Today, I found out that a guy I went to middle school and high school with died of an aortic dissection. We were the same age, and this realization hit me really hard. I could go at any time. My work could be through, and God could call me home. Death is not reserved for older people.
I don't fear death, but my perspective on life has changed with the coming of our baby. I want to be here to experience life with my child. I want to have the time to impart my wisdom and to watch my baby grow up and ignore it. I want to have time to play with my child and to laugh at all of the innocent ways it sees the world. I want to tell my baby stories, make it laugh, hold it when it cries, and listen to it talk about its day. I don't want to just be a donor. I want to be a father.
I don't fear death, but I fear missing out on life.
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Monday, July 30, 2018
Feel the Power
Even though I know it's not accurate, I can't help but picturing the baby surrounded by a protective bubble with energy pulsing and emanating from it while a Klingon Warbird tries to breach it. We just need to hook up the baby with some offensive weaponry, like photon torpedoes and lasers, and we'll be all set!
Sunday, July 29, 2018
Constant Grind
The constant grind of the routine is starting have an adverse effect on our relationship. My wife is always in pain and discomfort from the constant poking of the shots and resulting bruises that crop up the next day. I'm always exhausted and busy from the constant, never-ending housework that needs to be done. It's like we are just getting through every day, but we aren't enjoying it or each other.
There is no room or desire for romance it seems. We should be enjoying this process and using it to grow closer together. But there is nothing enjoyable about it. It's hard, and it's exhausting. I see the ease and carefreeness that CC and JC approach their own pregnancy. They aren't stressed or worried about it, but that's probably because it's so much easier for them. There are no twice-a-day shots. There is no extra housework or extra pulling the load. Nothing really changed in their lives. I'm not saying it's better, because I really don't think they are better off than us from a relationship standpoint, but it's definitely easier. Sometimes I would just like to relax and enjoy myself a little, instead of always being stuck in this rigid routine.
There is no room or desire for romance it seems. We should be enjoying this process and using it to grow closer together. But there is nothing enjoyable about it. It's hard, and it's exhausting. I see the ease and carefreeness that CC and JC approach their own pregnancy. They aren't stressed or worried about it, but that's probably because it's so much easier for them. There are no twice-a-day shots. There is no extra housework or extra pulling the load. Nothing really changed in their lives. I'm not saying it's better, because I really don't think they are better off than us from a relationship standpoint, but it's definitely easier. Sometimes I would just like to relax and enjoy myself a little, instead of always being stuck in this rigid routine.
Thursday, July 26, 2018
Hazmat Suit
Wife: "I'm going to make everyone wash their hands several times before I let them touch the baby. I'm going to be that kind of mom."
Me: "If we over-protect the baby, then it'll never develop immunities to things."
Wife: "I'm still going to make people wash their hands."
Me: "I can agree to hand-washing, but I'm not going to make them wear a hazmat suit. Although, I may wear one when I change diapers!"
Wife [snickering]: "I am actually picturing that right now."
Wednesday, July 25, 2018
Mechanical Redundancies
8:45 p.m. - Exactly
I stop whatever I'm doing, go into the kitchen, and turn on the kettle. While the water is boiling, I grab the two ice packs and go into the bathroom. I lay out two syringes and three different needle sizes on a towel on the bathroom sink. I pull out the two different vials of medicine and place them there as well. I lay out four alcohol swabs, a gauze pad, and a folded piece of facial tissue.
I then run back into the kitchen to grab the now-boiling water, while my wife starts filling the syringes with medicine. I come back into the bathroom with the water and pour it into a little dish by the sink, so my wife can drop the vial of Progesterone into it. I then go back into the kitchen to heat up the "heaty bag" while my wife ices the injection spot. I return, and I wait.
Then, it's clean, inject, swab, and ice for the first injection. Immediately, we have to ice the second injection spot, which is on her backside. After the normal squabble between us about the proper location of the ice pack (she always thinks I go too low), I apply cold pressure to the spot, while we wait for the progesterone to heat up.
Then, it's clean, inject, swab, gauze, tissue, heat, and massage. This warm massage goes on for ten minutes or so, while my wife winces, cries, moans, and sometimes cusses me out.
