A Running Tally of Metaphysical Phenomena

Go ahead, read it again. I did. And have, nearly every day. Wow, can you believe it? Incredibly exciting, y/y? Kirsten went in for her annual exam on Friday, and as she was getting ready to head home, the doctor suggested that she stop by the lab on the way out and take a pregnancy test. She took it, and I guess the lab folks just handed her the piece of paper pictured above and told her to have a good day. As she was walking out to the car, she flipped it open: YOU ARE PREGNANT.

Ho
ly
Moly.

No “congratulations,” no “you’re a mom,” no “are you carrying a barf bag?” Just handed her the paper and sent her on her merry way, good game, thanks for coming in. As I thought about it more, though, I realized something that I am very, very thankful for (one of many, many things right now): this is good news for us. It’s not for everyone. On the same day that they saw a happily married girl of almost 24, the lab that does the free pregnancy tests may have seen a girl ten years younger that now has a crisis. They see young girls that are already mothers and are barely hanging on, teens that have to face the worst shame of their lives as they tell parents that are not going to show them love, and even wives that are being given the gift of a family but for one reason or another, maybe through no fault of their own, aren’t in a position to be happy about it yet. Some people are very unhappy because their biggest plans have suddenly been interrupted, some are scared and alone. I’m sure this lab can be a very sober place. And they have no way of knowing the most appropriate reaction from person to person. For that reason, it makes sense that they would slide the paper over the desk and wish everyone a good day. The nice thing, though, is that they also make a lot of people’s dreams come true, or, more accurately, bring light to the reality of those dreams. Some people try for years and years and are just waiting to read those words. Some people, like us, welcome the idea of starting a family and get very excited when it becomes real. That lab is a good place as well.

I know you’re going to ask, so here’s our story. For several months now, we have had conversations wherein Kirsten suggests that she might be pregnant, and we think about what if. And then I think about it, and I start to grin. And then we both get all smily at the thought, and then a lot of hugs, and then Fred Savage makes his grandpa close the book because it’s one of the kissing parts.

And so it was that we arrived at the position that many people find themselves in a short time before a pregnancy:

Well, we weren’t actively trying, but we weren’t actively preventing, so, you know…

And it’s funny what can happen when you don’t actively prevent, right? We were excited about the opportunity, didn’t exactly have the ray set to Baby, but weren’t standing next to a calendar with a thermometer doing the kind of rocket science those pamphlets talked about. And here we are. We are excited, as prepared as any first time parents (i.e., not), and very much attuned to every development. Kirsten is like 60% paranoia (“I can’t eat [anything] anymore!”) and 40% curiosity (“I wonder [everything]!”), and I’m like 100% curiosity, like always (“I wonder [everything, three levels deep]!”) and 100% protective paranoia (“Wait, this says no artificial sweeteners! That means no gum! When did you last have gum?!”). My goal is to find some baby-related reason that Kirsten has to stop using lip gloss. I hate that stuff very, very much.

One complication is that Kirsten has had to give up Laughing Whale. This is a bottled water product made by the Talking Rain company. If you don’t live near here, you might think I’m kidding about both of those names, but I promise you I’m not. Talking Rain is the official seltzer supplier for Microsoft, so I’ve had my fair share of their product myself. (I like the Peach Nectarine. It doesn’t have any calories, which is fine, whatever. But it doesn’t have artificial sweeteners either! Aha! SOLD to the man with the Risk boards at his desk!) They also manufacture Laughing Whale and sell it on board the Washington State Ferries, which we’ve ridden quite a bit this year. Kirsten just LOVES her Laughing Whale. When it gets empty, she activates Laughing Whale Voice Powers, and that’s my clue to refill it, which I don’t mind. It goes everywhere with her, in her purse. Restaurants, church, the library, the car, you name it. And then onto the nightstand to shower us with jocund good will even while we slumber. The only problem is that Laughing Whale was, well, is, plastic, and at least at the moment, people say that drinking from a plastic water bottle for longer than a few days (not continuously) is not good for your baby (again, not continuously; we already know that). So that’s out. Sushi, brie, tuna of any sort: out. Medium steak: gone. Mojitos: trendy. And delicious, and out of the question. What we need to get to the bottom of now is how much of which vitamins is OK, how much is too much (of which), and what are the best nutrition plans, exactly. Some information we’ve found seems to tell different stories, so we’re trusting the doctor to help us make sense of it all.

