The Periphery of the Mind

After 25 hours of damaging labor, Corwin Alexander Babb was born April 9th at 3:14, via C-section. He weighed just under 7 pounds, and measured 19 inches. Maryanne's been recovering well, and it turned out that Corwin's cord was wrapped around his neck. At first Maryanne was having problems producing milk for him (60 hours of forced fasting and surgery will do that), and Corwin's weight went down. But now it's going back up and he's doing fine.

Labels: Fatherhood

Took Maryanne to the hospital for high blood pressure (I think it hit 180/100 at one point, and I saw it in the 160's on multiple occassions). It sounds like they're waiting for her to dilate some more before they induce, and have put her on bed rest. Otherwise, she's doing good it seems.

Labels: Fatherhood

I've been looking at toys lately, and while Corwin won't be able to play with Legos or Duplos for a while, I figure a plush toy might be in order. But what to get that says "Daddy picked this out for me?"

First up we have the Rabbit With Big Pointy Teeth.



I'm also toying with a slightly larger version that has glowing red eyes.



And then there's good old Godzilla.



Maybe he needs his own Cthulhu? I have one in my car after all, but this one's bigger.



Maryanne would probably go for this one. A lifesized plush Rygel!



Although some people prefer to go the route of "give the baby a plush baby doll" so.... His own egg and facehugger from Aliens.



And for when he's a bit older, his own Tauntaun sleeping bag. It's how Star Wars Jedi stay warm!



Okay, in all seriousness, the Alien facehugger is neat, but I'm afraid it'd either tear easy, present a choking hazard, or just be too perverse a toy for a baby. I add it as a joke, really.

The Tauntaun sleeping bag is meant for older kids, and I'm not sure I want to explain to Corwin later on why it's okay to slice open his sleeping bag but not do the same thing to the cats. (The dogs can fend for themselves.)

The Rygel really is too big at 26" and way more money than I'd want to spend. I add it here for Maryanne to see more than anything else.

The other toys I'm looking at should be safe, small without being too small, and without pointy plastic bits or anything that could harm him. The rabbit is cute, and would double as a cute plushie for a boy. Godzilla is big and bad looking, and seems like something I'll try cramming down my child's metaphorical throat sooner or later. Cthulhu has sentimental value, but I'm not sure I want to get into all the Baby Mythos stuff (plus Maryanne probably wouldn't appreciate the humor of a lot of it).

Labels: Fatherhood

Monday we went and got the ultrasound done.



Kind of a shame that the really neat stuff, like watching the baby react to the ultrasound wand pushing on Maryanne's belly or seeing him open his mouth (laugh? yawn? cry?) when Maryanne laughed, didn't make the cut. The whole thing is kind of surreal. As it is the baby looks like something out "Mars Attacks" or an H.R. Giger construction, monstrous and frightening as it's jaw clacks against its skull or its spine suddenly shifts and moves like a dead snake. But it's beautiful and fascinating at the same time. It's not a cackling skeletal fetus, but our baby sucking on his thumb. And the snake-like bone structure is just him moving around and trying to stay comfortable. I still have no idea if he was crying or yawning or laughing with Maryanne though.

Now, I'll be honest, I'm still a little bit afraid of what the future will be like. But it takes some effort to actually terrify me of my child now that he's on his way.

Labels: Fatherhood

So it seems Maryanne has a "like-hate" relationship with us watching the show Supernatural. She likes that it's a good show, with fun characters and plots, but she hates all of the... well... supernatural elements. Ghosts, demons, pentacles. It scares her and makes her feel uncomfortable. See, she grew up in a devout Christian household that wouldn't put up with that kind of thing. Whereas I was reading my mom's Steven King books by the time I was 8. We have different backgrounds in that regard.

Personally I like supernatural horror stories. The monsters manage to kill people, but in the end they're defeated. Good wins, evil loses. And that moral absolutism is comforting. Meanwhile, I click on the news, and it's just a collection of real people killing and hurting and fighting with other real people. And not only do the good guys fail in the real world, but it can be hard to figure out just who the good guys are. In movies and TV it's pretty simple: the monster trying to kill people is the bad guy. Reality can be less clear some times.

