The Suspense...

         Well, 38 weeks...and the clock is ticking.  This is like waiting for Dick Clark's ball to drop in Times Square but way longer and with a much bigger pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  Also, there is no slurring of words from a 90 year old leathery orange skinned man who I am convinced is dead...they are using his body like a puppet just like Weekend at Bernie's.  Maybe this was a bad analogy.

            Along with the suspense comes the anxiety and somewhat disappointment of each and every regular phone call that is made by Monica or I.  Let me clarify.  It is natural and there is not way to avoid it...every phone call we make to anyone they are going to think it is THE call.  Heck, I do it too every time Monica has called me for the last month or so.  When I call my family/friends or she calls her family/friends they think it's go time and the water has broke.  There is so much emotional build up and anxiousness when and as the phone rings.  You think to yourself....Is this it?  Are we ready to go?

           Then you answer the phone with your heart pumping and not knowing what to expect.  Slowly you press Accept on your cell phone...and say carefully...Helllllloooo as if to expect exciting news.  This anxiety comes with most calls that are placed by Monica and I nowadays and it is quite funny.  I almost like calling people more now just to sadistically get their hopes up and raise their anxiety levels...just to tell them what I had for lunch or some other form of boring conversation.  Toying with others anxiety is somewhat  therapeutic for me since I know that my own anxiety is so bad sometimes that I compare my stress levels to George Costanza.  At least I'm not as anxious as George (this makes me feel better)...Here is one of my favorite Costanza moments with his anxiety over an expected phone call.

          Now I as well have dealt with this for a couple months now.  Every time that she would call me my blood pressure would shoot up and my mind would start racing.  "Where is that bag for the hospital?  Who can cover my class if I need to run out of here?  Where did I park?  Who is going to watch the dogs?"  Then I would excuse myself from my students and answer my phone, "Is this an emergency?"  Monica would be on the other end of the line saying, "Can you pick up some orange juice on your way home?"  Hypertension releases, and back to reality.  "Yes Mo, I will pick up some juice."  Just like that disappointing feeling I get on New Year's Eve.  "Ok, the ball dropped, no what?  I guess I'll brush my teeth and go to bed." 

          Consequently, Mo and I have developed a system to reduce pre-call suspense and anticlimactic results of phone calls.  Monica has to send me a pre-phone conversation text message stating specifically that it "This is not an emergency, call me back when you get a chance."  So far, this has worked out wondrously.  When I get this text, I calmly call her back when I have a chance rather than fumbling with my phone while my mind races about "what if's" and "to do's."  Good communication = less anxiety.  At least Monica is a much better person than me and hasn't faked me out yet with this whole thing...because I sure as heck would have done so.  If I was pregnant I would be calling everyone each week to mess with them.

37 weeks

Full term!!!

Paging Dr. Idiot...

One of the main staples of this whole pregnancy process has been the multitude of Dr.'s visits that have now become a weekly endeavor.  Moving down to Florida also meant that we would be moving away from my wife's "lady doctor".  This was a stressful experience for Monica and finding a new OB was on the top of her "to do" list when we got settled here.  Fortunately, she work's in a children's hospital and has access to a network of good physicians who know what they are doing.

Monica decided on using a practice that had the option of having a midwife for your pregnancy.  She liked the idea of receiving a more personalized experience rather than having a ridiculously busy physician rushing her in and out of appointments.  With this particular practice there were several midwives and several physicians.  If you pregnancy becomes high risk then you are automatically switched from a midwife to a doctor. 

When we walk into the Dr.'s office, it is always a crap-shoot.  You don't know if you are going to get the sweet receptionist, or if you are going to get the sassy black lady who is apparently the busiest lady alive.  Approaching the sign-in desk can be intimidating.

   
Once we are past the receptionist we move into the waiting room which is a real slice of life.  You have people of all ages, races, religions, and socioeconomic backgrounds.  This area of Florida is a little bit more diverse than the Suburgatories of the Midwest.  I unfortunately had to overhear many conversations about medicaid and babies daddies in this room.  My favorite situation was the young woman who just moved to Florida at 36 weeks pregnant (not to be judgmental but....good idea).  She no doubt came straight from one of Florida's most luxurious  trailer parks to the office with her boyfriend and her grandma.  Without any sort of appointment or notice of her impending arrival, she began randomly cursing out the staff for not seeing her ASAP and condemning the entire state of Florida for not accepting her Medicaid from the state of Missouri.  The situation was so random and irrational I thought I was on a reality TV show or Candid Camera.  So from that point on was completely sympathetic with sassy black receptionista lady.   