One thing I don’t think we’re going to trust anymore is any book whatsoever. Our friend Lissa let us peek through some book about “completely organic pregnancy” the other night, and good grief! Here is an excerpt from the book, reproduced as faithfully as my memory will allow. To wit:

“One thing that many expectant mothers do not realize is that simply existing on our planet is a great risk to the success of any pregnancy. Ideally, every pregnant woman should take immediate steps to move to a space station and exist solely on carefully engineered gases that can be piped up daily from special research stations in the agricultural communities of the midwestern United States. If this is not an option, simply construct a completely elements-proof bubble to move into. Care should be taken to avoid PVC in the construction of the bubble, as it could cause many defects in your child, including but not (not ever, certainly not ever) limited to: extra limbs, fused lips, dorsal fins(s), feathers, lifelong diarrhea, fussiness, loss of appetite, tinnitus, premature hair loss, poor driving record, low college entrance exam scores, and mumps. Probably all of the above on a repeated basis, worsening daily.”

The book also listed the color white, the concept of director as auteur, denim, windshields, husbands, routines, illustrations, and relaxation (there was a whole chapter on the importance of avoiding this) as things that would probably cause your womb to go up in flames and take you with it.

Needless to say, we didn’t borrow that book. We’ll just get What to Expect When You’re Expecting (subtitle: “Danger, That’s What”) at some point and ruin our mental health worrying for the next nine months.

By the way, please don’t ever tell anyone that we are “expecting.” Kirsten is pregnant, I am excited and protective, and we are looking forward to a baby. In a pinch, you are allowed to say that “we” are pregnant, as long as you don’t do it too often. But “expect” is a transitive verb. That means it needs an object. We are expecting a baby. We are not “expecting.” Thank you. End of rant.

Another funny conversation you’ll need to know to understand future terminology.
The other day, at Target:

Kirsten: Raaaahr, my throat is so dry!
Me: Just remember to keep drinking your Laughing Whale, dear.
(This was before The Great Read.)
Kirsten: I am! I have been all day. It doesn’t help.
Me: Well, remember, you are drinking for two.
Kirsten: That’s so ridiculous. It’s like, the size of… a… barley! And it’s drinking all my water!

So now, in addition to “the baby” and “the muffin,” we have “the barley,” which actually is probably our preferred appellation at this point. For example: “No, close the window. The barley doesn’t like the cold.”

You can probably see that I’m excited and a little giddy and really having fun with all of this. I love thinking about what’s coming, and calling Kirsten “you guys,” and talking to her tummy. But really, I am taking it very seriously as well. I’ve been a lot of things in the relatively short time I’ve been alive, but a father is not one of those things. I’ve gotten some input and some great examples from my brothers, and I honestly believe there is no father on the planet that’s as great a dad as mine is. Not to mention the countless other people I can learn so much from. Some I know, some I hear about, some I have read about. But even with all of them coming before me, I’ll eventually have to take this on myself and be responsible for more than I ever have been. It’s daunting. It’s also very exciting. I turned out alright, I guess, but I think of who I was and what I was up to at various points along the way and know that if my child also turns out be a human being, then I am in for a lot of heartache. At the same time, I can’t think of a bigger joy. I may not be prepared, but you better believe I’m ready!

Kirsten is going in for her first ultrasound within about a week or so, and after that, we’ll have a little better idea of how far along we are, when the storks will be revving up their engines, and how much time we have to figure out where we’ll live. I’ll make sure to keep everyone posted, and as I get pictures and things along the way, I’ll be sure to share them with you. Thanks for reading so much this time and for being excited with us!

Much love to you all,

Kent