Tomorrow is the Big Day!

Here we are, the last night before we become parents and it feels like cheating that we know it when most couples have to wait in anticipation. As much as I would have preferred a more traditional style of birth, we will be having a scheduled c-section which means there will be no more waiting and wondering… when will it happen? You see, my doctor feels it is best to go ahead and have the baby, due to some small issues that have come up over the last few weeks. And since Rebecca is breech, the safest way to deliver will be a c-section.

I also want to take a moment to thank the women responsible for the baby showers that provided us with so much of what we needed to care for Rebecca; Anne, Mom, Kristen, Kristi, MaloRee, Donna, and Elizabeth. I know it was a lot of work to put together and Chris and I appreciate it more than you can imagine. In addition, of course, we want to thank all of you who attended and contributed.

When I last left off, I promised to tell you how our classes went. They were very informative. We learned so many valuable tidbits like… the color of the newly circumcised penis is referred to as “beefy red” (makes you cringe a bit, doesn’t it) …a breast-feeding class is not a great place for a bachelor party, as it turns out …and that semen contains a natural hormone that “softens the cervix” and prepares it for childbirth. Did you know that the more sexually active you are in the third trimester the less likely you are to go past your due date? We learned quite a bit about ourselves, too. Things like; we’re not a couple who cares to make friends at these things. There were couples exchanging phone numbers and arranging play-dates for their unborn children. We also learned that practicing Lamaze breathing is embarrassing, even when everyone else in the room is doing it, too. And finally, if you ask Chris during the 6th hour of an 8 hour birthing class where his “happy place” is, he will respond, very simply, with the word “bed.”

Nevertheless, we walked away with quite a bit of useful knowledge and I think we both feel more prepared for bringing home Rebecca Renee. Some things we’ve even practiced at home. Here is a picture that Chris took of me “swaddling” our Chihuahua, El Guapo. El Guapo fought it a bit at first but in the end he let me do it. I really hope that swaddling baby Rebecca is easier than swaddling a dog.

So, as one journey ends another begins. I’ve made a list of some of my observations during this time. They’re all pretty random… hope you enjoy.

1. A pregnant woman should not watch the Discovery Health channel. She will be inundated with images of post-partum Hemorrhages, babies born with illnesses and abnormalities, and emergency C-Sections. After watching a program on Discovery Health, I once had a dream that my daughter had 4 legs and was known in the media as “Lobster Girl.”
2. The girl at the maternity clothing store when I was just 3 or 4 months along claimed that maternity clothes run a little small and suggested that I purchase a size larger than I thought I needed. This sounded convincing at the time but later I realized that what she was trying to politely say was “You’re going to get bigger… a lot bigger…. And I don’t just mean your belly…. So you should prepare now to have a MUCH larger ass later.”
3. Pregnant women tend to waddle as they get bigger. It appears to the outsider that this is due to the significant amount of extra wait that she is carrying in her abdomen. This is partially true, but I believe that a lesser known reason is that she probably hasn’t had a bowel movement within the last 3 to 4 days.
4. Snoring, carpal tunnel, gingivitis, and even restless leg syndrome are all side-effects of pregnancy.
5. I was leaving a restaurant with my friend one afternoon and the cute little 17 year old hostess told me that pregnancy “suits” me. At the time I was near 9 months along and of course she was just trying to be nice but for some reason it set me off into a rant that lasted several minutes. I said to my friend, “So I look good as a sumo wrestler?? She thinks I like being 40 pounds overweight??” Perhaps I overreacted but the moral of the story is, there is absolutely no room left for compliments during the 8th or 9th month unless it is to tell her that she’s not been the hormonal bitch that you’d expected her to be.
6. It’s amazing how 9 months can go by so fast and yet so slow all at the same time.
7. I used to walk with swinging hips, one foot in front of the other. Now I waddle with my feet turned slightly outward.
8. During every pre-natal appointment, I was asked to give a urine sample. Just when I thought I was an expert at getting every drop in the cup, my belly grew to the point where I couldn’t see what I was doing anymore. I had to use two senses other than sight to get the job done. Hearing helped me know if it was in the cup or in the toilet and touch helped me realize when I was peeing on my hand.
9. It seems to be a common theme among pregnant women that toward the end sleeping comfortably becomes more and more difficult and they begin to come up with creative ways to find a good nights rest. Here’s what I did; one pillow stands all the way up, another lays flat in front of it, a third lays against and between the other two, one small pillow wedges under my lower back while another small pillow lays under my belly to support it. Trust me, it has to be just so if I’m going to sleep at all between my frequent bathroom breaks.
10. Pregnancy really does change your tastes and gives you odd cravings. Since I haven’t had any Shiner Bock in about 9 months, I’ve started craving other beverages; Budweiser, Michelob, for godness sakes I’d drink a Lone Star if someone would give me one!


