Quick update

I (K) am still in Oh Canada visiting the family, celebrating my Grandma's 100th birthday, hanging with the cutest nephews on the planet, trying to stay dry, kicking my sister's arse in Dutch Blitz (okay, we haven't played yet but I know we'll get some games in and I KNOW I'll win), seeing old friends, attending a baby shower for Pat, eating a chicken dinner in Frankenmuth, drinking gallons of chocolate milk (because the midwife said 4 servings of dairy a day and chocolate milk counts), and eating the best corn and peaches in North America. Pat is keeping up with me and is very active. I swear I'm going to give birth to a hyperactive child. Mark my words now. Pat just thumped me as I typed that. Oh Pat!

Oh, and for all of you who swear by the heart rate as a determinant in gender, at 12 weeks it was 150, 16 weeks was 150, and 20 weeks was 160. So go crazy. Start your predictions. Everyone except my cousin Kristi says boy, so feel free to jump on the bandwagon. Christian has been dreaming it's a girl but I have no gut feelings on the matter. I just hope Pat is one or the other!

Doctor vs. Midwife

When we first discovered we were pregnant, I (K) started to think about who we wanted to see for the pre-natal care and delivery of our child. The obvious choice for a lot of women is their Ob-Gyn. I really started thinking about this because I had seen my Ob-Gyn for infertility and wasn't impressed with his approach or handling of our situation. So I started to ask around and one friend that I trust greatly (who's baby was delivered by our shared Ob-Gyn) said that the next time she would go to a midwife because it seemed like our doc didn't really have much time to spend with her at each appointment and she didn't receive the care she had expected. Then I started hearing from other people that they had seen a midwife and loved the entire experience. I had always thought that only patchoulie-wearing hippies that wanted to deliver in a kiddie pool in their living room used a midwife. I was sorely mistaken.

Turns out these professionals take a very different approach to pre-natal care and delivery than most doctors, which was atractive to me. They have a MUCH lower rate of Caesarean Section, which is great because I DO NOT want a C-section. They spend more time with you at each appointment. They are with you for almost your entire labour, unlike a lot of doctors that arrive just in time to catch the baby. They don't try to push home births or drug-free (natural as some people call it) labour either. And our midwife hugs us at each appointment, which is something I never would have received from my doctor. When people ask me what a midwife does I inform them that they do everything a doctor does but in a more nurturing and involved way. Please don't think that I believe all doctors to be evil. I don't at all, especially considering I have so many friends that are docs. I just think that our society has distanced itself from how childbirth should be and actually used to be pre-1940s when it became so institutionalized.

After asking around, I received the name of a midwife who was very much trusted and of course recommended and I promptly scheduled my first appointment with her to check her out. I came armed with my list of questions,  as most first-timers do. Needless to say, she passed my test and I scheduled my next appointment with her. I think I was most impressed because she said that all of the off limit things that other friends have been told to avoid were cool with her, in moderation of course. Most importantly, she said I could keep mountain biking. Yay! (just so you know, this past Sunday was my last mountain bike ride for the year. I realized I'm pretty far along and if I crashed, which I don't do anymore, but if I did, I'd probably damage poor Pat. So C is putting slicks on for me and I will continue riding pavement from here on out).  

I'm currently reading this absolutely fascinating book called "Birth Day" by Mark Sloan, MD. The blurb on the front cover says, "A Pediatrician Explores the Science, the History, and the Wonder of Childbirth." I read from it every night and look forward to seeing what I'll learn from it every day. It's just so interesting. Last night I learned that the term "midwife" is a Middle English term, nearly a thousand years old. It's a combination of the words "mid" (with) and "wyf" (woman): a midwife was literally a person who stayed with a woman during her labour. The chapter goes on to describe how, since the dawn of humanity, women have always been involved in birthing other women's children. It was a group effort as childbirth was a strong common denominator for women everywhere. "When doctor-assisted hospital birth beckoned in the early twentieth century, with its promise of increased survival and decreased pain, women abandoned the ways of their mothers and grandmothers. By mid-century the transition was complete. Home birth was an unlamented thing of the distant, dusty past, a relic of pioneer times."

