and come back at 1pm for another test.

Off to Bob Evans we go. We eat. And we talk. We’re both scared half to death, but we talked through things. Baby’s heart rate is good, but it’s just not jumping up as much as it should. After the initial shock of “OMG, Everything isn’t perfect” wore off, we weren’t worried at all. We then came up with a gameplan. Go home, pack up as if it’s time to have a baby, but don’t load it in the car, go back for the test, if it’s not good, Joe goes home to get all the crap and comes back.

But we weren’t really worried. Even Michelle wasn’t worried. This was just a safe measure we were taking. After we get food in Sarah’s belly, everything should be fine, right?

At 1pm, we head back and Sarah gets put back on the “machine”. After 20 minutes there was about 3 seconds that his heart rate went up to where it should have. So, we stayed on for another 20 minutes. In this last 20 minutes, I started talking to the baby, and his heart rate went up really good… and passed the test.

BUT, did he really pass the test? I mean, the truth is he had two instances of a passing heart rate over the course of about an hour and a half total. It just so happened that those two instances fell within a 20 minute period.

Sarah and I had another private discussion. We’re 7 days overdue, she’s barely dilated. Odds are that we’re going to have to be induced no matter what, because baby just isn’t dropping his head onto the cervix (which causes dilation and effacement). Do we wait and do more tests, knowing that we’re going to need to be induced at some point anyway, or do we just do the inevitable? It was a no-brainer for us. As much as we want a natural birth, baby has other plans, and we need to give him a kickstart.

So, Sarah was admitted to the hospital, and given a very low dose of Cytotec. This pill will soften the cervix, hasten dilation, and start weak contractions. She’s had two doses thus far, and will get her third in about another 30 minutes. She’s had quite a few (very weak) contractions. About half an hour ago, they got a little stronger. She’s actually starting to feel them now.

I’ve already gone home to get the car packed with all the stuff we need. Now we wait. Here’s the recap of our day:

9 – 11:30a : Appointment with midwife at hospital
11:30 – 12:30 : Breakfast at Bob Evans
12:30 – 1p : Pack up the stuff (just in case)
1 – 2p : Another test with midwife at hospital
2:30 – Present (11:13p) : Admitted to hospital

Naturally, I’m getting very stircrazy right now.

Once labor gets kickstarted with the Cytotec, we’re stopping all medical interventions (drugs) and going back to our birth plan, which is having a natural birth.

Will I Ever Be A Daddy?

June 25th, 2008 | Posted by Joe in baby | poison ivy | pregnancy - (1 Comments)

I’m sitting here on the couch, covered in poison ivy. I actually convinced myself that I was immune to the effects of poison ivy. It would appear that I was wrong. The desire to scratch (everywhere) is so strong, that I’m sure I wouldn’t feel satisfied until I had scratched every square inch of skin from my body.

I need to find a way to get my mind off the itchiness, because the cortisone cream isn’t doing a thing for me. So, I decided to set up a blog and write something. In a way, I guess I should be grateful for the poison ivy, because that’s what’s motivated me to set up an account here at Blogspot, or Blogger, or Google Blogs, or whatever this site is calling itself nowadays, but I’m not grateful at all.

As of today, Sarah is 40 weeks and 6 days pregnant. According to science, I should have a baby boy that is 6 days old right now, which would pretty much eliminate any time that I would have had to blog with. But, for whatever reason, the little guy doesn’t feel like coming out.

And here’s the funny thing… technically, everything is still normal. Sure, pregnancies are 40 weeks, but that’s according to science. The national average for the gestational period (I’ll try to limit how many large words I use, sorry) is actually 41 weeks and 3 days. That would mean that, if this were the most average pregnancy ever, my son isn’t due for another 4 days. I try to not mention this to Sarah too often, because she’s more-than-eager to get the little guy out. I don’t want to discourage her. No siree… I’ve learned that I must be very careful of what I say to a woman that’s got hormones on overdrive.

When Sarah first got pregnant, we never cared what the EDD was, because an EDD is an Estimated Due Date. Estimated. It’s guesswork based on your last menstruation (ewww… a boy talking about girl’s stuff). We knew that, so we told people that we were due around the middle to end of June. As the days got closer, though, I found myself counting down to her 40 week due date, June 19th. I would look at Sarah and say, “Our little man will be here in 14 days, 3 hours, 22 minutes, and 16 seconds.”

I was setting myself up for failure, and didn’t even know it. The sad thing is… I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN.

Every day that passes now – hell, every HOUR that passes now – I get more and more anxious about the birth of my son. I’m not having the doubts of being a father, I’m not obsessing about finances, I’m not freaking out at all. Normally, I think I would, but if I can’t change it, I have no choice but to accept it. I’m trying to do that. I’m anxious because I really want to see his face. I want to hold him. I want to kiss his delicious face (I have to give props to Sarah’s sister, Jillian, for that phrase). I feel that I’ve developed a strong bond to him while he’s been cooking in Sarah’s belly. He responds to my voice. We push on each other through her belly. We could potentially be really good friends. If he ever comes out, that is.

I swear, I’m almost done with this blog post, so bear with me just a bit longer.

One year ago, I didn’t care at all whether I had kids or not. If I had kids, fine. If I didn’t have kids, fine. I think, in my entire life (30 years), I’ve only held a baby 3 times. That’s no joke… ask anyone who knows. And I’ve NEVER changed a diaper. I don’t really know how to talk or act when I’m with/near babies/children. They made me uncomfortable. I was scared that I would traumatize them or, worse, break them. Now… I’m really starting to enjoy the few kids that are in my life. Our close friends’ (Melanie and Adam) son, Ben, is an example. My sister-in-law’s (the previously mentioned Jillian) daughters, Paige and Lexi, are another. I actually enjoy talking to them. I can’t wait to introduce them to little baby Gearhart. I can’t wait to introduce him to the world.

We’ve got an appointment with our midwife tomorrow morning. Wish us luck, and think baby thoughts for us. As for right now, I’m going to grab some sandpaper and go to work on this itch.

Here’s a slideshow of our ultrasound photos (view all my galleries at TheGearharts.smugmug.com):