Imminent Parenthood

Parenthood is on the mind. As of yesterday, the Girl and I are at 33 weeks. Parenthood is definitely imminent. We also learned yesterday that the likelihood of the baby making it to full gestational... tude (?) is less than likely. As of yesterday, she was dilated 1-2 cm. So, in <= 7 weeks, we'll be parents again, only this time we should actually get to bring the little one home with us. At this rate, if it's a boy, the child may not have a name, either. Having trouble with boys' names. So, if you have a suggestion, go ahead and email it to me. Why not? Maybe if we choose your suggested name, we'll sweeten the choice with a little something. There's an idea. Today, we attended a class at the best hospital ever (tm). The class was OK. It was informative, but not terribly engaging. To be fair, though, I was exhausted, and we've been through this before. I'd be curious to ask the point of view of one of the other couples in the class. Despite the dry nature of the class, I still feel more prepared for the day it happens.

What I don't feel prepared for are the several weeks following that day. Having never gotten this far before, I am really not sure how to care for a baby. I'm excited and terrified simultaneously. All I want is to be able to bring this little one home. After that, I am afraid of screwing up parenthood, as I'm sure many people are. Will we make the correct choices? Will we provide the child with a good life? Will we prevent harm from the child, while sufficiently allowing the child to experience and enjoy everything life has to offer? Will the child choke on a matchbox car? Will the child every grow up to appreciate the original transformers? Am I talking as if the child is a boy, when it could be a girl?

The only reason I'm doing that is because I think that's what I see in the sonograms; not because I want a boy over a girl. At this point, all I really want is a healthy child.

Of all things, I'm particularly interested in putting a child seat in the new car. I don't even really know why.

Ha! Is it good fortune or bad that suddenly I'm listening to Odd One by Sick Puppies.

More Doctors

It's been another day full of doctor appointments today. One of them was mine, though. I went to get treated today, and while I was there, I showed the medical assistants the previous 3-D sonogram pictures of the baby. They oohed and aahed and then, five to one, predicted that we will be having a boy. So, it was a good visit. The only sad thing is that I was seated next to a thirteen-year-old girl who was going to be in her infusion for six hours; she has lupus.

I drove home, picked up the Girl, and we raced to Annapolis (with a brief stop for coffee for me). I hadn't even had time for lunch. When we arrived, I learned that we arrived half an hour early. It looks like I would have had time for lunch. Oh well. She did the non-stress test, and our baby passed with flying colors... eventually. The little one doesn't like to sit still for any period of time. Could this possibly be my baby, maybe? Any chance? Heh.

After that, we had the sonogram, which was awesome. The baby yet again proved that it is our child. This time, said child took after Jessie by giving me the finger! We're going to have our hands full in September, I think.

After that appointment, we drove home, with a brief stop to Chipotle. On the way there, the car in front of us shielded some road debris, which I drove over full force. The car is two weeks old, and this incident caused one of the most rattling, scary sounds I've ever heard come from the undercarriage of a car. We stopped on the side of the road, I checked the car, and it appears that the damage underneath is only cosmetic; at least I hope it is. Again, fortunately, nothing collided with the car's exterior, and so I don't have major repairs to make two weeks into owning it. Whew! Seriously, though, it sounded as if a force emerged from the center of the earth to drive a hole straight through my car. When stars die, they don't make sounds as awful. The sound was second only to the sounds I made on December 31, 2008.

At least Chipotle was tasty!

31 Weeks

We hit 31 weeks yesterday. It's hard to believe that in (possibly less than) 9 weeks, we'll have a new member in the household. We have sonograms every two weeks, roughly, and they're about to increase in frequency. It's good for me, though, because I have been using these doctor visits to test my sonogram-reading abilities. Whereas we don't want the sonogram techs to tell us the sex of the baby, I want to see if I can figure it out. So far, I haven't really been able to tell. I'm hoping that one day, one of the sonogram techs will let me use the thing. Yeah, you're not the only one who doubts that.

In addition, the Girl has the blinders on. She's very pregnant. She knows she is, but she doesn't believe me when I tell her she has a massive baby bump! Really, you can tell she's pregnant. And if that weren't enough, the baby might come out knowing how to play soccer. At least he/she kicks very well. Sometimes I can see her belly jump.

But no, she doesn't believe she has a baby bump...