So what does this have to do with children though? Well, honestly I doubt I'd let my kid read Steven King until they were at least 12, and probably hold off on most cinematic horror until around that age too. On the flip side, I can see myself reading "The Thief of Always" to them, or letting them read "I Am Legend" (the great novella, not the crappy Will Smith movie based on it) when they were old enough to read it themselves.

I'd like to share the things I enjoy with my kids, but I don't want to emotionally scare them either.

Labels: Fatherhood

Well, yesterday Maryanne hit the "sick when she's hungry, puking when she eats" stage. We're not sure if she's having "morning" sickness, or if it's the flu. Her temperature seems fine though, so we're leaning towards it just being morning sickness.

Right now she's sleeping a lot, taking it pretty easy. It's hard for her to find stuff she wants to eat and feels comfortable eating. So our fridge and freezer is starting to stockpile stuff I stay out of for her sake, and stuff she ends up not wanting later.

She once said she wanted to reserve the right to have kids past this pregnancy, but I'm thinking she may end deciding to adopt next time.

Labels: Fatherhood

I've been thinking today about that great question that all men of my generation find themselves asking sooner or later: Superman or Batman? And I find that while I'd much rather be Superman, I'd rather my children favor Batman.

Superman is the "easy way out". Essentially he's a normal guy, who discovers one day that he has all these super powers through virtue of his alien heritage. Strength, speed, flight, it all just comes naturally to him with no effort. Batman by contrast is a self-made man. By that I mean his tools, his skills, his convictions and diligence come from within himself. Batman spent years devoted to his goals, and it paid off. "Study, work hard, and someday you too can be Batman." Okay, that's a bit much, but you get the idea.

But it sure would be cool to fly.

Labels: Fatherhood

"It's better to look fat because you're pregnant, than pregnant because you're fat."

Maryanne's got a baby belly going now, and she's picked up some maternity clothes. She seems to be feeling better and having more energy, but her sense of smell is possibly heightened and she's having problems with cooked meat.

We've been toying with names lately, and Shanna's been my sane sounding board for when Maryanne can't sell me off of a name I like. I do find myself leaning towards more classic or Gaelic names, like Alexander or Finnegan (both of which are currently out). Maryanne's trying to be good and let me have the naming rights, with her having veto power. I basically whined and pleaded for the naming, but in all honesty I think it's something I kind of need to connect with the kid. I've been terrified at the idea of having kids for a long, long time, and being able to name the child makes it feel a little more comfortable for me. And in all honesty, my "naming rights" are about as substantial as me being "king of the castle."

See, my theory is this: a household can only have a single ruling monarch (king or queen, I don't care) since true equality is more of an ideal than a reality. The monarch calls the shots, makes the decisions, and in general is deferred to. The other spouse's role can best be thought of as that of a grand vizier; they offer advice and support, but do not rule. If the grand vizier does a poor job, the monarch replaces them. On the other hand, if the grand vizier feels their insights and talents are being wasted and their initiative is stifled, they'll up and leave. Balance is maintained by respect, which is earned and maintained, rather than through a vague sense of morality or entitlement. Like I said, it's a theory, I wouldn't apply it to every case, but I kind of like it and it seems to be working for us.

Labels: Fatherhood

The main thing I'm starting to notice is how little energy Maryanne has right now. She's a little over six weeks in, and she hardly has energy to sit on the couch and talk. I know the other night we were busy moving tiles and leveling sand as part of fixing the house, and that was some hard work (she swept sand while I picked up and moved the tiles for those wondering), and that probably contributed to her fatigue. But it also seems like the less she moves around the less energy she has to move with; if I can get her to go for a slow walk around the neighborhood she perks up and seems to have more energy.

I don't know how much is residual stress from work, stress from the house (which I think is actually pretty minimal), stress from the pregnancy, being off her meds, or some combination. I do think though that she needs to be moving more rather than less; just not any strenuous movements is all.

We're supposed to be taking Friday off, so we can have a four day weekend for housework. If it's clear, we can repaint the garage and start on the entry door. If it's raining I figure we can touch up the ceiling paint tomorrow and start on the repainting the major interior damage (there isn't much, and I've already put down putty in the holes). It should be fairly easy, although I may try to get her to wear a mask or something for fear of paint fumes.

