Our Little Guy

July 31st, 2008

July 29, 2008
We had our 13 week (3 month) ultrasound today. The tech and ultrasound doctor were both quite confident that its a boy. Apparently our little guy is quite active, kicking and waving his arms around constantly. He even flipped over once. It was amazing to see that there is not only a baby in there, but that he’s alive and moving! I’ve nearly forgotten all the sickness and puking.

In order to get a good measurement of the back of his neck, looking for a down syndrome indicator, the tech jabbed at him numerous times trying to get him to change positions. Judging from the way his arms and legs started flailing with each prod–we don’t think he like being poked. I’ll have to stop the cats from walking across my stomach. We also got to see both hemispheres of the brain, the heart, the stomach and, of course, the limbs.

The doctor was very pleased with how everything looked–as were we! My OBGYN outsources all but the first imaging appointment, which is so smart because not only are they all specialists in natal imaging, but because they also give you a cd of images/pictures AND a video so you can see movement. I’ve already watched the video twice!

Tough Love

July 31st, 2008

July 25, 208
I took Zach into the vet today. He’s getting matted fur on his back and hips near his tail. He’s only gotten one other mat that I’ve known of and that was from an abscess so I wanted to make sure he was alright. I know from when I had my sheep dog, that if you let mats go, they can develop sores under them and they can become infected.

The first thing they do at the vet, after digging the cat out of the carrier, is to plop them on the scale. Cats seem to relish this as much as we humans do. Today’s visit confirmes that Zach’s hyperthyroid issues are cured; he is now just a few ounces shy of 18 pounds. After a quick examination, the vet quickly diagnosed the matted hair issue; Zach is now too fat to properly groom himself. The vet promptly informed me that we are going to have to put him on a diet to loose at least 4 lbs. He said Zach should be getting no more than a 1/4 can of canned food a day (if at all) and a 1/4 cup of dry—not his usual never ending bowl of dry. When he saw the look on my face, pure fear from what would happen if we began starving Zach, he suggested starting by lessening the food by 10% and going from there. This sounds very easy in theory, that is, if you don’t live with Zach.

I then asked for suggestion about what to do about the other cat living upstairs with Zach as I’m sure that Zach would gladly let Atticus starve to death if food becomes rationed. Visions of Zach plotting our deaths while we sleep began to float to mind. I used to wake up to find Zach sitting on the night stand, a few inches from my face, with a psyshotic look on my face. How menacing can a cat look? Think Heath Ledger’s performance as Joker in the recent Batman Movie. Seriously. After studying me for a few weeks Zach began my training. If my elbow was protruding across the invisable line between the bed and nightstand, I would get two licks as a warning before he would bear his teeth into my arm. After the first time it happened Chris said, “Yeah, Zach doesn’t like things near his face.”

But I digress. Back to the vet and the small issue of Atticus, our fraidy cat, being starved to death because Zach would scarf down every bit of the dimenishing supply of food. His advice, put the other cat in the room with the food for 20 minutes and if he’s hungry he’ll eat. Okay, tough love it is. I didn’t trouble him with the fact that I didn’t think we could actually catch Atticus to throw him in a room alone with the food. If we grab him he is completely convinced he is going to be thrown in a large pot to be cooked for lunch and he reacts accordingly to this perceived threat of death.

The next question the vet asked was if we ever give Zach a bath. I said, “Are you kidding, he’d skin us alive!” I informed the doctor, as he wasn’t getting it, that Zach has very specific rules, which frequently change at a moment’s notice, and if they are not strictly followed you get bitten, usually badly. The vet tech shook her head knowingly and said, “Ah yes, a Garfield cat.” The vet then recommended that if he won’t let us comb out the mats (yeah right) that we have them shaved.

What luck it was that the first time I take Zach to the vet without Chris I get the tough love vet that says you have to put him on a diet.

Like Father Like Son?

July 31st, 2008

June 18, 2008
The general consensus already seems to be that we are having a boy. These predictions are of course based upon hunches, “I just think its a boy”, and other strong scientific evidence on the topic like: you have morning sickness all day so it must be a boy, and I couldn’t stand to eat sweet things either so you must be having a boy too. It seems that every pregnancy symptom or preference has some sort of meaning in the magical world of determining baby gender.

Now I’m not complaining or being skeptical about the power of hunches. And, of course, as a brand new, first time, soon-to-be parent, we relish all discussion on the topic. No opportunity to talk about this miracle that has the magical power to change every eating preference I’ve had for 34 years will be turned down. Which leads me to how Chris and I already determined that our baby, which is currently the size of a peanut, is already just like him.

Our first week in Japan is when the “this food I used to love is now disgusting” started. And right about the same time that all day I feel like throwing up feeling started. (Yes, I eat small frequent meals and have saltine crackers with me at all times so no need to e-mail that suggestion. But thanks anyway.) At one point I was remarking after chowing down on a breakfast of watermelon (I normally don’t like watermelon) and Chris responded “I LOVE watermelon.” Then I commented on how strange it is that I now must have cornflakes every morning, it used to be raisin bran. Chris said, “Cornflakes are good, raisin bran disgusting.” I think my final reflection was how my rather large sweet tooth must have finally decayed and fallen out because I’d rather have my toe nails pulled out one by one then eat candy. Chris said, “I don’t like sweets.” Chris then smiled what I think might have been one of his first proud papa smiles and said, “The baby is just like me!” I think he’s right.

Where’s the Stork?!?!

July 31st, 2008

July 10, 2008
This is about week seven of morning or shall I say all-day-sickness.  Yes, I’ve now started a count day until week 13 when so many assure me that feeling like I’m being poisoned will magically disappear.  And at this point I’ve decide it is time to sign up to have the stork drop off the baby.  I’m not sure why I didn’t think of this sooner, but the idea came to me last night as I was bounded out of bed dodging cats and piles of unfolded laundry to get to the bathroom to throw up.  Though I’ve tried, I can’t convince Chris, my husband, to swap duties, I’ll clean the cat litter box and he can make the baby.  So I’ve decided that instead I’ll sign up for stork delivery.  I’ll take the window of January 30 – February 8, 2009.