(Psst... she does)

A Whole Lot of Happenstuff

Well now, it's time to be more regular in the world of the blog. A lot has happened lately.

First off, I got a baby mobile... with a turbo! I went the route of the Mazdaspeed3. It has four seats and four doors for the baby, and the turbo's for me. It's a joy to drive, and will be a joy to suck my head into the seat after I break it in. No head sucking when the baby's in the car, though. I am, after all, a responsible human being.

We have reached 30 weeks in the pregnancy! And, since we're high risk, we get sonograms every two weeks. And these are 3-D sonograms! It's awesome. We walk out with ever better renderings of our child.

We also don't want to know the sex of our child until it arrives. Some people think we're strange. It's driving the grandparents nuts. But, we like it this way. However, I am taking this opportunity as a challenge to see if I can read sonograms. I don't want anybody to tell me the sex of the child, but I do want to see if I can figure it out from looking at the sonograms. I think, so far, that I've failed. I've also gotten the sonogram techs to teach me about anatomy during the sonograms. It's pretty cool. I'm hoping that they'll let me mess with the sonogram buouy, or whatever it's called, someday. That'd be awesome! Somehow, I don't think it'll happen. One can hope.

OK, Argentina's about to play Germany. Two soccer powerhouses going at it deserves my full attention. Until we meet again...

Another Day To Fear

It's father's day. I'm a father. That's still strange to say and to think. When I found out the girl was pregnant, I was actually excited at the thought of my first father's day. No longer, though. Today's always going to be a problem for me. Today is another day I should be able to celebrate our child. Instead, I mourn.

I love you baby bear, and I miss you so much it hurts.

Left Wanting

I've been dreading today for a long time. Today's the day it's all supposed to happen. Today's the day the Girl is supposed to tell me he's coming, only to have me gather up all our stuff and race us down to Annapolis to see the doctor. Today's the day I'm supposed to be proud and happy and scared and curious. It's supposed to be today. It wasn't supposed to be New Years Eve.

I want to hear him cry for the first time. I want to feel him squeeze my finger. I want to hear him laugh. I want to give him the opportunity to do everything he would ever have wanted to do. I want to watch him take his first steps. I want to hear him speak his first word. I want to walk him to the bus stop in the morning for school.

I want to give him the world.

We miss your Andrew. Rest in peace Baby Bear.

The Gathering

Last night, we had a gathering. It wasn't a party, because that would imply that its cause was something happy. Andrew's original due date is Tuesday. We wanted to acknowledge this, and we wanted to have as many of the people who have been so helpful to us over as possible. It was a good evening and a bad evening and a sentimental evening and a fun evening and a horrible evening all at the same time. I miss my baby boy more than anything.

You may recall that the Girl's only true brewing adventure was in creating the "Itsaboy Chocolate Stout" we made in honor of Andrew. Yesterday was the day we unveiled it. Pouring it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I uncapped it and cried. I shook the entire time I was pouring it. It took me a full five minutes to abate the tears before I could pour it. I need to keep a bottle forever. The Girl also broke her "no alcohol" thing and had several of them. She likes it, which is the ultimate honor for this particular beer for me.

The Girl also bought a cake from Costco. At some point, we cut it, and it was probably one of the hardest things she's ever had to do. It was for me, I know. I know I just didn't want to disturb the perfectness of the cake. Cutting it felt wrong. Cutting it felt like cutting out a piece of my heart.

Despite the tears, the evening was wonderful. We're so grateful for the people that came. We're grateful for their support over the last several months. We missed the people who couldn't make it. We enjoyed our time with the people who did. The evening was exactly the memorial we wanted to have. It was the perfect honor for our baby boy.

We miss you, Andrew. We miss you terribly. We're sorry you can't be with us. We're doing our best to celebrate the forty-two minutes we got to spend with you. We love you.

A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That

It seems as though the masses in Maryland have risen up and stated that they will no longer drive like sane people. In the last couple days, throughout the monsoon we've had, I have seen several instances of people deciding that they don't like their cars and crashing them into objects not moving at even remotely nearly the same speed. Today, the inspiration for this, somebody apparently decided to turn the wheel and drive directly into a metal guardrail that was fifteen feet from the road. Yesterday, somebody wanted to see what it would be like without an engine and slammed into the car in front, compressing the engine's compartment. The day before, something similar happened, only the person who crashed decided it would be fun to see what the car in front of him looked like without a trunk.