Labels: Fatherhood

Shanna just dropped off our first baby presents today: three cute little white onesies (and a congratulations card). That should last about half-a-day, before they're all covered in vomit, urine, and feces. And then after the animals are done messing them up, the baby can have its turn.

Seriously though, I find myself realizing that I don't know what the acceptable level of filth to leave on a baby is. I assume the correct answer is "none", but that also means lots of clothing changes? How many onesies (and twosies, and so on) will we need? I'm sure Maryanne knows, so that's comforting, but I have to admit that while I'm still optimistic about the kid(s), there's a growing awareness of my own ignorance about it all.

And for those wondering, the current assumption regarding the cats and a baby is that Pee Wee will flee in sheer terror, Aslan will likely love the child to the point he chokes it by sleeping on the kid's face, and Flower will encourage Aslan to kill the kid so she can go back to being the baby.

Labels: Fatherhood

So the wife needs a new job.

I've known this for some time. Every spring and autumn she gets overloaded with work, becomes miserable, and puts in tons of overtime. She complains about the stress of her workload, and it is stressful and consuming. And I'd tell her to quit, and she'd say she didn't want to because she thought the company she worked for had potential to grow. But eventually she decided she'd had enough, and she would like out but didn't have another job to fall back on.

And then we got pregnant.

And then her boss' improper relations with a co-worker were brought into the light. Everybody knew about it, but nobody talked about it. But now that it's out (thanks to a third party) the co-worker won't drop it and the boss thinks Maryanne needs to make up to the co-worker. And now Maryanne's internalizing more than she should, stressing out over office drama. Her heart rate's up, and she's afraid she'll lose the baby. Meanwhile I'm stressing out to the point I've got a migraine. If I try and tell her she's internalizing too much, she won't listen. She's off her drugs, and I figure that's not helping either.

If she has to quit, I might be able to skim $400 by reducing how much I put in my 401K and paying minimums on all the bills. In a couple of months we'll have an extra $275 a month when her car is paid off. Regardless though, she'll still have to work. I make enough to cover the mortgage and the bills, but it's up to her to cover gas and groceries and whatever extra funds we need (like home repairs or termite insurance). We might be able to skim by on her making $150 a week, but that's still $600-$750 a week she'd need to pull in after taxes.

Like I said, the wife needs a new job, but I think she's going about it for the wrong reasons. Her job's highly stressful, with demanding hours at times, and the company itself is possibly circling the drain. That I understand. Meanwhile she lacks the capacity she needs to deal with stress and social anxiety, and is off of her meds (which took the place of said capacity). And that I just have to try and be supportive about.

I'm trying to be optimistic, and this isn't the baby's fault, but the situation is literally hurting me.

Labels: Fatherhood

Well, Maryanne and I went for a walk around the neighborhood yesterday. It seemed to do her some good; her energy levels appear to be getting better.

We're planning on taking off next Friday to work on the house. We've got a garage door (and front door) that needs repainting, a shed door that needs some repainting, a sun room door that needs a replaced threshold, some interior spots on the walls that need patching and touch-up painting, and a couple of spots on the kitchen and living room ceilings that need touch up repainting from water damage (long story).

Then we need to clean and organize each room, starting with the garage.

It sounds like a lot of work, but it shouldn't be that bad. Maybe I can get somebody to come help us even. (hint hint!)

Labels: Fatherhood

People like to ask "are you hoping for a boy or a girl?" I know the correct answer is "I don't care, as long as it's healthy" but that's a cop out of an answer. Of course, you want the child to be healthy; nobody says "I don't care if it's brain dead as long as it has a penis". Ok, I may have said it, but I was joking.

It's safe to assume everybody wants healthy children, so "I don't care, as long as it's healthy" isn't an answer to the gender question. I'm pretty firmly wanting a boy (and am surprised at how strongly I feel this way), while Maryanne is sliding away from a boy and more towards either I think. In the past I know she's said she'd prefer a boy, not feeling comfortable with "girly stuff", but I think being around her nieces has helped her overcome some of that. My interest in having a son (or sons) is purely a male-chauvinistic macho thing, so that the child can carry on the family name. Failing that, I'll be sure to lovingly raise my daughter to appreciate GI Joe, Transformers, Legos, and zombie flicks; and then I'll secretly punch myself in the genitals to punish them for failing me so.