Now, on this final night before we become parents for the first time, I think back on this pregnancy and realize how it all went by in a flash. Soon Rebecca will be in my arms and it feels to me like she’ll be closer than where she’s been all this time before. There’s so much anxiety but I suppress that. I just want to see her little face for the first time and hold her hand.

32 weeks along... Only 8 weeks remaining... but who's counting?

It's been a while since I blogged and I suppose you could say it's because I've been so busy, but, until this month, that really hasn't been the case. In fact, most of the time I'm desperate for something to do. My house is cleaner than ever and I've become VERY familiar with trashy reality shows like America’s Next Top Model, Beauty and the Geek, and my favorite, The Real Housewives of New Jersey. You see, life gets a bit boring once you suddenly have to consider a growing baby in every action you take. Especially when your preferred pastimes are ones that your life insurance company makes you disclose on the application.

In spite of all the extra couch-time, we’ve actually gotten quite a lot accomplished in the last couple of months. We had to completely clear out our guest bedroom and make it a nursery with all of the old furniture taken to storage; we had a new roof built, courtesy of Hurricane Ike and our Home Owners Insurance; and we’ve done various other jobs around the house and yard in preparation for putting it on the market, since TXDOT has decided to build Grand Parkway (Houston’s new outer-outer loop) right behind our back fence. But in everything we’ve done, the most exciting and fun for me was, above all, the nursery. I could not wait to get it all set up and put together. I took pictures of Chris as he assembled the changing table, dresser, and crib that my parents bought for us and I posed for a few pictures with a screw driver to make it look like I’d actually participated in the hard work (although, it is true that I beat Chris in a drawer-assembly race, but something tells me that he’d never admit to it). Here are a few of my favorite pictures from the day. The cat you see in one of them is “Fatty-Fat-Tastic” who’s been with us for about 8 years. He’s our 18 pound handsome man. If you’re not familiar with the entire family, not shown here is “Kitten” who we adopted along with Fatty when she was just a kitten and “El Guapo”, our 7 pound attention-starved Chihuahua. Sure hope they’re ready for baby Rebecca!



In these final 8 weeks remaining before Rebecca arrives, we have lots to do. This month, especially, is loaded with doctor appointments, newborn classes, prenatal exercise, and baby showers. Yeah, I said it; Prenatal Exercise. It’s just become a necessity. It’s difficult to explain but I truly think the pregnant body packs away every calorie the mother consumes as if preparing for nuclear winter. And, for me, it seems to be storing it all in just one place…. my rear-end. So now, several times a week, I head out to the YMCA, venture into their cardio room, and huff and puff atop an elliptical machine while presumably rocking Rebecca to sleep with my motions. And, to make this trip just a little more embarrassing, I end each visit with a quick swim. Yes, I am now the proud owner of a maternity bathing suite (which does absolutely nothing by way of flattery) so that I can actually be seen in public kicking around in the water with little foam water weights…. awesome. And if you guessed that I am NOT posting a picture of that, you’d be 100% correct!

So that’s all for now, just a quick catch up. I’ll post again soon to tell you all about the classes we're taking at the hospital; Newborn Care, Prepared Childbirth, and last but certainly not least, Breast Feeding Basics!

Weight Watching...

Okay, so I’m a little bit frustrated lately. I am uncontrollably gaining wait; too much according to my doctor. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do… I could abide by the strictest diet every single day with the greatest of dedication and still pack on the pounds like nobody’s business. I’ve never been one to have to worry about my weight so this is very upsetting. Before I get too far, let me point out that on the right-hand side of your screen there is now a weight-gain poll. Please vote... Don't worry; your ballot will remain anonymous.

Last week was the official bi-weekly weigh-in at work. We've done this since my eighth week of pregnancy. I literally slip my heels off and stand on the shipping scale. This held some entertainment value for me at first and it certainly entertained my 20-year-old coworker, Mikey, who has the responsibility of determining the result each time, but lately, I’ve been dreading it.