It's the same routine every day. Exactly the same way. The only thing that changes is the location of the injection site. It's become almost mechanical. My body knows. My internal clock knows. I have actually fallen asleep on the couch before, and my body woke with a start at 8:45 p.m., so I wouldn't miss the injections. It's like my subconscious is just waiting to begin the routine, even as my wife's is dreading it.
As hard as it might be on me, it's even harder on her. I think she's the bravest person I know to step in that room every night knowing what's coming. I don't know if I could do it. Maybe that's why God put me on the other side of the needle. It's also exhausting to have to get up and endure the process for 30 minutes before you can finally relax for the evening.
In the beginning, my wife handled all of the prep work, but as time wore on, I could see that she was getting more and more worn out. It doesn't help that one of the side-effects of the medicine is insomnia! So, I have taken to letting her take an extra five minutes of sleep on the couch while I handle the prep work. It's not much, but it's something to help her.
We both can't wait until the injections are over...
I stop whatever I'm doing, go into the kitchen, and turn on the kettle. While the water is boiling, I grab the two ice packs and go into the bathroom. I lay out two syringes and three different needle sizes on a towel on the bathroom sink. I pull out the two different vials of medicine and place them there as well. I lay out four alcohol swabs, a gauze pad, and a folded piece of facial tissue.
I then run back into the kitchen to grab the now-boiling water, while my wife starts filling the syringes with medicine. I come back into the bathroom with the water and pour it into a little dish by the sink, so my wife can drop the vial of Progesterone into it. I then go back into the kitchen to heat up the "heaty bag" while my wife ices the injection spot. I return, and I wait.
Then, it's clean, inject, swab, and ice for the first injection. Immediately, we have to ice the second injection spot, which is on her backside. After the normal squabble between us about the proper location of the ice pack (she always thinks I go too low), I apply cold pressure to the spot, while we wait for the progesterone to heat up.
Then, it's clean, inject, swab, gauze, tissue, heat, and massage. This warm massage goes on for ten minutes or so, while my wife winces, cries, moans, and sometimes cusses me out.
It's the same routine every day. Exactly the same way. The only thing that changes is the location of the injection site. It's become almost mechanical. My body knows. My internal clock knows. I have actually fallen asleep on the couch before, and my body woke with a start at 8:45 p.m., so I wouldn't miss the injections. It's like my subconscious is just waiting to begin the routine, even as my wife's is dreading it.
As hard as it might be on me, it's even harder on her. I think she's the bravest person I know to step in that room every night knowing what's coming. I don't know if I could do it. Maybe that's why God put me on the other side of the needle. It's also exhausting to have to get up and endure the process for 30 minutes before you can finally relax for the evening.
In the beginning, my wife handled all of the prep work, but as time wore on, I could see that she was getting more and more worn out. It doesn't help that one of the side-effects of the medicine is insomnia! So, I have taken to letting her take an extra five minutes of sleep on the couch while I handle the prep work. It's not much, but it's something to help her.
We both can't wait until the injections are over...
Saturday, July 21, 2018
Purple People-Eater
My wife finally decided that she's had enough of being stuck in the stomach, so last night we switched to her thigh. Today, she has an enormous, dark-purple bruise on her leg. It looks like a birthmark or something, and she claims it almost hurts worse than her stomach.
I guess the upside, if you can find one, is that she no longer has the waistline of her pants pushing on her bruises. I don't suppose she'll be able to walk around in a bathing suit for a while though!
I guess the upside, if you can find one, is that she no longer has the waistline of her pants pushing on her bruises. I don't suppose she'll be able to walk around in a bathing suit for a while though!
Friday, July 20, 2018
OBGYN
She was extremely nice and reassuring, exactly what you want in an OBGYN. She was the complete opposite personality to the doctor that handled our fertility treatments. Both of them outstanding doctors; but this doctor was nurturing and sweet, whereas the other was more to-the-point science and medicine. What is needed in each stage, I guess.
We also had another sonogram today where we actually got a better magnified view of the baby. I love the picture, because it looks like the baby has a little Buddha belly protruding from it. Like it's saying, "Yes, I look like a mini spud with arms, and legs, and a head...what's it to you?!"
