Fatherhood the Blog - The Third Trimester

           We officially entered the third trimester (according to Margaret, who knows how to count) this past Thursday. This may not seem like that big of a deal, but it becomes one when you realize that trimester means there are THREE mesters. This is the third. This is the last. After this, the guy is here. You know when you go on vacation for a week and on Tuesday you're all, "Can you believe we still have FIVE days left? We've already done so much already! This is amazing!" Then, by Friday it's, "How is this week almost over already?" That's the stage where we are in this pregnancy.

Bumper pad and bed skirt.

             To celebrate Mag took her wonderful self in her wonderful car to her wonderful sister's house to do some sewing! Margaret knows a little about sewing, but hasn't done much in a long time, and her sister is a certified genius in the area (this is in no way an exaggeration. She actually has a, "Genius Level Certification in the Art of Seamstressship" framed and hanging on her wall, and also a small laminated key chain version of the certificate that she carries at all times in order to get discounts at craft stores and, strangely enough, Cracker Barrel). She had agreed to help Mag out and they planned to do about half the work Wednesday, with Mag finishing the rest at home on her own schedule. Well, Mag might have been gone from 7:30 a.m. until 10 p.m. on Wednesday, but they got it all completed. Of course we immediately put it all up in the nursery and, of course, it all looks fantastic. They made two curtains (I'm sure there's a more specific name, but you'll see in the picture) a bumper pad (including, somehow, piping), and a three piece bed skirt (that crib is dressed better than I have been since a wedding 4 years ago when I ripped my suit pants open while decorating the car) all in one day. Mag brought home some pillows and material and set up a little sewing station that she is planning to use to finish up a few more small projects.

Curtain, complete with my favorite stuffed animal from
my childhood (who has been sewn back together no fewer
than three times).

                 I, ever the industrious husband, searched for (using no fewer than three search engines), printed out, and re-sized stencils for the boy's dresser. I have a few cut out and hanging already, and have only to decide the colors I want to use and buy the paint. And, I suppose, actually paint them. I've also been notified that I have to clean out my closet (as it's in what has suddenly become the nursery) and move my stuff into our bedroom closet. I know Margaret spent one of her only days off viciously laboring over both needle and thread, but I printed stencils off the Internet people! When will my hard work and torture ever end?

                 In other news, Mag is starting to have the first physical complications of this pregnancy. Now, I know that just being pregnant is a physical complication in and of itself, but Mag has been pretty lucky in the way that she hasn't been sick once, hasn't had any cravings, and hasn't really experienced many of the symptoms that a lot of women suffer from. However, about two weeks ago she started experiencing a pain in her right side, sort of behind her lower ribs. We did some good old fashioned Internet research (by the way, this is an awful idea. Type in "[your symptom here] + pregnancy symptom" and the first ten results will be, "YOUR BABY IS DEAD!!!!!") and didn't really come up with much so Mag called the doctor. She went in and saw her and Doc said that sometimes there's pain as your womb grows since your ribs have to expand. However, since Mag's place was all right where her gallbladder is, she wanted her to go to a specialist and have a super duper ultrasound. Mag did, and the results showed that her gallbladder is, thankfully, fine. The second guess, or the next most likely probability, is something called hydronephrosis, or hypoplasia, or something like that. It's caused by the same thing (that fat baby taking up too much room) but this time it's the kidneys. One kidney drainage tube gets pinched, so doesn't drain as well and causes a lot of pain. There's no real solution, expect for putting in a stint or just staying medicated on pain pills for the rest of the pregnancy. It normally feels better when Mag lays down though, so she's been trying to do a lot of that after work. She goes to see another specialist (a urologist, I think) in a week and I guess we'll know more then.

                The worst thing about much of life, and pregnancy in particular, is seeing someone you care about in pain. I think most any husband, and of course myself, would much rather feel the pain than watch his wife feel the pain. I'm sure one day my son will have a fever and lay in bed feeling awful and I'll wish there was something I could do to somehow switch places - so I could be the one with the fever and he could be the one perched on my bedside. I can handle pain. I don't enjoy it, and I try to avoid it, but I'd much rather feel it myself than to watch Mag feel it. Also, since I'm so super manly my pain threshold is extremely high so what passed for pain to her would just feel like a mere tickle to me. Seriously though, there's a helplessness that comes along with watching someone you care for hurt, and I can only imagine this is going to be compounded a thousand fold when it comes to the actual delivery room and labor process. I know this sounds silly, like I'm complaining about how difficult labor is for the man, but I can only give you my perspective from my position.

                Lastly, we've been working on a name for our son. This. Is. Hard. I've written about it before, and I'll write about it again, but naming a child is really stressful. There are some things that are out of my control - the boy's genes, his health, his natural abilities, his (sure to be good) looks, and the like. I don't worry about these things because I can't change them. There are some things that are certainly within my control, and about which I feel very confident - my love for, and attention to, this child, the way he is raised, the opportunities he is provided, the things he is taught, the experiences he has. I don't worry about these things because I know I'll hit at least a triple, if not a home run (or maybe a standing double, but I ain't striking out). Then there's the name - this is something that is in my control, something that will identify him until the day he dies, and something that I just don't feel good enough to pull off. I know what I don't like, but I'm not sure what I do like. We actually do have a name we both are attracted to, and that, dollars to donuts, will probably end up belonging to him. I don't know though, it's just too big of a deal to keep me from constantly second guessing myself.

                     Anyway people, all is still well and good on the homefront (and by, "on the homefront" I mean, "in the womb"). We'll know more next week after Mag goes to the doctor and I'll have more to report and more pictures to share after we do even more in the nursery. I'll close with what has been my mantra throughout this pregnancy and what I'll hopefully still be saying after the young punk is hatched - so far, so good.