This, that, and the other

This post will sort of serve as the catch-all for the last (not even) four days. Really, just an amalgamation of whatever has come to mind.


First, going back to Sunday. One of the things that the midwife measures, along with the standard weight and length of the baby, was the length of the umbilical cord. Ame's, or Addie's, or whomever the thing belongs to, was 17 inches long. We aren't entirely sure why they measure this, but we suspect that it's a curiosity sort of thing. What was interesting, however, is that this measurement prompted a short discussion of umbilical cords, in which we learned that the longest that this particular midwife had experienced was 48 inches long -- 4 feet!

Also on Sunday, we took Addie into the bedroom with us, and I promptly began her first post-womb reading of Dr. Seuss' One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. There is a typical after-birth alertness in newborns, but I like to think that Addie's alertness, in this case, was a result of some sort of familiarity with the story. Plus, she's supposed to be responsive to my voice. But she really did seem to enjoy just sitting there being read to. Kind of cool, really.

Diaper changing has become an interesting experience. Bill Cosby does a skit about fatherhood -- and has written a book by that very name -- in which he describes the ridiculous interest that new parents have in their baby's, as he put it, "poo poo." Off the top of my head, I don't know exactly how he puts it, but it's something along the lines of: "Look at the poo poo! Honey, come look at the poo poo! She poo pooed all in her little diaper!" I found this all quite amusing when I first read and heard it, and was even more amused when I found out first hand just how true Cosby's words ring. Who knew how exciting such a thing could be?

While on the subject of diapers and such, Addie has done us the favor of saving us some manual labor. She has a habit -- and I deem it a habit because it has happened twice in less than four days -- of getting rid of wastes while in the process of having her diaper changed. Today, she did it twice in one changing. I was in the process of changing a poopy diaper when, low and behold, out came some more. Then, after getting that cleaned up and preparing to put a new diaper on her, she started peeing. No problem, just get that while I'm at it. Kind of a three-for-the-price-of-one deal. Not too shabby, if you ask me.

She is also feeding quite frequently -- usually every hour -- which would seem to exhaust Ame. Fortunately, she's still on a bit of an after-birth adrenaline kick, which considerably lessens her level of exhaustion. I'm willing to bet, though, that one or two more near-sleepless nights and it'll start catching up with her. So far she's help up wonderfully, though. Something to be proud of, I think.

Mommy and Baby went to see the doctor yesterday for the first time after birth, which went pretty well. Addie got the thumbs up, and so did Ame. I had the rather unpleasant experience of ___ Addie to do the PKU (or heel prick) test, in which they prick the baby's heel and agonizingly squeeze out five drops of blood for various tests. I had to console Addie for this, and was perhaps more relieved when it was done than she was. When she was done, the technician told me that she always wants to be able to pick up and console the baby, since she's been the one to make her upset, but that the parent always sort of swoops in to do this job instead. Well, I didn't let her down. As soon as she was done, I picked Addie up to calm her down. I wasn't about to hand that job over to someone else.

I'm amazed at how much one person can absolutely hate the sound of a baby crying, not because the crying is annoying, but precisely because it's my baby that's crying. I know that Ame feels the same way, something that I'm sure Addie appreciates.

Lastly, one of the cuter things that Addie has begun doing is smiling. I know that it's not a voluntary reaction to any particular stimulus, but it is absolutely adorable when the ends of her lips curl up for that split second. I've got a feeling that Ame and I are both going to look like two bumbling idiots when Addie starts smiling voluntarily; we'll be doing all kinds of stupid stuff to see her do that.

And of course, now that the baby's here, I don't know if I could possibly finish off without a picture. So, more cuteness:

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Ame woke me up on Sunday at 5:30 a.m. to let me know that she had had more than a few contractions since 3:30 that morning. Since she and Cat had spent the better part of the previous day cleaning and rearranging the apartment, she had a hunch that this was it. Her throne was ready for the baby, so the baby was ready for the throne.

We stayed in bed for a couple more hours, working through -- as Ame would discover a little while later -- the minor contractions. Eventually we got up and showered; the hot water really helped her work through the contractions. Ame then spent a good percentage of the next few hours leaning over the edge of the couch with my thumbs dug firmly into her lower back to ease the pain. Knowing that you're supposed to call the doctor when contractions are a minute long or longer and five minutes between, I tried keeping track of these. There wasn't, however, much of anything that was regular about these contractions. Expecting to look at my watch and announce, "One and a half minutes long, seven minutes between," I felt like I had no idea what was going on when it didn't work out that way, but Ame assured me that we were in the beginning stages and that things really wouldn't be regulating yet.