Thursday, July 19, 2018
Castrovenes
As I was driving to work today, I realized that with all of our planning and preparing for the baby, we had forgotten to do one of the most important things. We didn't assign the baby a racing nickname! It's a tradition that my wife and I started, and we have to pass it on to the next generation.
Early on in our marriage, after a particularly bad shorts-peeing episode in the car, I was commenting on the speed and recklessness of my mother-in-law's driving. She was flying down narrow roads with cars parked on both sides and barely a paper's breadth of space between our car mirrors and theirs. I had strapped myself into the backseat with every seat belt I could find and was holding onto the OS bar like my life depended on it. My wife mentioned later that she and her brother used to call her mother "Hakkinen" after Mika Hakkinen, the Finnish Formula One race car driver.
It didn't take long for me to realize that my wife had inherited her mother's love for speed and recklessness as she whipped her car through the throngs of big-city traffic. When I wasn't screaming like a little girl, or asking her to slow down, I started to call her "Andretti" after Mario Andretti, the Italian Formula One race car driver. Instead of making her feel bad about scaring the urine out of me, she relished the name like a badge of honor.
A year ago when I got my Nissan Maxima and finally had a car with power (the Toyota Corolla I had before being a laughable attempt at power), I started to drive with a little more speed and aggressiveness as well. It's like a right of passage or something, because the moment that you embrace this, you have to be dubbed with a racing name. Mine is "Toretto" after Dominic Toretto, the fictional protagonist of The Fast and the Furious franchise.
And while I know that our baby is far from driving yet, I still feel like it needs a racing nickname. So, I'm going to call it "Castrovenes" after Helio Castrovenes, the Brazilian Indy race car driver. Now, all the baby has to do is live up to the name and make us proud!
Monday, July 16, 2018
Morning Sickness?
My wife cannot do anything normal. She is experiencing the usual nausea and upset stomach that you hear pregnant women going through. However, she's not experiencing it in the morning. She's getting it in the afternoon!
And every once in a while, just to throw me off, she gets sick in the middle of the night. She wakes up from a sound sleep to throw up at like 2:00 a.m. It's disconcerting, because it's chaotic. I can't get into a stable routine or expect it. It crops up at the most random times.
I know she's doing it just to be different. She wants the spotlight to be on her and have a unique pregnancy. I'm not sure how she managed to do it, but I know she altered her chemicals somehow to change the timing of the sickness. I mean she is a geneticist after all, so I wouldn't put it past her to do something like that!
And every once in a while, just to throw me off, she gets sick in the middle of the night. She wakes up from a sound sleep to throw up at like 2:00 a.m. It's disconcerting, because it's chaotic. I can't get into a stable routine or expect it. It crops up at the most random times.
I know she's doing it just to be different. She wants the spotlight to be on her and have a unique pregnancy. I'm not sure how she managed to do it, but I know she altered her chemicals somehow to change the timing of the sickness. I mean she is a geneticist after all, so I wouldn't put it past her to do something like that!
Friday, July 13, 2018
Belly-spenders
I'm being introduced to a whole new world of apparel!
Thursday, July 12, 2018
Counting Every Blessing
The devil was trying to destroy our hope today. We encountered 3 major accidents and one stalled car all blocking at least one lane of traffic on our way to the clinic. Well, it's not going to work, devil! We will not be deterred. We have God on our side, so bugger off!
UPDATE: Today was our first ultrasound. The baby was just a little peanut-shaped white blob on the screen, but you could see its little heart going like mad, just a flickering of black and white. The nurse took some measurements and said the baby is around the size of our pinky finger right now. It's just this tiny little thing, but it's alive! God's making it, forming it, putting all its unique little feature together into a beautiful configuration. And it's our little miracle to love!
The coolest part was when the nurse turned on the sound, and we could actually hear its little heartbeat. It was beating so fast. I was so excited that it was probably going as fast as mine! My wife lost it when the sound came over the speakers. All of her pent-up emotions and anxieties came flooding out, and the tears streamed down her face, turning it black with smudged mascara. It seemed so surreal until that moment. Like it wasn't really a living thing in your mind until that little thumping changed it.
