Change is good...

Ah, Friday night in the big city. What guy doesn't love it.

Champagne. Stretch limos. The velvet rope. A model on each arm. Simply the best.

But with a baby on the way, lately I've been thinking I may need to start preparing myself for the fact that some things will change. I may need to "tweak" my lifestyle a bit so it's more suitable for a husband and "Daddy-to-be." And cut back on a few things. Like the limos, for example. (Which I'm actually ok with. Seriously, with all the talk about GREEN living and the environment, it really is irresponsible to be carting your models around from club to club in a gas guzzler like that...)

Anyway, all I'm saying is that a man's got to ease into change. It can't just hit him over the head like a ton of bricks. Or in this case, a Bugaboo FROG Stroller with flowing suspension, a 3-position tilting seat, and swivel wheel suspension for easy maneuverabilty.

Or can it?

Case in point: December 28th. The Friday after Christmas. Baby's 'R Us.

I'm not really sure how it happened that at 7:30 PM on a Friday night I was on a subway from Brooklyn to Manhattan to Baby's 'R Us with my pregant wife...but before I knew it I was traveling up the escalator in search of a "Snoogle."

The nice thing about Baby's 'R Us is that like the clubs in New York, it does have different floors with different themes.

But unlike the clubs in New York, all the women were pregnant. And most of the guys looked tired. Dead tired. And, of course, there was no bartender.

Anyway, you get the point. I snapped a few photos of the trip.

Guys, close your eyes. Ladies, enjoy Baby's 'R Us in all it's glory on a Friday night in The Big Apple...




This little gem is a "Top Pick." It's a breast feeding system. And it scares the hell out of me!




Not a BMW or Audi in the bunch...




















Rhea taking a test drive



















I love how they market all of the products at Baby's 'R Us. Such cute names. Like "Teeny Towels. " And "Bundle Me Khaki." This one's my favorite. It's called "My brest friend." Without the "a."






Me, chillin' out in the VIP lounge...














One Snoogle.

Mission accomplished.

Seriously, after seeing how happy Rhea was after we got this thing home, there was no denying it. This was one of the best Friday nights out in NYC I ever had.

Change is good...

In the blink of an eye

This morning as I climbed out of the subway, a man approached me and said "What a pretty baby." Now, maybe it's because second trimesters are renowned for making smart women feel like they got stuck with Paris Hilton's intellect, but I looked at him and scowled- "How do you know?" Was this guy prescient? Some kind of baby whisperer?

I stood there staring down at my belly. A few seconds later, it dawned on me that under my heavy winter coat, no one can see my bump just yet. He wasn't actually talking about my baby- he was talking about me!

Now, living in this crazy city, a woman can bear a strong resemblance to a cyclops and still get hit on incessantly, so it's no boast to say that I get my fair share of come- ons. In the last few months, though, whenever I'm approached on the street, I'm shocked. To myself I haughtily think, "Can't they tell that I am above such tawdry approaches? I'm building a a human life here, a placenta and an assortment of a trillion cells that makes one person, unlike any who came before or after. Is he really trying to hit a sister up for the digits?! "

No telling how puffed up I would be if I were carrying multiples.

But then my progressive feminism tapped me on the shoulder and asked- "And why can't you be pregnant and super sexy? Don't fall into the trap of being a breeder. You better put some lipstick on and stop acting like fertility is all you're good for!"

So I dutifully dredged around in my hideously overcrowded purse (only yours truly walks around with a 600 page novel and a copy of Us weekly in a shoulder bag) but all I could come up with is some chapstick I got for free at the dentist's office.

With an ironic smile, I looked at my sensible two inch heels and my brand x chapstick and thought- " How things do change in the blink of an eye."

Bump's First Christmas Tree...

"Size matters not. Impatient you are."

Let me begin by saying, we're educated people. And we did do our homework. We googled, read some articles, checked qualifications, education, board certifications, hospital affiliations. We even had a one-on-one interview.

So by the time we had selected a doctor to guide us through one of the most important stages of our lives, we were feeling pretty good.

Part of having a good pregnancy and childbirth is working with an obstetrician you can talk freely with and with whom you feel safe and relaxed. The other, probably more important part, is having an obstetrician who can count. Sorry, that was mean. (Just kidding doc...)

Anyway, on our first visit to "our guy" (did I mentioned he's the Vice Chair of Obstetrics at a prominent NY hospital) he quite confidently told us after the exam that we were only 5 weeks pregnant. We both looked at him a bit cross-eyed, since Rhea had done a few calculations of her own and had determined rather unscientifically, that she was about 10 weeks pregnant. When he asked her why she thought that, she said, "well, my belly's pretty big and I can't button my pants."

To which he responded like Yoda explaining the intricacies of "the force" to a young Jedi, "Size matters not. Impatient you are." (Actually, what he said was that the size of the belly varies significantly depending on the woman, and that the size of Rhea's bump was due to hormones.)