Altogether, the midwives have been great and Monica has enjoyed her experience so far.  Each Midwife has there own interesting persona.  There is the goofy little Jewish lady with a thick accent who is seemingly on speed.  Also, there is the laid back blond beach midwife who seems to be too calm.  Then there is the relaxed and realistic midwife who has grown kids and seen it all in her personal and professional life.  However, there was one particular appointment when we got stuck with the nurse practitioner, whom undisclosed to us, was known as the "Weight Nazi" by the other midwives. This NP set me up for a disastrous day and I will forever blame her for the incident.

In the examination room, I sat and stared curiously as I always do at the various stainless steel medical instruments used for poking and prodding women in wonder.  I cringe and think to myself, "ooh where do they stick that?  That looks like it hurts like hell."   Then the NP walked in to examine my wife.  Now mind you, Monica is looking pretty damn good and feeling good about herself at this point.  She was only 104 pounds at the start of pregnancy and she had gained about 30 lbs. at this point (which is a typical average at this point of pregnancy). 

The NP goes through the regular procedures and check ups with my wife as I enjoy a lovely game of Words with Friends.  Then came the shock and awe phase of the exam.  The NP said, "you know Monica, you might want to start watching your weight."  In my mind I am thinking this is regular and I don't think anything of it at first....then I saw Monica's face.  In shock and concern, Monica said, "what should I do?  How should I..."  The Weight Nazi went on to say, "instead of having a bunch of cake, just have a half a piece".

WHAT???????????  Did she just say that?  As you can imagine the rest of the day was spent focusing and contemplating this issue.  It was the center of attention up until the next appointment.  I had no idea of how to address this issue.  In one of my failed attempts to say something of substance to cool the issue I made the mistake of saying, "well maybe we should just watch what we eat for a little bit".  This was followed by ridicule that I blame "Weight Nazi" for completely.  In the end, upon returning the following week for a next appointment, my wife immediately brought up this issue to laid back blonde beach midwife.  She informed us of the NP's status as the practice's only member of the Weight Watcher's Third Reich and to not worry about the very standard amount of weight gain.  She said to eat the entire piece of cake next time.  So on the way home from that appointment I took my lovely wife for some orange soft serve at the local Orange Grove.   

37 weeks today!!!!

36 weeks!!!

My 4 girls !!!

The naming process

What's in a Name?

The answer is everything!  This is a stressful experience...I mean unless the child grows up and decides to change it like Chad OchoCinco, they are stuck with this thing for the rest of their life and they didn't pick it.  Mo and I have always liked the idea of naming our child something different in order for them to feel special or unique.  I am talking from experience since my name, Joe, is so uncommon and thus making me feel like an individual (insert sarcasm her).

Monica has always had the name Rosario in the back of her mind.  I liked it...because it was something different and uncommon.  The name is a family name, her great grandfathers to be specific (I'll get to the gender thing later).  So when she first told me of this name, even prior to the pregnancy, I liked it.  When we began tossing names around this one obviously came up in conversation and was on the list the entire time.  Even though it was Mo's idea to start, it became my duty to protect her from swaying and picking some spur of the moment kind of name.

As I mentioned in another post, my wife and I tend to like to avoid conforming to the expectations of others.  So we have heard many times...."Rosario?  Isn't that a boys name?"  Many of our family had this reply to our selection.  According to Babynames.com, it is a girl's name of Spanish or Italian heritage meaning Rosary. 

http://www.babynames.com/name/ROSARIO 

The bottom line is the name is a unisex name and has been used as such from Monica's great grandfather to famous actress Rosario Dawson (pronounced different than our choice of pronunciation).  The aspect we like most is that at it's height of popularity it was the 740th most popular name in 1953.  This is a stark comparison to the common nature of my name and I particularly like this quality.  No body will be calling here Rosario - Schmo implying to her that she is just an ordinary person.  

 

Throughout the pregnancy I would get random text messages and calls from my wife with some name pulled out of the air.  For a while, Mo was on this "Layla" trip.  It was I that had to persevere and save her from her own hormonal imbalances and impetuousness with the naming process.  Monica has the tendency to be impatient and does not do well with indecision.  She wanted a name and wanted it done.  I insisted on Rosario for the time being unless something struck me...and Layla or any other Eric Clapton song's namesake was not going to be the one (especially Cocaine Simko).  It was my job to make sure she did not make a hasty and regretful decision.  Now I am not trying to come across as controlling here...the fact of the matter is that I know my wife and I know what she really wants. 

