Danger Natividad

If we have a boy, I'm seriously thinking of naming him "Danger". We'd call him "Dan" for short or "Danny Boy" when he's little. It started out as a joke between Carrie and I, but its starting to grow on me. Danger Natividad. Think about it.

It's a girl!

Or a boy! We don't know. Carrie and I are actually debating whether or not we should find out during our next ultrasound.

After the first ultrasound, I could have cared less about the gender of the baby. I just want a healthy, happy child. Although, that was the thought until Richie called to congratulate. He says, "Awesome, now Ashton will have a hot filipino/chinese/white girlfriend in high school".

A cold sweat came over my body.

My kid isn't even born yet. We don't even know the gender, but the thought of my baby daughter dating anyone scared the shit out of me. Cause lets face it, when you have a boy, you worry about one penis. With a girl, you worry about all the penises in the world. I didn't sleep that night.I checked and double checked the online Chinese baby gender predictor charts. I tried to remember what position we were in when we conceived. I woke Carrie up in the middle of the night and asked her "are you craving salty or sweet foods?"

My only consolation is the ultrasound is several months before the due date. That should give me enough time to apply for a gun license.

Baby's first OB appointment

The day before our prenatal appointment Carrie says "you know they stick this thing in my thing, right?".

Unfortunately, not much can prepare a man for his first Ob/Gyn appointment.

I was expecting to have my arm around my wife's shoulder, being the supportive husband as the doc scans her belly. Both of us nodding attentively as the doc explains how this cute little gray speck on the screen is our kids fingers and how this cute little speck is his little button nose. Both of us in awe of and inspired by the wonders of baby making. In truth there isn't much inspiring about the Ob office. I guess I'm expecting everyone to be just as psyched as we are: giving us huge smiles, knowing nods and high fives. What we got was a bunch of people in pajamas waiting for their lunch break.

You have to admit that the husband is definitely the forgotten party at the OB/Gyn office. When you're in the waiting room and they call your wife's name, they're just calling for your wife, not you. That's right, fake stretch as you sit back down buddy. The whole appointment is like this. When instructions were given by the doc or nurse, they looked at Carrie and never me. The fact that I'm half the reason why we were there is treated with the same sterility as a lab test. For our next kid i'm charging Carrie a co-pay for successful implantation.

At least the reading material was interesting. Brochure after brochure of why you shouldn't smoke crack when you're pregnant, or shoot heroin when you're pregnant, or do some other drug when you're pregnant. The marketer in me began to think "what demographic am I in?" and who at the brochure shop visualized a mom-to-be saying "I know I can't have lunch meat, sushi, hot dogs, and.....wait a minute....I can't smoke crack? Good thing I ran into this brochure at my prenatal visit". I think the medical community's biggest crutch is the tri-fold brochure. Have 5 health problems? Walk out with 5 brochures. But I digress. When you finally get to the exam room, the only place to sit is on your wife's neatly folded clothes next to the metal ducks. Then you think, "she doesn't fold clothes this neatly at home".

The exam rooms are roughly the size of an office cubicle. Add in a doc, nurse, mother to be, sperm donor and a stack of nicely folded clothes, and the new guy is left to struggle to find an appropriate viewing spot let alone try to be all supportive and shit by holding hands with the wife.

After the breast exam (awkward), the doc puts a "thing" on the "thing" that they're going to stick in Carrie's "thing".

Then the doc makes it disappear.

Almost immediately you hear a sound I can only describe as a window shutter slowly hitting an underwater house repeatedly. And all that shit you had to get through to hear it doesn't matter anymore. Even though you're sitting on the other side of the room on your wife's nicely folded clothes, there is nothing more clear or astonishing then the first time you hear your kid's heartbeat. It hits you that you and your wife are in for a wonderful adventure together. And you hope the doctor has a brochure for this.

update:I have to clarify that since the first appointment, our doc and the nurses have been nothing short of spectacular. Eye contact with the husband, warming of the hands (you know what I'm talking about), and overall being attentive, assertive, flexible, humorous and awesome.

The waiting game

I downloaded an app to chart my wife's ovulation.

Its on my work phone so the IT dept knows when my wife's last period was. They also know when she's most fertile.

Scary thought.