At our last visit he told us we were around 10 weeks. So going into our sonogram yesterday, we were under the assumption that we were somewhere around 12-13 weeks. When the image of our baby flashed onto the screen, I said, "wow, that thing looks pretty big for 12 weeks!" At which point our periontologist arched one Russian eyebrow, and said, "12 weeks? This baby 17 weeks." She did a few measurements and confirmed her suspicion.


Now, I'm not saying our Doctor doesn't know what he's doing. But what I am saying is that when your doctor predicts how far along you are in your pregnancy, he or she should probably fall within a certain margin of error. Like 1 or 2%. Or in pregnancy-land, 1 or 2 weeks.

Our guy was off by almost 6 weeks!

That's like Gallup reporting that Hillary or Barack have the nomination sewn up, and waking up the next morning and finding out that Chris Dodd won.

Anyway, the good news is that everything was looking perfect. On Monday we'll be calling Yoda for an explanation.

To see the baby, click on the video below. The thing coming down toward the baby is the sonogram device that the periontologist presses into the belly. If you watch carefully at the beginning, you can see it come down and then the baby's arm reaches up to push it away.

Belly Check: Dec 5, 2007.

So, when do I get my ultrasound?

I didn't really realize how important an ultrasound was to a pregnant woman.

I always just assumed the primary purpose was for medical reasons. Like determining the sex of the baby or to make sure that everything was where it was supposed to be.

After Rhea and I got pregnant, I figured we'd get a sonogram when the doctor told us we were going to have one. That's why he's the Doctor. Seemed pretty straight forward.

But leading up to last week's appointment (our second) Rhea was feeling anxious. Many of her friends had gotten sonograms much earlier on in their pregnancies. In some cases as early as 6 weeks. So, here we are going into our second appointment about 10 weeks along and we still hadn't had one. I think she really wanted to know that everything was ok.

Anyway, we went into the exam room and he came in and did all the poking and prodding. "10 weeks," he confirmed. "Everything looks good. Meet me in my office and we'll have a quick
chat."

He took out the results of Rhea's blood tests from the last appointment. The good news is that Rhea was negative for all of the following: HIV, Syphilis, Hepatitis, Gonorrhea, Herpes, HPV.

After ticking off the results of the blood test he asked "So, questions for me?"

Rhea quickly responded with a direct and fiery "Yeah, when do I get my ultrasound?"

Without a hiccup he said, "We can schedule that for you today."

Smart man our Our Doctor. He usually likes to spend some time explaining how and when things generally should happen. But in this case, I think he saw the look in her eye and knew it would probably be best not to give her a long drawn out medical explanation about how all women and pregnancies are different and some women get ultrasounds sooner, and some later.

When we got home I read that before the ultrasound, women had less reason to feel attached to their baby during the early stages of pregnancy. But now they say a woman who sees a sonogram image of her unborn child feels more attached to her baby and wants to know and protect it more.

So, we get our first glimpse of The Beck Bump on Dec 15 and will be sure to post the photos here.

Oh, and is it me, or does the ultrasound machine bear a striking resemblance to R2D2?

The Attack of the Prune Fetus

Rhea here. I've spent most of this weekend lying around in the bed, on the bed and occasionally on the couch. Talk about Gulliver being done in by the Lilliputians. I have a fetus roughly the size of a prune in my uterus and I am no longer in charge.

My stomach revolts at its beckoning. Literally thousands of dollars of shoes remain lonely and unworn because of dizzy spells and waves of nausea commanded, like Patton, by the Prune Fetus and I can't risk breaking my neck on the 2 train if I pass out wearing 3' stiletto boots.
Scot's right, every few minutes I do look down and touch my belly -- except Prune and I aren't bonding. I ask it the same thing over and over again...What the hell are you doing in there?!

What's Rhea Eating?

Let's be honest. There's not alot of excitement when your wife is pregnant. You pretty much hang around and wait...

I figured this Blog would be a nice way of keeping myself busy for the next 7 1/2 months. And it'll also help keep all our friends and family up-to-date on the progress with "The Expanding Belly."

I've never done a blog before. So I really can't promise it will be anything worth reading. It's not likely to be well-organzied or easy to navigate. It won't win any awards. And I'm sure a modifier will be mispaced from time to time. Fortunately, Rhea has agreed to post her thoughts here too so you won't just have to listen to me blather on endlessly...

I suspect that once in a while Rhea or I will write about a significant event like a doctors appointment, a sonogram, or the purchase of our first crib. But more often than not it will probably just be me commenting on alot of random stuff. Like what Rhea had for dinner or what she's watching on TV.

Which reminds me, Rhea just ate a single grape from the bowl on the table. Then she stretched on the couch. Every so often she lifts up the blanket and touches her belly. (I'm not sure she knows I'm watching her or that she's even aware that she's doing it. It's pretty cute though.)

Rhea wants tacos. Gotta run...