Anyway, I recently noticed that most of my maternity pants have a tag that says “STRETCH” on the inside... just like that, in all caps. How rude! When I read it, I hear the word in my head spoken as if one was straining to get the single syllable out. I really don't need to be reminded on a daily basis that STRETCHING the fabric is the only way a material will fit around my fat ass! You’d think that the makers of maternity clothing would be much more delicate with such matters. And they’re not the only ones… as mentioned in a previous post, Chris has become quite fond of making fat jokes but really, he’s not the only one. Sometimes they’re clever and that’s okay, I don’t mind those. I even make fun of myself sometimes. My absolute favorite joke to make out of it is stomping around the bedroom in my bra and panties, hunched over, pointing at my oversized stomach, doing my best Fat Bastard impression (from the movie, Austin Powers); “Get in my belly! I eat babies!!” That one always makes me laugh. I like to stand in the mirror and do it so I can entertain myself. It’s about the only time that I can smile at the body shape reflected back at me.

Now, even if I avoid all mirrors and try not to look down, there’s one person who will not let me escape the thought of my extra weight; my doctor. Fortunately for me, last week was a double whammy because I also got to meet with her, after weighing in at work. And even if I turn around and don’t face the scale while the nurse weighs me and I even go as far as to threaten the young woman's life if she dare call out the number, my doctor will certainly enter the exam room with this to be the first bit of news that she delivers. She’ll not only give me the overall number, she’ll tell me how many pounds I’ve gained since my last visit. During one very disturbing appointment earlier on in the pregnancy, I was joined by Chris. She scolded me about my weight gain and doubled the daily exercise she'd previously prescribed as if she was giving me some sort of penalty round. She also eliminated fruit juice from my diet (that’s a whole other gripe). I felt about an inch tall as I sat on that exam table. Chris was no help. Already concerned about my nutritional intake, he leaned into her, so very interested in receiving more ammunition; more ways to make me miserable. “And should she be eating this? And how often should she do that?”

On a side note, let me just tell you that I’ve been experimenting on the bathroom scale in an attempt to find a position that would actually make it look like I weigh less than I do. Now, if you lift up on one leg, subtly, so the nurse won’t notice, and stand on just the other, you’ll actually add a couple of pounds; not the result I'm looking for. However, if you bend one leg at the knee into a ninety degree angle, you’ll actually lose a couple of pounds. However, the nurse will undoubtedly notice this and require you to keep both feet flat on the scale. I am going to keep working on this and will let you know if I come up with a viable plan for cheating the scale.

Okay, did I mention the snoring? Chris says it’s because of the extra fat being stored in my neck. My whole life, I’ve never been a snorer, all of the sudden, I snore…. loudly. Apparently, I was doing this for weeks and Chris never mentioned a word of it to me. Well, Chris and I share a queen-size bed so there’s no escaping each other. The first time I was made aware of the snoring was one night when my face rested on his shoulder literally inches from his face and I was just snoring away. Chris woke me up and said, “you know, I don’t mind that you snore now but do you think you could maybe face the other direction?!” Up until that point, I had no idea I was doing it. I’m hoping, for Chris’ sake, that this is some strange side-effect of pregnancy and it will dissolve after Rebecca is born.

I think, whether you’re one of those women who likes being pregnant or not, it’s the most bizarre and discouraging thing to see your stomach balloon from thin and fit to big and pot-bellied, seemingly overnight. A friend of mine recently pointed out to me that, even with all of the scary, creepy, and sometimes disgusting things that happen to you when you’re pregnant, at least you can enjoy all of the extra attention from others. My response was that I was perfectly happy with the attention I got when I had a flat stomach and a nice ass. But that’s okay because there are more important elements at play here. Pregnancy is a necessary means to enriching your life with children. As sarcastic and, perhaps, negative as I may seem sometimes, I'm really just making light of what is so incredibly foreign to me. In reality, everyday I’m so happy that we're one day closer and I'm all the more excited for our lives to be changed forever. Rebecca is going to be the best thing that's ever happened to us.

A Tribute to the Daddy-to-Be on His Birthday...

Perhaps it’s the hormones making me feel sentimental, but I have this urge to share how wonderful I think Chris is, and what better day to say it than on his birthday. Don’t worry, it’s not all sappy. Keep reading…

Recent events gave me the opportunity to really see Chris as a caregiver. Naturally, there has always been that element in our relationship; I’ve always felt that I could count on him for anything. But last week, when struck by food poisoning and feeling absolutely helpless, he showed me that he had the fortitude that a father should possess.