Then Ame's water broke, around 12:30 p.m. This led us to the bathroom (linoleum floors are a plus) for some considerably stronger contractions. The labor was now progressing rather rapidly, so we decided to fill the birthing pool (a large tub, more or less) with 'hot' water from the faucet, which turned out to be just a shade above lukewarm. This really wasn't too terribly surprising, though, when you consider that fact that, when taking a shower, we have to repeatedly turn the cold water down to keep the shower hot enough if anybody else in our building is running water too.

Thinking that Addie was going to be coming soon, we called the doula and the midwife (who was a Mennonite), ready to have the baby at home. Once the pool was filled, Ame decided that the time was right to get in, more than happy to have the opportunity to get off her feet. And since the temperature wasn't quite right, Cat helped by boiling water in our large soup pot (and our small pot, and our sauce pot, and our skillet) and adding it the pool, which warmed the pool considerably.

The midwife showed up around 2:30 and checked to find that Ame was just about fully dilated. Baby was getting ready to make her way down. The contractions, obviously, continued. And boy did they continue. I pulled up a chair alongside the tub and was, as some may say, man-handled. I am proud to say that I was quite the help to Ame during the contractions, even if my help consisted of little more than to be a body to hold onto.

The contractions came and went, and the baby was slowly making her entrance to the world. Slowly. I am convinced that each hour passed more slowly than any hour has ever passed before. Addie was approaching the world as a procrastinator, which is completely, utterly, absolutely, unequivocally unlike either of her parents. Eventually, however -- and it seemed like a miracle at the time -- the baby's fuzzy head began to crown, meaning that we could reach down and feel it. Ame's reaction to this was, to put it simply, beautiful and priceless.

A few pushes later, which were accompanied by the requisite "I don't want to do this anymore," Addison Blythe Hunter entered the world, bright-eyed and beautiful. Even the midwife remarked on how her eyes were wide open and looking around, and this coming from a woman who has delivered a couple thousand babies. Ame held her close, still in the water, until the umbilical cord stopped pulsing and it was time to cut it. That was where I stepped in. The midwife clamped the cord and handed me the scissors, and in a few short snips (which were tougher than I expected), Addie was finally no longer connected to her mother's body.

It was then time for Ame to get out of the water, which meant that I was to be handed the baby. It was suggested that I take my shirt off to bond with the baby and keep her warm (by holding her skin-to-skin), and I obliged. Then the midwife performed the obligatory weighing of the baby, which was an event in and of itself.

The thing about Mennonites is that they must buy things to last. I'm not sure what I imagined when I pictured them weighing the baby, but this wasn't it. The midwife wrapped the baby up in a piece of faded gingham cloth and suspended the contraption from a handheld spring scale not unlike this one. The image of a woman in bonnet and conservative, modest dress suspending a baby-in-blanket package from an old scale -- which measured nothing more exact than pounds, halves, and quarters -- was one that I will probably not soon forget, and one that Cat, the designated picture-taker, wishes that she had captured on film.

Concerned about the possibility of being pooped on (I still had my shirt off), I asked after a few minutes if we should go ahead and put a diaper on her, just to play it safe. I was told no, almost as if I were ridiculous for asking such a thing. Based upon the answer I was given, I would have ventured a guess that the baby wouldn't actually go to the bathroom until next March. But, low and behold, just a few minutes later I was being peed on.

Since she needed to be cleaned up, I went ahead and laid Addie down to wipe her off and put a diaper on her. The midwife took this opportunity to measure her length, and upon concluding that the baby was 20 inches long -- combined with the knowledge that she was 8 pounds, 10 ounces -- promptly labeled her a "chunker."

The rest of the evening was little more than a blur, which was not entirely surprising given the events that had just transpired. But somewhere in the mix the placenta was delivered, the birth tub was drained, and the apartment was generally cleaned and straightened up. Ame did her part to nurse Addie, and after everyone left Cat was kind enough to bake us some scones; neither of us had really eaten since around noon.

Eventually we were able to settle down and get to bed, but getting to sleep wasn't quite so easy, for a few reasons. First, despite how exhausted we both were, we were still each experiencing an adrenaline rush, and were at the same time completely worn out and wide awake. Second, the baby was fussy when not being held, and Mommy and Daddy were more than happy to hold her for just a minute longer. Third, Addie was still getting the hang of being self-sufficient, such as breathing on her own, and neither of us felt comfortable falling asleep without the absolute assurance that she was going to be okay. It's amazing how much you can love and care about something that's so small.