The song "Counting Every Blessing" by Rend Collective perfectly summarizes how we feel:
"I was blind, now I'm seeing in color
I was dead, now I'm living forever
I had failed, but you were my redeemer
I've been blessed beyond all measure
I was lost, now I'm found by the father
I've been changed from a ruin to treasure
I've been given a hope and a future
I've been blessed beyond all measure
I am counting every blessing, counting every blessing
Letting go and trusting when I cannot see
I am counting every blessing, counting every blessing
Surely every season you are good to me
You were there in the valley of shadows
You were there in the depth of my sorrows
You're my strength, my hope for tomorrow
I've been blessed beyond all measure
I am counting every blessing, counting every blessing
Letting go and trusting when I cannot see
I am counting every blessing, counting every blessing
Surely every season you are good to me
Surely your goodness pursues me
Surely your heart is still for me
I will remember your mercies all my days
Through every storm and gale
I am counting every blessing, counting every blessing
Letting go and trusting when I cannot see
I am counting every blessing, counting every blessing
Surely every season you are good to me"
UPDATE: Today was our first ultrasound. The baby was just a little peanut-shaped white blob on the screen, but you could see its little heart going like mad, just a flickering of black and white. The nurse took some measurements and said the baby is around the size of our pinky finger right now. It's just this tiny little thing, but it's alive! God's making it, forming it, putting all its unique little feature together into a beautiful configuration. And it's our little miracle to love!
The coolest part was when the nurse turned on the sound, and we could actually hear its little heartbeat. It was beating so fast. I was so excited that it was probably going as fast as mine! My wife lost it when the sound came over the speakers. All of her pent-up emotions and anxieties came flooding out, and the tears streamed down her face, turning it black with smudged mascara. It seemed so surreal until that moment. Like it wasn't really a living thing in your mind until that little thumping changed it.
The song "Counting Every Blessing" by Rend Collective perfectly summarizes how we feel:
"I was blind, now I'm seeing in color
I was dead, now I'm living forever
I had failed, but you were my redeemer
I've been blessed beyond all measure
I was lost, now I'm found by the father
I've been changed from a ruin to treasure
I've been given a hope and a future
I've been blessed beyond all measure
I am counting every blessing, counting every blessing
Letting go and trusting when I cannot see
I am counting every blessing, counting every blessing
Surely every season you are good to me
You were there in the valley of shadows
You were there in the depth of my sorrows
You're my strength, my hope for tomorrow
I've been blessed beyond all measure
I am counting every blessing, counting every blessing
Letting go and trusting when I cannot see
I am counting every blessing, counting every blessing
Surely every season you are good to me
Surely your goodness pursues me
Surely your heart is still for me
I will remember your mercies all my days
Through every storm and gale
I am counting every blessing, counting every blessing
Letting go and trusting when I cannot see
I am counting every blessing, counting every blessing
Surely every season you are good to me"
Wednesday, July 4, 2018
The Folded Paper
I came across this folded piece of paper today. It was a note that I had written around fourteen years ago, shortly after we got married. I'm not sure why these words were laid on my heart so long ago, but as I walked down the street, I pulled out whatever scrap of paper I could find and wrote this:
"My heart aches every time I say your name, because I am already longing for your presence in my life. I hope you have all the good characteristics that your mother and I have to offer. I hope you are well and that you get to experience the true essence of life. But most of all, I hope God makes me into the kind of father that you deserve...a godly man worthy to be an example to you."
"My heart aches every time I say your name, because I am already longing for your presence in my life. I hope you have all the good characteristics that your mother and I have to offer. I hope you are well and that you get to experience the true essence of life. But most of all, I hope God makes me into the kind of father that you deserve...a godly man worthy to be an example to you."
Tuesday, July 3, 2018
Filling the Nest
We met Raisa for dinner last night to celebrate our good news and my wife's belated birthday. After we ate, we went out to see the location of her new house. It's just an empty lot at the moment, but it reminded my wife and I of the time when we were standing in front of our own empty lot. Raisa was there with us, and she suggested that we take a moment to pray over our lot.
We prayed a prayer of thanks for being blessed with all of the pieces that came together to afford us the possibility of getting our home. The down payment from the sale of our other home, which my wife added to and grew into an even larger amount. The unexpected entrance of Raisa into our lives as our real estate agent, which sparked not only our home purchase, but a friendship as well. The negotiation over the price that went from a non-existent fight to a relatively painless process. Blessing after blessing, all added up.