So....all this jabbering to say, I have realized I want more personal care and a more nurturing environment in which to bring Pat into this world and I believe that I have found that in my midwife. I almost want to get back to basics, so to say. Try to fuse the past with current practices. Does that mean I want a room full of people at Pat's birth? Possibly. I do like a good party. And does that mean I don't want any of the wonderful drugs that are at my disposal? I'm not sure. That's something I'm currently working through. Just don't go sniffing around for patchoulie oil on me--you're not going to find it.

America's Next Top Model

Okay, Pat might not ever appear on the Tyra Banks show that I am unfortunately obsessed with watching, but Pat does love to model already as captured below.                                                                       

Here is Pat at the 19 week photo shoot. Look how Pat's all ready to celebrate New Year's Eve (Pat's due date). Oh that Pat!! I hope that party hat doesn't become too much of a problem coming out.

 

 

 

 

 

Pat took off the hat and threw away the noise maker for this profile shot. Pat knew s/he needed one of these serious profiles for it's portfolio. The face shot was a little too spooky to put on here--plus I don't think you'd be able to see much once it's scanned in. And the foot shot looked more like a club foot than a regular foot. Pat just wasn't cooperating at the shoot that day. But Pat's spine sure looks good yet again.

 

And finally, an updated 20 week bump shot. I think my arms are still looking fit and trim but my quads have sadly succumbed to cellulite, which is why when you see me in person I will be wearing shorts, a skirt, or a dress that's long enough to hide my dimpled thighs. Oh, speaking of shorts, I'm still fitting into a couple of pairs of regular shorts. Pat doesn't think they're roomy enough though because s/he decided to let me know that I needed to undo them while I was driving to work the other day. Guess I was cutting off Pat's circulation or oxygen supply. Not sure which, but either way, I went out and bought a belly band and can continue avoiding maternity clothes for awhile longer!! I have found a couple of funky belly bands online which I will be adding to my collection too. I would upload an image from the internet of a belly band but I haven't been able to figure it out yet!

In the Beginning

Getting pregnant. This is the first hurdle to leap on the road to having a baby (well the first is talking your wife into strange yet wondrous things in the bedroom). 

In the beginning we thought that if we "do it" we will make a baby. After marching to that beat for more than a year and a half we came to realize that sex doesn't always lead to babies. Curse those who preached pre-marital abstinence to avoid unwanted pregnancies. 

Needless to say, we tried and tried but in my mind I thought that Kristyn's womb was a rocky place where my seed could find no purchase. We then decided to take drastic measures which includes, in part, my early morning deposit at the fertility clinic...

It was a morning like any other, the sun was shining, there was an April chill in the air and I was stepping out before church to "get my wife pregnant" in the clinical way. I climbed into the car and began to back out of the driveway with a heavy weight on my shoulders and millions of eager sperm swimming in my loins. I pointed the nose of the car toward my destiny, which was to become a father by any means necessary. Oh, for to have a child I would scale Everest; I would fight a small bear; I would watch a What Not To Wear marathon. Needless to say I would do almost anything to add another mouth to the Hancock table and that includes "doing my duty" in a place of business. By place of business I mean the fertility clinic at the University of Utah, and by "doing my duty" I mean filling a cup with baby paste!

I think that you all know where I am going with this. I don't like to beat around the bush, I always choose the direct route. So there I am, sitting in a waiting room at 7:30am with the knowledge that soon a young attractive woman will call my name and hand me a small cup on our way back to the "sample giving room". This room has other names in Vegas and on the streets of Bangkok. 

There I am, all alone in a nicely appointed room with a cup, a task to do and very little self confidence in my ability to perform said task. I think that I should mention here that this was not my first rodeo, meaning, this was not the first time that I have been forced to give a sample of my manliness. Months before I had to be tested for virility and such in a place not much different from the one where the magic happened. Still, I was a bundle of nerves. Lucky for me the clinic had a fresh supply of not - so- fresh or current gentlemen's magazines for just this type of occasion. Now most of you know me and and right now I want to say more about these 1980's mags but for the sake of decency and fear of my wife's wrath, I cannot. Like many of you I have always thought that one day I would become an actor and as an actor I would be asked to do a sex scene at some point in my career. I have alway fought with my answer. Should I or should I not bare it all for the sake of an Oscar? Where am I going with this? At the time, in my nervous approach to clinically knocking my wife up, I was wondering what it must be like to perform in front of a camera with the director barking orders and my make-up person touching up my love handles. Then and there I was forced to go to my happy place. A place beyond human interaction, a place were I could be alone with my task...and a cup to fill.