That is, in a rather large nutshell, our birth story. Ame may be embarrassed by this, but I am so proud of her and amazed at how well she did. She even remarked recently that, a little more than 24 hours after such an experience, she may be willing to do this again some time.

So there you have it. And if you're the picture-loving type, prepare to be bombarded.


(Note: As for the title, it is a reference to the movie by the same name, which really has nothing to do with anything except for some vague similarities. I figure it works something like this: "the good" would, quite obviously, be Addie; "the bad" would be labor pains; and "the ugly" would be, without equal, the placenta. Really, it was the best that I could come up with. I thought the story of Addie's birth deserved a better title than "The Birth" or something like that.)

Merry Christmas

What are the odds? Ame and I got each other the exact same thing for Christmas:

The last picture is a pair of socks. Addie came just in time to be able to wear them. We'll write up all the gory details later, but we're both a little tired right now (some of us more than others, understandably).

The stats

Name: Addison Blythe Hunter

Date of Birth: 24 December 2006

Time of Birth: 7:15 p.m.

Weight: 8 lb, 10 oz

Length: 20 inches

Description: Beautiful


Check back for pictures and details.

All hail the monkey baby

(Note: this doesn't have anything in particular to do with the pregnancy per se, but certainly it's better than nothing.)

When I was younger, my mom used to kid me about being part monkey, due in large part to my affinity for climbing trees, and perhaps as a result of my behavior as a whole. I am, at the same time, proud and perhaps embarrassed to announce that this may very well be a designation passed on to Addie.

Usually a time or two per month we will buy bananas during a trip to the grocery store. However, it seems that no matter how many bananas we buy, there is always one that does not get eaten. If we buy six bananas, we'll eat five. If we buy three bananas, we'll eat two. I'm fully convinced that we could buy only one banana and it would sit on the kitchen table until it was brown. I'm guessing that we do this because, subconsciously perhaps, we feel that we've done our bit by eating the majority of the bananas that were purchased. But that's beside the point.

This semi-monthly ritual of--and I'm naming it for the first time here-- the Tossing Out of the Banana, however, will hopefully end once Addie gets old enough to eat solid food. What better way to get rid of that extra, slightly-too-mushy banana than feeding it to a baby who really doesn't know any better? And with all those bananas she'll be consuming, certainly it won't be too out of line to suggest that she is part monkey as well?


Ame's still holding on (and so is Addie). She's begun having more and more contractions, hopefully a sign that the end is in sight. Cat (Ame's sister) came in from California on Tuesday to help us get the apartment in a little better order and to help cook meals and such to put in the freezer, so things will be a little easier once the baby gets here. She also brought with her 47 pounds of baby clothes, which are currently lying in a heap on the bedroom floor. Thanks, Cat.

That's pretty much all that's gone on lately. We'll keep you updated.

To put it briefly:

Yes, today is December 18th.

Yes, it's the due date.

No, the baby is not here.

That's all.

Blame it on the "baby brain"

The women from church threw a baby shower today for Ame (or, perhaps more appropriately, for Addie), to which Ame showed her gratefulness by arriving 45 minutes late. Having slept precious little the past couple of nights due to a significant deal of cramming for her Egpytian Art History final, as well as finishing a 12+ page paper for the same class, Ame went to bed last night without a care in the world, happy to be done with the semester and nothing to do save for getting ready for the baby.

Not a care, that is, except for the baby shower, which she promptly remembered at 10:30 this morning, 30 minutes after it was supposed to start. We were lying in bed, gradually waking up, when we heard a banging on a door somewhere. Thinking that perhaps it was the UPS guy, who has a habit of knocking rather loudly so we can come sign for whatever package has been sent to us, I decided that it wasn't worth rushing to the door; he'd be back on Monday. I noticed, however, that the banging wasn't coming from the front door, but it didn't seem to be coming from the back door, either. Ame wasn't so sure.

So I got up and walked into the kitchen just in time to see a figure walk past the kitchen window toward the front of our building. I continued into the living room and looked out the window, only to see our landlord's secretary, Vivian (who we attend church with, and who presumably was to be at the baby shower), getting into her minivan. As I began to put two and two together, and perhaps fearing for the worst, I walked back into the bedroom to remind Ame, "The baby shower is today." At this she nearly sat bolt upright, and began getting a little bit more histerical than was called for. Not more than 5 minutes later her phone rang, and I answered to find Vivian on the other line. If at first you don't succeed, apparently. So I handed the phone to Ame, and she assured them that she'd be able to be at the church in 10 minutes, half convinced that they were going to take her to the gallows when she arrived. All, however, went well, though I'm not yet aware of what all was given to us; we had to rush over to the library before it closed.