Labels: Fatherhood

Spent the weekend telling everyone we could about the pregnancy. There's a few people left to tell, but I hate to tell them over the phone or via e-mail or whatever. Looks like I'll have to make a few special trips. On Maryanne's side of the family she's having to keep her sisters from telling her dad's side about the pregnancy, but they're holding their tongues so it's all good.

She's tired a lot, with little energy anymore. I know she's got a lot on her plate, and I think financial issues are starting to stress her out a bit. Personally, as hard a time as she's having this early in I'm wondering if she isn't carrying twins. And there's still the issue of what was causing her tremors this Spring; an MRI is likely out until after she delivers, but renewed tremors could possibly cause a miscarriage and if it's MS or worse she needs to be getting diagnosed and treated ASAP.

But on to brighter topics. Like hating the pets.

Once again, while mowing the yard last night I found myself hating having dogs. It's so consistent that I feel this way after mowing that Maryanne had been doing it most of this summer, just so she wouldn't have to deal with me impotently enraged at having pets who poop, howl, bark, and tear up the yard. The rest of the time we just ignore them, taking them for walks when we feel guilty for leaving them cooped up. Otherwise we feed them, make sure they have water, and I yell at them when they start howling at three in the morning (they like to sing with far away police sirens). It's a shame really, because they are smart and friendly dogs; they just want more attention than we give them and get bored easily.

We're one of those couples who keeps dogs and never really do anything with them. But we can't get rid of them, because that would make Maryanne sad and likely resentful of me. We can't get rid of one, because then the one we kept would be alone pretty much all the time and go nuts (that's why we got Caden, to keep Stormy company). And, to be honest, it feels wrong to "throw away" a pet, even if you can find them a better home. I mention all this because I've always feared that how we (yes we) treat the dogs will reflect on how we will treat our kids. Maryanne's already debating getting rid of the canaries to relieve herself of some of her pet-related responsibilities. And I wonder if we won't have to get rid of the dogs for fear of neglecting them.

On the other hand, we can't get enough of Flower the cat, so maybe we'll treat our kids more like Flower.

Labels: Fatherhood

Woke up around 3:00 this morning. Maryanne was snoring, which means she was sleeping good. I could have woke her up, but she only snores when she's sleeping good. So I went upstairs to sleep instead. But I couldn't sleep. Partially because Aslan decided that it was the perfect time to crawl all over me and make as purr as loud as he could (when he wasn't waving his anus in my face), partially because Right now we've converted the baby's room that came with the house into a guest bedroom. Eventually though the baby room will be the baby room, and I'll have to boot Maryanne to sleep on the couch (I won't fit on it).

We keep going back and forth on listing the house, but as I laid in bed unable to sleep I have to wonder: how long before the three (or four?) of us outgrow this house? Is this a house I want to have kids running around in? Is it better to try and move before we have a child, or wait until a year after?

Labels: Fatherhood

Yesterday Maryanne took the test.

It was positive.

I wanted a second opinion. That's what you always say when you get bad medical advice, but I wanted to be sure that the test was accurate. And today the doctor seemed to think it was an accurate test, or at least his test didn't disagree with the first.

I want a third opinion.

Truthfully the reality hasn't sunk in yet. I mean, yes there's nausea involved already, but as long as I don't think about it too much I feel okay. Maryanne's lucky; she only feels sick in the evenings at this point. I've been ready to puke at any moment for two days now.

She's got some prescription neonatal vitamins. I'm not sure what's in them, but apparently they cost $20 for a month's worth. I wish she'd just eat more vegetables. Or fruits. Or whatever the hell it is that has thiamine. For that matter, what the hell is thiamine?

Now we're planning out how to tell the family so they don't feel left out. I told some of my co-workers already, but to some extent I had to tell someone. I tried telling the wall, and it while it didn't care much less than my coworkers, it was just enough to not provide any relief. I'd go and tell my family, but then Maryanne might get upset that my family knows before hers does. Or if I tell Shanna before my mom, my mom might be upset. I don't know. It doesn't seem like a big deal to me, and Maryanne's taking it pretty well, but who knows.

It's a little scary, but mainly it's the nausea setting in.

Maybe now Maryanne'll actually eat more fruits and vegetables?

Labels: Fatherhood