What she really wanted out of a name is something that has meaning to us, represents who we were, who we are, and who we will become.  She wanted a name that was atypical and meaningful at the same time without being too trendy or eccentric.  We had no intentions of choosing a fruit like Gwyneth Paltrow or a color like Jay-Z and Beyonce...we are not seeking "the get my ass beat in school" kind of uniqueness.

One day, while at work, I got another one of the random text messages from my Mo.  It simply read, "Rosario is the name".  I thought, "she finally realized what she had always wanted, my job is done here."  When I got home from work I asked my wife what the heck clicked with her.  She replied, "I was talking to the baby today and I called her Rosie without even knowing it...it just came out."

And so it is, Rosario, Rosie, Lil Ro, whatever....we loved it and here we go...one month from the due date as of yesterday.

     

35 weeks!!!

My girls!!!!

Welcome to our blog!!! Countdown to lil Rosario!!!

This is a blog about the life and experiences of myself (Joe), my lovely wife (Monica or Mo), our little bun in the oven (Rosario or Rosie or Ro), and don't forget about our super puppies (boxers Juno and Pax).  I am surrounded by the a forcefield of estrogen.  

Today is Saturday January 7th, 2012.  My wife and I moved to Florida 6 months ago now and she is about one month away from poppin' out a baby.  However, our plans were changed by some higher power prior to the move in May when we found out that we would be mommy and daddy.  We moved because of better employment opportunities in the FLA.  I am currently a teacher and a football/track coach taming the Jersey Shore watching delinquents of the world while my wife has a real job and is a life saving Respiratory Therapist at a world renown children's hospital.  When we decided to move to Florida we had not planned on having a child yet...but so I guess we aren't good planners.

I always thought it would be a good idea to write some sort of journal tracking our experiences as parents together so here we are now...one month or so away.  The last several months have been quite challenging for us and the little bun in the oven.  We moved 1200 miles away from family and friends to the Suncoast of Florida.  We are also 1200 miles away from the support (and constant judgement and sometimes suffocating support) from endearing (and sometimes suffocatingly endearing) large Italian and Lebanese families.  If you have ever seen "My Big Fat Greek Wedding"...you understand the commentary and are not offended by the suffocating part.  

We started new jobs and have been meeting new people.  We have some family about a 4 hour drive away and they have been over to see us a couple of times which has been nice.  About a month ago we then moved again from one home to another while we were down here.  So for those who are counting we moved twice in 4 months.  Consequently, my wife and I are embarking on our new lives together and are ever more dependent on each other for support. 

This has been a challenging pregnancy for my wife.  She is 5 foot 2 inches tall and weighed 102 pounds prior to the little mama started taking up residence in her belly.  She has had every symptom imaginable when it comes to being preggers.  Vomiting check, nausea, Zofran dependency, food aversions, ligament stretching that hospitalized her, severe swelling, pre-term labor hospitalization for early contractions, and so on and so on.  The list is longer than an 8 year old's letter to Santa.  

We have gone through many ups and downs this past year.  If you think a woman has emotional swings during pregnancy...try taking one 1200 miles away from her family and friends and having her start a new job on top of all the hormonal alterations.  Despite all of this, my wife has been a freaking champ.  She worked 3 twelve our shifts in a row this week at the hospital.  Her foot swelled up like the Goodyear Blimp getting ready to dispatch itself from the Rubber Capitol.  And so it goes...she plugs along with the heart of a lioness.

I have been increasingly more helpful at home since we have moved and she has been in more need of my assistance.  I have cooked more meals, cleaned up around the house, done laundry more often, etc.  I have done so well at this we have discussed if necessary, I will be Daddy Day Care and she will be Mommy Wears-The-Pants for a couple years.  This would never go over with the whole suffocating judgement of family thing but we are not at this stage yet...this is just a possibility down the road if needed thing.  God forbid we mention that my wife makes more money than me and that would not make sense for her to give up her job.  I hope we can both keep working while the baby is young and manage all of this and our expenses so this is a non issue.

So here we are...get ready...a baby is coming and we don't know how this will change our lives as we move forward...in the words of Shakespeare, "the Shiteth is about to Hiteth the Faneth."  Did I mention I am obviously an exemplary English teacher..hence the solid quote here.  

-new daddy