As for the baby, she's still hanging on. I'm afraid that I'm no longer able to post developmental lists, as the pregnancy websites don't go beyond 40 weeks, despite the fact that up to 42 weeks is still considered a normal gestational period. I do presume, though, that all she's really doing at this point is putting on weight; we may have a rather chunky little child by the time she arrives.

Part of me really wishes that Addie will actually be born on her due date, December 18th, if for nothing else because that's the date that has been stuck in our minds since the middle of May. For seven months now, I've been thinking of her "birthday" as December 18th, and I'm afraid it may be difficult to actually consider that she was born on a different day when all is said and done. I'm sure Ame feels the same way; she can hardly remember her own birthday (or, at least, her birth year). But to be fair, she wasn't exactly 'present' for the event, while I'm sure that she'll be very aware of what's going on when Addie finally comes along.

Anyway, that's all that there really is for now. The library, our only real source of the Internet, will stay open during the winter break, so keep checking back for pictures and stories and all that good stuff when the baby finally arrives. We should be able to have pictures up within a couple of days of her birth. But until then...

(As for the title of this post, "baby brain" refers to the conundrum that, as I understand it, many women face while they are pregnant, which manifests itself in, to put it shortly, making the mother dumb. She may perhaps forget basic mathematical principles, how to tie her shoes, relatively important dates, such as a baby shower, or even her very name. A rather lame excuse, if you ask me.)

It may be some time yet

This is just a little heads up that the baby may not be ready for her grand entrance quite yet. Addie's activity has Ame convinced that the baby is trying to exit through her back, so until she figures out that down is the way to go, it'll just be the two of us. I would like to think, however, that we have a smart baby and that it won't take her long to realize that she can't just kick her way out. It's never too soon to learn about gravity, Addie.

Week 40

Tomorrow marks the beginning of the 40th week, at the end of which we should, theoretically, have a child in our possession. We'll see how it goes. So what's baby up to now? See for yourself:

• Much of the vernix has vanished but you will notice traces on her body.
• 15% of your child's body is fat. Since she hasn't learned to shiver yet, these fat stores will help regulate her temperature.
• Approximately 60 - 75 percent is water!
• Your baby's chest sticks out, almost as if she's ready to strut proudly over her accomplishment!
• Her lungs will continue developing until birth. They are manufacturing large quantities of surfactant which works to keep the air sacs open.
• She continues to grow; her hair and nails longer as well. You may need to trim those fingernails soon after birth or protect her face from scratches with mittens.
• Small breast buds are present on both sexes.
• The baby now weighs 7.6 pounds (3462gm) and is 20.2 inches (51.2cm) long.

Talking with a woman in our Sunday School class yesterday, it became apparent how nearly ridiculous the whole baby-having process is. I had to take a test to get my driver's license. I had to take a test to get into college. I had to fill out a form to get married. I had to take a test to get out of college. And yet, when all is said and done, they're just going to give us a baby, no questions asked.

You want to operate a vehicle? Not until you do well enough on this test.
You want to go to college? Gotta do well on this test.
You want to get married? Fill out this form first.
You want to graduate from college? One more test, buddy.

You want to take this baby home with you and be the only two people directly involved in its health and well-being and overall mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual development? You want the burden of assuring that this child will actually live to adulthood and develop into a sane human being capable of living a normal life? You want to change this baby's poopy diapers, feed this baby the right food, teach this baby to walk and talk, make sure this baby isn't traumatized for the rest of its life? Sure, what do we care?

One of those is unlike the other four...

Anyway, we're still waiting. Ame has a final on Tuesday then one more on Friday, at the end of which she will switch entirely over to "Happy baby thoughts" mode, which is really just an attempt to convince Addie that it's better out here than it is in there. But if she's anything like her mother, I don't think she's going to buy it. She's probably not going to want to leave her cozy little home yet.

Now that I think of it...

One of the more common ideas about pregnancy is that the husband is sent on countless grocery store trips for things such as pickles and ice cream. I, however, have yet to be sent on such a mission, and doubt that I will be sent on one any time soon. Still, Ame's pregnancy has not been entirely void of food -- shall we say -- issues, a fact that was pointed out to me by Ame herself a couple of days ago. I really only have two examples, and I think I may have already mentioned one of them, but for your reading pleasure (and because I have nothing else to do at the moment):

Before discovering that she was pregnant, Ame was a bit perplexed by the fact that had gotten into the habit of consuming at least one raw carrot each day. Typically, this was done by cutting the carrot into bite-sized pieces and dipping it into salad dressing, but I do believe that on more than one occassion she filled her daily quota a la Bugs Bunny.

