Yep, I did! I felt the baby move! It’s amazing that I was able to feel anything this early. Phyllis says it’s because A is so small (although I’m not sure A feels that small right now). Either way, I’ll take it! Last week, after A had been feeling the baby consistently for a few days and I was growing increasingly jealous, she came up with a code word for me so I would know when the baby was kicking (or punching or cheerleading or whatever). The plan was for A to say, “pop” (yes, like corn), and I would then try to get my hand there as quickly as possible. We tried it for a couple days without luck, and then it happened on Monday! To contextualize my moment, picture A and me lounging on the couch, riveted to Michelle Obama’s speechifying on the opening night of the DNC, my hand resting on A’s belly. The baby was obviously moved by Michelle verbally kicking some ass and high-fived me though the uterine wall! If it’s a boy, we’re naming him Barack Hussein Cash. Just kidding, Family. We often joke about what we’re going to name the baby, because people ask us all the time. We only recently decided on our girl name, but we are nowhere close with our boy name. So, if you do ask, be prepared to hear something surprising and most likely fake…or maybe not. We may very well say we’re naming the baby Jackedocious or Peyton Manning Cash or something equally improbable just to scare you. (OOH! A just felt the baby again!) And Bill Clinton is kicking some ass right now, too.
Archive Page 2
Just when you think not much is happening, something really big happens. I guess that’s true in most of life. Lately, I haven’t had much to report, I’ve not been sure what to post, not sure our friends and family really care if A had a little heartburn today. Basically, things continue to go well. We’re in a no-news-is-good-news kind of period.
We’ve just been living our regular lives, going to work, coming home to hours of riveting Olympic coverage, and then going to sleep. Well, I guess watching the Olympics isn’t part of our daily routine in most years, but who can resist China’s desire to put on such a spectacle that nothing is spared–not the feelings of the adorable 9-year-old made to lip-sync during the opening ceremonies because she lacked talent, not the heart of the 7-year-old who really did sing but was deemed too unattractive to appear on camera, and certainly not the truth–sixteen-year-old gymnasts and 29 footprints padding across the night sky. And am I the only one who thought the images of 2000-plus synchronized drummers were a bit unsettling? Can you say Leni Riefenstahl? Why else would they have instructed the young pounders to smile more if not to tone down the creep factor? But I’m getting way off topic.
A is for Apron
So, in the midst of the humdrum, we started wondering when A would begin to feel the baby in action, and what would it feel like? My mom said it would feel like having butterflies in her tummy. Our midwife said some people describe it as a “fluttering.” Then I read somewhere that it could feel a little like popcorn popping–that’s my favorite, of course–I’ve been calling our baby Niblet since conception. But when it’s the first baby, it’s hard to discern baby movements from a little gas. Really, how are you supposed to know? Every day for the last week or so I’ve been asking A if she’s oiling up that popper, because I am so ready for that popcorn to start a-poppin, but not a single kernel had…UNTIL TODAY!! A was driving home from work and felt something so definitive that it had to be the baby. It startled her a bit, and then the Niblet slugged (well, more like tapped) her again, and again, in about the same spot and somewhat rhythmically. Woo! Too exciting! Just now, she said she felt it again. I tried to feel it, but it’s too soon for that–which is SO not fair! I cannot wait to feel the little Niblet pop!
OK, I’m back. I got a little off track for a couple weeks, but I’m back. And A is feeling good and looking great as you can see here. I think we’re about 15 weeks, but since there are at least three ways to calculate gestational age it gets confusing, so we’ve started saying “about 4 months” as this time measurement makes more sense to most people outside the midwife’s office anyway. Alternatively, when asked, “so how far along are you?” we often respond with, “oh, we’re due on January 23,” because that’s really what people want to know. That’s funny too though, since Niblet is following Niblet’s schedule and will come out whenever Niblet is good and ready, thank you very much!
So, as I was saying we’re about four months along, and when you think about it, that’s almost halfway there! Wow – I just thought about that for the first time. Eek!
