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Ron Brounes
2319A
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FOR WHAT
IT’S WORTH
| “Awaiting Baby Eunice (Brounes)” |
Issue 78 |
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| By: Ron Brounes |
September 2006 |
Warning: The
following newsletter contains certain graphic materials that should be viewed
by mature audiences only. (Unfortunately, that pretty much knocks out my entire
mailing list.)
Oh…the hardships of pregnancy. Sure, I knew a bit about the expected weight
gain (though if babies only weigh about eight pounds at birth, why do mothers
gain considerably more?). I had even heard
something about the strange cravings (and can attest that the pickles and ice
cream combo isn’t half bad). But, I
wasn’t prepared for many of the other accompanying symptoms: constant
tiredness, swollen feet, stretch marks, heartburn, and excessive flatulence. (How’s that for graphic?) While Barb has come through these past eight
months having experienced very few of the above, no one warned me about the sympathy
symptoms that expectant fathers often encounter in support of their wives (and
I’ve suffered through every last one of them).
At last measurement, I’ve gained about five more
pounds than her (and I’m not even eating for two). I only hope the cocoa butter works its magic
on my stretch marks. (It actually smells
better than my normal body lotion.) My morning sickness ended by the beginning of
the third trimester, but the flatulence continues for now (OK…grow up). Apparently, pregnant women cannot eat sushi
(no complaints here), and they must also stay away from kitty litter (which
means I now clean up after Max and his nervous stomach a few times a day…talk
about your spousal support).
ONE
BRIEF SCARE
All in all, the pregnancy could not be going more
smoothly. Barb has felt great throughout
and truly
experienced very few adverse symptoms.
She never complains and we only had one somewhat worrisome situation
very early in the pregnancy. While
vacationing in
While our physician proudly displayed his
Universidad de Costa Rica diploma on his office wall, I became suspicious when
he became a bit squeamish at the first sight of blood. We were pleased that they possessed an
ultrasound machine to hear the baby’s heartbeat, though no one at the hospital
seemed to know how to use it. It appeared
to be more like a prop to lend additional credibility to the
NOT
THE TEACHER’S PET
For the past month or so, we have been knee deep in
baby classes, attempting to be as prepared as possible for our new
arrival. As the “mature” couple, the
average age of these classes increased by about 10 years once we registered
(and that includes the instructors). I
had hoped to make a few friends in these classes and maybe even form a play
group with some of the other new parents.
I soon changed my mind after overhearing one of the other fathers-to-be comment that he wishes his baby’s grandparents would be just
as involved as us. I was pretty limited
in my participation in breastfeeding class (though we watched some decent porn
disguised as an instructional video). I
learned the advantages of the football hold and the cross cradle hold and how
to make sure the baby grabs onto the whole areola and not just the nipple. (I warned you.) The child birthing class was insightful and
educational. (Who knew mucus plugs could
be so interesting?) We learned about
natural childbirth and C-Sections, but mainly I felt the entire class was a hidden
attempt for our wives to get an hour long back massage each session. (Of course, Barb already gets that massage nightly
at home…don’t you, dear?)
We even took a hospital tour so we would know
exactly what to expect when the big day arrives. Wandering the halls, I’ve never seen so many
people look euphoric, relieved, excited, nervous, and dead tired all at once. (At least, not since last year’s Rose
Bowl.) Our “Life with Baby” instructor compared
and contrasted Pampers with Huggies and taught us
that baby clothes must be washed in a special unscented detergent called Dreft (that costs three times as much as our standard CVS
brand). We saw pictures of kids born
with pimples (is it too soon to schedule an appointment with a dermatologist?) and
learned all about umbilical cord care. Infant
CPR seemed to be going just fine until I pounded on my doll’s chest a bit too
hard and her head fell off. (Distraught
at first, I was told that rarely happens in real life.)
A
QUESTION OF SEX
Barb and I had differing opinions about finding out
the sex of our baby. I wanted to be
surprised and relish the moment in the delivery room when we would learn
whether a bris or baby naming was in our future. Barb is more of a planner than I and wanted
to be able to make certain room decoration and clothing decisions in advance of
the birth. She also felt that the
surprise comes whenever you find out, whether it be in
the doctor’s office or on the delivery table.
She would be just as happy, just as surprised, but better organized her
way. And so we compromised. She found out its sex and has been doing her
absolute best to keep that crucial information from me.
She’s almost slipped a couple of times (and now maybe
I have a slight clue). Sure, the nursery
is painted very neutral shades of rose (pink) and cream (yellow) and most of
the outfits are pink and purple dresses, but I have yet to see any real concrete
evidence. You see, Barb’s
two brothers are as metrosexual as they come, so the colors are not a dead
giveaway. (Just kidding,
Rich and Mark…how ‘bout those Dolphins this year?) Sure, we stopped discussing little boy names
a few months ago, and Barb always refers to the baby as “her” and “she.” But, in reality, “Eunice” actually works for either
a boy or girl. (It’s such a classic name.) So, if
you happen to find out prior to October 2 or even suspect from the way she is
carrying or the fullness of her face, please have the common courtesy of not
spilling the beans to me. I can’t wait
to be surprised in the delivery room and look forward to bringing home our son
(or daughter) to his (her) perfect rose and cream colored room.
In the meantime, we’ve been installing car seats and
assembling joggers and baby furniture. (Barb
does most of the heavy lifting). We’ve
hired a night nurse, interviewed a pediatrician (Duke grad),
and are beginning to explore nannies vs. day care. Ready or not, we are getting down to the wire
and are so very excited to bring our baby “Eunice” into the world. We may even be calling on a few of you guys
for advice every now and then. Stay
tuned…and, by the way, how soon after childbirth does that constant tiredness
come to an end? We can’t wait.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH is a publication of Brounes & Associates focusing on not much of
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