And when we were done praying, Raisa said these words that I will never forget. "You are building the nest, and God will fill it." It has been almost four years since she uttered those words, and I doubt if she really knew what a prophecy that would be. But here we are anxiously, impatiently awaiting the nine months until God finally fills it.
We prayed a prayer of thanks for being blessed with all of the pieces that came together to afford us the possibility of getting our home. The down payment from the sale of our other home, which my wife added to and grew into an even larger amount. The unexpected entrance of Raisa into our lives as our real estate agent, which sparked not only our home purchase, but a friendship as well. The negotiation over the price that went from a non-existent fight to a relatively painless process. Blessing after blessing, all added up.
And when we were done praying, Raisa said these words that I will never forget. "You are building the nest, and God will fill it." It has been almost four years since she uttered those words, and I doubt if she really knew what a prophecy that would be. But here we are anxiously, impatiently awaiting the nine months until God finally fills it.
Monday, July 2, 2018
5873
That's the hCG level that we were at today when the nurse called to confirm that we are truly pregnant! We have a long road yet to go, but praise God for getting us to this point. He is an awesome God! I never doubted for a minute that it would happen (when is a different story), but I know that it's a big weight off my wife's shoulders...and a belated happy birthday present as well.
I have been telling a select few people today, those that have been praying for us and pressing into the life with us. When I tell them, they seem to be disappointed by my reaction, like they're expecting something more from me, and I'm letting them down. I'm not breaking down in tears or doing cartwheels. I'm not drawing out the suspense by oversharing details. I just say it straight up like I'm sharing any other piece of information. I don't really "feel" anything.
Honestly, I'm not sure how I am supposed to feel or react. Don't get me wrong, it's a huge deal...I'm just not surprised by it. I always expected it. Every time we went through it, I expected that this was the one. I was disappointed when it didn't happen, but I put it behind me and went into the next one expecting it to be the one as well. I always believed that God could and would do it.
Maybe we have just been going through this so long that I'm callused. Maybe I'm just exhausted from being everything right now - husband, wife, maid, cook, provider. Maybe I need something tangible, like a sonogram picture or to hear the sound of its little heartbeat. Maybe the reality of it hasn't really sunken in yet. I don't know what this means for me or my life yet. I haven't experienced this before.
I guess if I was to feel something, it's a protective instinct. I am completely focused on protecting my wife and my baby and making the experience as easy and stress-free as possible. It consumes me. I curse every bump in the road. I fuss over my wife constantly to make sure she's comfortable and doesn't need anything. I worry that she's doing too much, even if she's just cooking dinner. I feel like the bodyguard. Yeah. I guess that's why I'm so serious right now. I'm on high protection alert.
I have been telling a select few people today, those that have been praying for us and pressing into the life with us. When I tell them, they seem to be disappointed by my reaction, like they're expecting something more from me, and I'm letting them down. I'm not breaking down in tears or doing cartwheels. I'm not drawing out the suspense by oversharing details. I just say it straight up like I'm sharing any other piece of information. I don't really "feel" anything.
Honestly, I'm not sure how I am supposed to feel or react. Don't get me wrong, it's a huge deal...I'm just not surprised by it. I always expected it. Every time we went through it, I expected that this was the one. I was disappointed when it didn't happen, but I put it behind me and went into the next one expecting it to be the one as well. I always believed that God could and would do it.
Maybe we have just been going through this so long that I'm callused. Maybe I'm just exhausted from being everything right now - husband, wife, maid, cook, provider. Maybe I need something tangible, like a sonogram picture or to hear the sound of its little heartbeat. Maybe the reality of it hasn't really sunken in yet. I don't know what this means for me or my life yet. I haven't experienced this before.
I guess if I was to feel something, it's a protective instinct. I am completely focused on protecting my wife and my baby and making the experience as easy and stress-free as possible. It consumes me. I curse every bump in the road. I fuss over my wife constantly to make sure she's comfortable and doesn't need anything. I worry that she's doing too much, even if she's just cooking dinner. I feel like the bodyguard. Yeah. I guess that's why I'm so serious right now. I'm on high protection alert.
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