Throughout the pregnancy, so far, Chris has proved that he wanted to be involved. He’d wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me to lie on my left side because lying on my back was not good for me and the baby. He watched what I ate and was relentless in having me follow the doctor’s dietary instructions… never letting me cheat, not even just a little. To make matters worse, he’s started to give me cute little pet names like “big ol’ girl” and “fatty.” Honestly, I was beginning to doubt that he’d actually survive the pregnancy.

But then, I imagined the other end of the spectrum. He could simply not care how I’m doing or how the baby is doing. But instead, he actually reads about how we’re progressing and he’s come with me to as many doctor appointments he could. He’s proven that he cares.

Recently, he proved it again when I became possessed by demons… or at least it felt that way. I mean I hadn’t been this sick since consuming a toxic mixture of beer, wine, tequila, and bong hits. Normally, this is the part where one would say, “I’ll spare you the details” but in this case, I don’t think I will…

It all started with some violent projectile vomiting into the bath tub. It came over me with virtually no warning. Chris pounded on the door wanting to get in to help me and I just kept yelling, “go away!” He barged in anyway while I was washing my face and, although I’d insisted that he not, he began to clean the mess, all the while complimenting me on how far I'd made it up the tile on the walls. At that point, I didn’t argue anymore. It gave me the chance to brush my teeth and go to bed. But that wasn’t the end of it. If you’ve ever had food poisoning, you know what I mean. It’s miserable. I proceeded to get up all night long, time and time again. It almost seemed as if my stomach was on a timer and needed to evacuate every 1.5 hours. Each time, there was Chris, getting out of bed right behind me with a cold wash cloth to place on the back of my neck as he held my hair and gently rubbed my back. And during the hours following this ordeal, Chris was there to make me feel guilty about not eating all day because it “just can’t be good for the baby.”

I was amazed by how tender and sweet he was during that time and I’ve been so impressed by his devotion to his daughter before we’ve had the chance to meet her in person. He’s a great guy and will make one hell of a father. And if he keeps the fat jokes to a minimum, he’ll actually live to become one.

It's a Girl!!

Okay, so we're now in week 20.... that's 20 out of 40 weeks! And if you're on Facebook, you probably already know that we are expecting a little girl. This really changes things for us. It’s totally different now that we can say “she” and “her” when we talk about our future. That’s pretty cool.

So, Friday afternoon was our ultrasound appointment. Chris arrived first and I followed soon after. In an effort to see how many people we could fit in a small exam room, we were joined by my parents, my middle brother, Jeremy, his wife, Kristen, and their 7-month-old son, Clark.

In the waiting room, we played with Clark, until they called my name. My family stayed behind while Chris and I first went in by ourselves. I couldn’t stop smiling. I was so excited that soon we would know whether to paint airplanes or flowers on the walls of the nursery. But the visit wasn’t quite what I was expecting...

First, came the formalities; drivers license, insurance, etc. After the paperwork was out of the way, they shut off the lights and squirted the cold gel on my belly…. This was it! ...wait….no, this was NOT it. They proceeded to identify and measure certain parts of her anatomy; the head, long bones, abdomen, all four chambers of the heart, etc…. Now, don't get me wrong, this was great. It is comforting to know that all of these parts existed and were normal, but every time I caught a glimpse of a cute little hand moving, or a leg kicking, the technician would move right on passed it to get a better look at the kidneys. Kidneys aren’t cute! I don’t want to see her bladder on a big screen TV! I want a look at little toes or a tiny little face… I wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl, dammit! I realized right away why they called this the "anatomy ultrasound." Prior to this moment, I thought they were just being polite. "Anatomy ultrasound" sounds much better than the "Does-it-have-a-penis Ultrasound." No, this was a true examination of the little one’s anatomy. They wanted to get an idea of developmental progress and they also make a determination of the due date based on their findings.

Finally, we were asked the question, “Do y’all wanna know what it is?” YES! Thank you! Of course I do… patience is NOT a virtue that I possess. Chris hurried out the door to get my family and soon the room was filled.

As much as I’d been saying that I wanted a boy, when the words, “that’s a little girl right there,” were spoken, I gushed. I was consumed with happiness. My mom had claimed the space directly in front of the TV when they’d first entered the room but she quickly abandoned it to rush to the foot of the bed where I laid to say, “oh, a little girl! You’ll have the best relationship!” Chris was standing over the technician trying to get some kind of a guarantee out of her that it was, without a doubt, a girl. He was all ready to rush home and start painting flowers. He was satisfied when she offered her 100% certainty. Here is the picture they took of her little legs opened but crossed at the ankles… like a little lady. Admittedly, there’s not much to see in this picture but I promise you, the moving images were much more easily distinguishable and very cool to see. Chris pointed out how often she was “geeking the camera” by waving her arms around so much.