And so much to do still. We’ve been researching like mad and deciding what we need and, more to the point, what we don’t need. There is such a marketing frenzy pressuring parents-to-be to amass a ton of baby gear before the little one arrives. Lots of really expensive crap is hurled at vulnerable expecting moms and dads by big box baby stores and glossy parenting mags with the subtle implication that it is all necessary for “good” parenting and “safe” child-rearing (read the book Parenting, Inc.). While it wasn’t so hard for us to decide we don’t need the latest high-tech gadgetry to feel like we can responsibly parent the niblet, we do struggle a bit with our desire to raise the perfect eco-baby of our dreams. Reduce, reuse, recycle, right? Well, we troll Craigslist for gently used items, decided to splurge for the organic cloth diapers (because we came to the early realization that we’ll never have the time or flexible schedules to raise a diaper-free baby), and then caved in a moment of weakness to some incredibly cute sale items at Baby Gap. We’re all over the board, really – slowly acquiring some of the essential (and not-at-all essential) items, like the organic crib mattress we found on Craigslist last week. And we don’t even have the crib yet (gasp!). So, yeah, we’re halfway there.
Two things I don’t particularly love are shopping for clothes and the Mall of America. Yesterday, A and I went shopping for MATERNITY clothes…at the Mall of America. We learned more than we ever imagined could be learned about maternity wear. It was like solving a really hard puzzle: finding enough things to wear for a short period of time that spans three seasons without buying an entirely new wardrobe. I was a trooper, just ask her. And I like a good puzzle, so it was strangely fun. The learning curve lay under the hood so to speak and can be summed up in a single word – panels. While the shirts all have their tent-like accommodation, the real creative tailoring comes in the pants. Whether its trousers for work, capris and jeans for casual wear, or a good ol’ pair of sweat pants for around the house, they all have this built-in super-wide elastic band that stretches along with the growing belly of the pregnant mother-to-be. (Note: While it may seem grammatically incorrect or at the very least unnecessarily redundant to use ‘pregnant’ as an adjective for mother-to-be, it is absolutely correct in our case. We are both mothers-to-be, but only one of us happens to be pregnant.) And that’s just the beginning of it. There are roll-top bands, demi-bands, hidden bands, and full up-to-your-breasts bands. (Note: In the photos, A is wearing one of two new pairs of panel jeans purchased at the Mall of America yesterday. This pair is from GAP Maternity and has a built-in demi-band. In the photo below, you can see A still has obliques @ 14 weeks. How awesome is that?) The demi-band is thicker elastic and fits a bit more snuggly than the roll-top or the full elastic. The hidden band is elastic that’s been placed inconspicuously in the back of the pant. No one may know you’re pregnant if the elastic is in the back of your pants, but there is a bit of the toddler pants effect. The roll-top is a bit funny – looks like a lot of unnecessary fabric that’s doubled over in early stages of pregnancy, and can be unrolled in later stages. The upside to this pant is its longevity, which is crucial in planning a summer/fall/winter pregnancy wardrobe that doesn’t cost more than the first year of daycare. The full-size band was the most surprising to both A and me. Although the oddest-looking of the bunch, it is by far the most comfortable. The material is thin and super-stretchy, which best fits the shape of the belly all through the second and third trimesters…and truly reaches all the way to the underside of the breasts. After a grueling 4-hour trip to the Mall of America, A ended up with four pairs of full-banded pants (plus one demi-band pair, four shirts, and the cutest little fall jacket).
They even make a maternity accessory that’s just a band in itself, allowing you to wear the pants from your pre-pregnancy wardrobe for as long as possible by unsnapping, unbuttoning, or unzipping them and fitting this wide piece of elastic fabric over the top to cover what you’ve undone. Getting it on is a trick not so unlike the actual birth process. You push your head through the elastic fabric, and scoot it down past your shoulders and slither up through it while pushing it down over your torso (A tells me she pulls it up over her hips, but this ruins my birthing analogy) and then pinch and pull and reposition until it looks…well…like a pair of paneled pants.
I get it now. The relentless enthusiasm parents have for shooting hours and hours of video of their kids doing this or that amazing thing. We’ve all played the reluctant yet supportive relative sitting there watching hours and hours of video of the little one. And the parents are watching it for the umpteenth time yet appear as if they were seeing Old Faithful spout off for the first time. It’s only their nuanced narration enhanced over multiple viewings that gives them away.