For no apparent reason, also, this week's commute has been miserable. My poor clutch.

On a more somber note, this week and next are going to be hard. They already are for me. We're having a gathering on Saturday to celebrate what would have been our baby's birthday. We feel like it's the right thing to do. We don't want a service or a wake because those are too formal. We just want to remember him and acknowledge that he would have been here.

Some other people don't seem to think this is a good idea, or else give me the impression that they feel awkward about it. We didn't want that to be the case. We just want to have the people who are important to us around for it if they can be here. We're going to be upset, but we wanted to show them that they are important to us, and that they've really meant a lot to us and really helped us deal with this as well as we have. It's as much to show them we care about them as it is to remember Andrew.

Sometimes it feels like the pain will never stop...

In Memoriam

Before this all happened, I decided that I wanted to make a beer for when our child was born. The girl told me that the only beer she really likes is a chocolate stout, so I decided that's what I was going to make so that she could partake.

I still want to honor him. I still want to celebrate the fact that we got to spend 42 minutes with our baby boy. We made the chocolate stout today. The girl helped brew it.

Rest in peace, baby boy. We love you. We miss you. We'll never forget you. Hopefully, we'll get to meet you again one day.

The Worst Day of My Life

It's been nine days since it happened. It's taken me this long to build up the courage or the ability to write about it without collapsing into a ball of tears and blubber on the kitchen floor. I probably won't even make it through writing this.

On New Year's Eve, the Girl had pains in her abdominal area. After awhile, she realized they were semi-regular, and that we should probably time them. I search all over the Internets and eventually thought that this was a case of Braxton-Hicks contractions. It was way to early for anything else. When she noticed blood, I panicked.

We called the doctor, got in my RSX, and did 80 mph down Rt 2 to get to the Anne Arundel Medical Center. I pulled into the spot doing 30, stopped, and a nice nurse helped us to where we needed to be. We went into the triage room and I was panicking. The first thing they did was look for the heartbeat, which they didn't find right away. I freaked out, and then suddenly they came across it and I collapsed and started crying the first time. I was so scared the baby was hurt. That was about the only good thing that happened...

The bad news began here. They told us that they thought she was in labor. I don't understand why or how. All I know is that I was back to panicking. As soon as they said it, I asked if our baby even had a chance at survival. They told us that they were going to see how far along the labor was, and, if it was early enough, they'd try to prevent the labor for up to six weeks. I really hoped that this would work out. At 29 weeks, a baby has a much greater chance of survival. At 23, there's next to none.

They took her to a delivery room, and when they checked her out, they told she was fully dilated and that the baby was coming. I nearly had a heart attack. They asked the Girl if she wanted an epidural, to which she said yes. Before the doctor even left the room, the baby was coming, though. About 30 seconds later, at 7:48 PM, our baby boy was born. They immediately took him over to a NICU table to try to help him. His lungs, heart, and esophagus had not developed to the point that he was ready to come. They kept trying to intubate him to help him breathe, but his poor little passageways were just too small. He tried so hard.

At 8:30 PM, our baby boy died in our arms. He never got to cry, never got to open his eyes. About all he got to do was hold the Girl's finger. I never got to feel him kick in the womb.

Now, all I can think about is how his life was robbed. He'll never get to experience the things we've grown to love and hate. He'll never get the chance to walk, to cry, to laugh, or play. He'll never get the chance to go rock climbing or play soccer. He'll never get the chance to learn everything he may or may not have wanted to learn. He'll never get the chance to appreciate the beauties in the world. He'll never get to experience the wonders that happen every day.

Rest in peace, baby bear. Rest in peace, Andrew Gregory Ambler.

Multiplication and Division

I originally wrote this the night I found out...

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1+1=3. I know. That's addition. Kind of.

That's what happens to the brain, though, when you find out (via e-mail :-) ) that there is to be mini-person in the household in, oh, say, 9 months. Coincidentally, that's a portion of the math involved.

So my heart rate is about 140 bpm, and my blood pressure is probably capable of launching a bottle rocket into a high orbit.

And here's how weird I am. The predominant thought on my mind, since the discovery, has been about cell division. It's the only time division by 2 yields a higher number. Strange, huh? Math is funny. Multiplication doubly so. Pregnancy even moreso than that.

So, yeah, come late April-ish, we'll be plus 1 for all of our engagements. :-)