Number two was, sadly perhaps, the closest that Ame came to filling the crazy-pregnant-lady-cravings mold. I do not recall exactly when in the pregnancy this happened, but one evening Ame came into the living room with her dessert, a concoction of vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate syrup, peanut butter, and, you guessed it, Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal. While I admit that this wasn't completely off the wall, you can't deny that it was a bit odd.


That's all that I've got for now, but I thought you all may enjoy another fun little update. Adios.

Looking back

Now that we're nearing the end, inching closer every day, I thought it might be fun to look at some 'highlights' of the last 8 1/2 months.

First Trimester
The beginning of Ame's pregnancy coincided wonderfully with the culmination of her senior show, the great "Farewell!" to her studio art degree. So, it was understandable when she chalked her sudden wave of exhaustion up to a few sleepless -- or, at the very least, late -- nights. Understandable, that is, until she took the pregnancy test and found the two little lines, which inspired a great "Aha!" moment. And, truth be told, I had noticed that she seemed to be getting a little bit bigger all around, but not enough for me to really care about, or at least not enough for me to actually say anything. I value my life.

The aforementioned pregnancy test leads us to the second highlight: the breaking of the news to the husband. As I recall, I was informed of this pregnancy somewhere around 5:00 a.m., which isn't too terribly early until you consider the fact that I had only gone to bed about 2 hours earlier. So, understandably I hope, my reaction was not quite up to par for the Misses. It was, if I remember correctly, something along the lines of (and certainly not much more than) "That's nice, dear." It's not easy being enthusiastic when you feel like you're half zombie (Ame wasn't the only one putting the finishing touches on her degree: I had been working hard on my senior thesis as well).

Second Trimester
Ame read all but three books ever written about natural birth, including one by a group of hippies that, I think, lived in a school bus. What about the three she didn't read? They were written in Greek.

The second trimester also marked the expansion of Ame's stomach, in more ways than one. For a stretch of a few weeks, it was not uncommon for her to put away more food in a sitting than I did. Witnessing this, I began to seriously wonder if she was pregant or just getting fat; each seemed like a perfectly viable option.

Third Trimester
This one is also commonly known as the "Finally Trimester" and the "What have we gotten ourselves into? Trimester." The words of Jesus ring ever true now: "Father forgive them; for they know not what they do." All kidding aside, though, this was (and is) the time of utmost anticipation. Currently, it seems as though every contraction elicits thoughts of This could be it, combined with thoughts of But if not, that's okay. It's "Hurry up and get here" combined with "Take your time." Or, as it is more commonly known as, bipolarism.

This is also the time that, I'm assuming, Ame wishes she had a portable toilet, so she would never be out of arm's reach of relief. Continually growing baby combined with on-the-bladder postioning leads to a lot of bathroom trips. In fact, I think the bathroom floor may actually be a foot or two lower than the rest of the apartment due to the ridiculous amount of time that she's spent in there. It is now that hardly a conversation goes by which does not include the words "I have to pee."


As we get nearer to our own personal D-Day, it's intersting to look back and realize how much things have changed over the past 9 months. Heck, 8 months ago we didn't even realize we were pregnant, and now we're on the verge of having to actually ensure the survival of another human being. It's been a fun trip, but a trip whos end we're both looking forward to. I think it's time for Addie to play Hide-and-Seek with Mommy and Daddy: "Ready or not, here I come..."

T-minus 2 weeks

The 39th week begins Tuesday, and really we're just biding our time until Addie decides she's ready. Anyway, what's in store for baby:

• The lanugo has mostly disappeared, but you'll probably find a bit on her shoulders, arms and legs and in those protected little bodily creases. It will vanish completely on its own in time.
• Her lungs are maturing and surfactant production is increasing and fully prepared to take on the outside world!
• Your baby doesn't have much room to move and certainly mom agrees! Did you imagine 8 months ago that this wee one would be able to hook a toe in your ribs while elbowing your bladder? She certainly has grown!
• Her body continues laying on the fat stores that will help regulate her body temperature after birth. In addition to normal fat, she is accumulating a special "brown" fat in the nape of her neck, between her shoulders and around organs. Brown fat cells are important for thermogenesis (generating heat) during her first weeks.
• Your infant's weight is around 7.25 pounds (3288gm) and length is 19.9 inches (50.7cm).

We're slowly getting everything together that we need. Diapers, clothes (our apartment has been invaded), carseat, all that good stuff. Whenever you're ready Addie. We'll be waiting.