Yesterday we spent about an hour watching our little bun on a video monitor alternately sleeping, squirming, kicking, rolling, yawning, and I kid you not, sucking its thumb. I could have watched that a gazillion times and it would still feel just as exciting. We had an early ultrasound to determine whether or not we would have twins. My mother recalled the Friends episode where they couldn’t make out anything in the sonogram. I think our family humored us when I attached those early images to an email saying, “You can see EVERYTHING! Isn’t it amazing!” When in reality one could see no more than a ragged outline of a fava bean.
I think these are WAY clearer. The ultrasound technician, knowing that no one sees what the parents see on the video monitor, kindly labeled these for us. I think the references help, don’t you?
We’re entering the 13th week of alien invasion, I mean pregnancy. A is climbing out of the depths of first trimester nausea and fatigue. She’s actually starting to feel human again (except of course for the alien inside). The bump is getting…bumpier, which is a relief to A who had been feeling like she was growing a spare tire rather than a baby. I think the “beer gut” reference will soon go out of favor although it has been her choice phrase to date. It hasn’t been easy for A to navigate this physically ambiguous period. My increasingly protective nature makes me want to shout at those who might throw that sort of judging glance: “My A’s no liquor-guzzling slacker with lackadaisical fitness habits. She’s with child! How dare you!” Anyway, that’s what I imagine saying. 
But seriously, she’s feeling so much better that she’s easing back into her regular gym routine after a 6-week sabbatical which will make her much fitter than me in no time. (Actually, she’s always been fitter than me.) But I’m making a valiant attempt to get back on the exercise wagon. A says I need to be in training for when the baby comes – I’m no spring chicken after all. It’s a good idea in theory, prepping physically and mentally for the Baby-Raising Olympics. We’ll see if I can qualify for the team. Hey, if Dara Torres can do it, so can I, right?
It’s kind of funny how all of our significant dates so far already have significance in and of themselves. We had our first insemination on May 1, May Day. Whether you think of it as International Workers’ Day or the midpoint between the spring equinox and summer solstice, it still had meaning before we were celebrating it as Conception Day. And we got it on the first try. Crazy, huh? We held out until May 11 to do our first pregnancy test, again getting lucky on our first attempt. Woo! This year, May 11 was Mother’s Day and A’s mom was visiting from Ohio. She was pretty excited to be the third person to know and to know within minutes of our finding out. We were all bleary eyed and still in pajamas. That was pretty cool. Then when our midwife told us our due date was January 23, A’s Dad’s birthday, we were like, “you’re kidding me!” It all sounds too planned and neat and fairy-tale like, but it really is just the way it happened. I guess we’ve been kissed by luck so far.
A is starting to look a little pregnant.
Steele Group I: In August of 2004, we camped on the banks of Lake Huron. That’s were it all started for A and me.
Steele Group II: Last August, we converged on Duluth! (See the photo stream to the right!)
Steele Group III: This July, we converge on Hayward, WI with the niblet in A’s tummy.
Steele Group IV: Erin and Nancy’s wedding next July is technically Steele Group IV – and the first Steele Group vacation with a baby in tow. We’ll have some logistics to figure out for sure!
The parent perspective is slowly seeping into my psyche. My lens is permanently refocusing.
Conceiving on May Day is possibly the coolest thing that’s happened so far. Seeing our baby’s heart beating at hummingbird speed on the ultrasound monitor was pretty cool, too. So was hearing that same heart beating two days ago for the first time. No doubt we’ve just begun a lifelong series of “firsts.”
Every year, the May Day parade and pageant brings subversively joyful political theater to our vibrant Powderhorn neighborhood in Minneapolis. In the weeks before, kids and adults work tirelessly at the Heart of the Beast Theater workshop constructing thematic larger-than-life puppets and costumery for the celebration of a new Spring. Last year, we watched puppeteers maneuver a huge pink baby down the street. As they waved long sticks attached to it’s limbs, the papier-mache infant floated and bounced across an urban backdrop of powerlines, trees and rooftops. It was scary, funny, beautiful, and intense.
We started growing our baby this May Day. Our very own scary, funny, beautiful, and intense parade sprinkled with a little joyful subversiveness along the way.