The final step in the ultrasound was to get a picture of her face. This proved to be quite the task. The technician carelessly shifted the wand over my belly up and down, left and right. I can’t describe to you the sensitivity your abdomen has when you’re pregnant, but they seemed to give no regard to that whatsoever. They claimed that they were having such trouble getting an image of her face because she was either shy or stubborn. My loving family responded in unison, “she’s stubborn,” as if it was so inconceivable that anyone carrying my genes could possibly be shy. Well, they did get a picture. The one I’ve included here catches the iris of one of her eyes very well. I like to think that she was mean-muggin’ the technicians for bombarding her with sound waves… that must be annoying. I give them a hard time, but actually, these ladies did a great job and made us all feel very comfortable. In fact, we may see them again. The closing pin tattoo on my hip prompted a brief discussion about skydiving and Chris was ready with Skydive Houston business cards in hand.

The next morning, Chris and I went to breakfast at Denny’s. As you can probably imagine, the topic of discussion was our daughter. We’d already picked out a name; Rebecca Renee (Rebecca is both my middle name and my mother's first name while Renee is Chris' mother's middle name). During the meal, Chris hatched his plan to bulk up to the point of pure intimidation so that boys will think twice about talking to his daughter. Other guests, a young couple, arrived to sit at the table next to us. In a car seat was a sweet, sleeping, baby girl. I noticed that her ears were pierced and recalled that it was normal in my family to pierce a baby’s ears. I asked Chris his opinion on this but his response was simply, “why don’t we go ahead and pierce her nipples while we’re at it.” I gathered that he was not too keen on the idea and left it alone.

While we have a long road ahead of us, and many things to learn and decisions to make as parents, we are looking forward to it, as unexpected as it is. And, yes, I’d told everyone how I wanted a baby boy, and truth be told, I did. But in the end, I don’t think it ever really mattered to me what the gender would be. She’s our child. And she’ll be perfect no matter what.

I’ll be writing again with more news in the future. I plan to start a “how much weight will she gain” poll… that is, if my mental health will be able to sustain the damage that may be caused by the results that are sure to be insulting and, let’s be honest, probably accurate…

Getting Started

Well, with the belly growing and the ultrasound that tells us the sex of the baby right around the corner, we've decided to start this blog in order to easily share our experiences with our friends and family. We hope that you enjoy reading it and share your comments, as well.

We'll start by catching up on what has occurred in the last 19 weeks. If the doctor is correct, we conceived after a night of some good-old-fashioned turkey bowling at Skydive Houston... we'll spare you the details. Here, we've posted some of the turkey bowling pictures. These are the last known images of the care-free Scaife's that once existed...

Six weeks later, after wearing white pants, admittedly in a feeble attempt to "coax" out a menstrual period, a pregnancy test proved what was suspected... the Scaife's would be parents. We agreed to keep it to ourselves until we'd gotten past the first trimester, which is typically the most dangerous for the pregnancy, but one of us spilled the beans after only one day. One hint as to who it was.... he's bald. But he wasn't the only one... a few days later Kate received a call from her father to let her know that her mother had already made several phone calls to everyone she know to share the news. Apparently she concluded each with "and they're not telling anyone yet so you have to remember to act surprised."

At week eight we had the most wonderful experience of our first ultrasound at the doctor's office. It was the first time we got to hear the heartbeat and it was amazing. We've posted the ultrasound images here. Really, it looks more like a lima bean than a baby, but this is a work in progress! As magical as it was, the doctor visit was also a little unsettling because she performed a physical exam right before the ultrasound which poor Chris was not expecting and had never had the pleasure of being present for. He sat, seemingly content, reading a "Star" magazine, as if he cared who Lindsay Lohan's BFF is, but you could see the discomfort written all over his face.

As the weeks continued and the nausea came and went, mommy-to-be had given up nearly everything she once loved... coffee, cigarettes, alcohol, skydiving, being able to eat whatever she wanted without watching her ass spread, even deli meat for goodness sakes. The only good part about pregnancy, so far, is getting bigger boobs. We hope we get to keep them but, unfortunately, we realize that we're talking about the physical anatomy and not some cute little puppy that followed us home one day... We'll update you on the boobies sometime after the baby is born.

Now, here we are at the start of 19 weeks (nearly half way there!) and we're so excited. In five days we will know whether to expect a boy or a girl. We'll do our best to have that information posted here as soon as we can as well as additional updates in the future.