I thought that the worst was over, but then I had to deposit my sample through a small revolving door and walk out past everyone in the waiting room filled with men and women that knew exactly what I had just done. Even more, I then rushed back to church where I had to greet people for our 9:15 service. This greeting includes passing out bulletins and yes...shaking hands. If they only knew!

20 down, 20 to go!

So as you might be able to tell, I've tried to change the way the blog looks. My lovely and talented cousin Ashley designed a new header for me which I've unsuccessfully posted and managed to cut off. Here I thought I was hot stuff because I added a widget the other day (the creepy looking baby floating in the bubble telling you how many days left until Pat's debut) but I guess I'm not so hot after all. I can't even figure out how to add people's blogs on the side. Don't worry Pat, I'm sure you'll be brilliant.

Well, today marks the middle of the pregnancy and I'm celebrating with a root beer. Even though we got the green light on sushi, soft cheeses, deli meat, mountain biking, wine, and the occasional doobie (just making sure you're with me) from our mid-wife, the only thing I've felt like participating in is mountain biking and low sodium turkey from the Harmon's deli. We went out for sushi a couple of months ago and I ate a bowl of rice, miso soup, and salad. Sushi just didn't sound, smell, or look that appealing. The only cheese I can stand these days is cheddar. And I've had a grand total of 3 glasses of wine since April 25. But root beer? Oh, I can drink that and Coke with ease and reckless abandon.

Anyway, back to being at the half-way mark. A friend asked me yesterday if I was wishing that time would speed up so I could hold Pat in my arms. And I hate to admit this but I'm glad for the 40 weeks. I'm actually in no rush to meet Pat. Does that make me a bad mother already? Please don't call the DCFS (US equivalent to Children's Aid Society for all my Canadians) on me just yet. There's still so much to do before Pat's triumphant entry into our life. Not only doing away with our 70's love fest basement and moving the office downstairs, or getting Pat's room ready, but there's all the sleep I need to catch up on before sleep is robbed from me for the rest of my life. And all the books I need to read on sleep training. And all the impromptu scooter rides, hikes, trips to the Farmers Market, trips to see friends and family, and whatever else we do that we won't be able to do, or do as easily, once Pat arrives. So, judge me if you want, but I'm not ready for Pat, even after all the months of crying and heartbreak because there was no Pat. And if all of my reasons aren't enough, Pat's only the size of a banana right now...far too small to take the world by storm. And so, I will probably drink another root beer tonight to celebrate the half way mark and reflect on the last 20 weeks. And then I might have a real beer in anticipation of the next 20 weeks (and what's coming after that).

Pat vs. gas

I think that's what Christian was asking himself last night when I grabbed his hand and pushed down on my uterus. He felt Pat moving around for the first time and I've gotta say I don't think he liked it. Or maybe he was too engrossed in watching this crazy-drunk-sex-addict on "Intervention" on A&E. Needless to say, he only kept his hand on there for a few of Pat's acrobatic moves and then he was done. Maybe it's a guy thing?!? I'll see if he'll weigh in on the subject.

My Mountain Man Survived!

Just a quick update to let you know Christian survived his solo overnight hike into the mountains. I dropped him off yesterday at a trailhead up Big Cottonwood Canyon. As he exited the car, it started to rain, and being the caring and sensitive wife that I am, said "I love you, but you cannot call me to come pick you up if you get cold or if it snows. I'll see you here at 2:30 tomorrow. Have fun!!". And then I peeled away in my turbo diesel, leaving him in a cloud of bluish grey smoke. So sensitive, I know. Anyway, he called me at 1:00 today to say he was almost to the trailhead so I left right away and picked him up. Despite the fact that he was camping next to a family of coyotes and it was a little more than 32 degrees F outside last night, he survived and is talking about doing it again as soon as possible. I'd sleep better at night if he could find someone to hike and camp with (hint hint). He begged me to post some of his photos, so here you go.

Here's the view from his tent.

 

Here's a self portrait he took just in case the coyotes got a hold of him and the search and rescue team needed a photo to i.d. the body.

 

Coming soon, Christian has promised to write about his side of the story at the fertility clinic, where Pat was conceived. You'll probably want to read that one.

2024 Summer Olympics, here we come!

I (K) couldn't sleep last night. I think it was a combination of watching L.A. Ink up until midnight and that Grande Awake tea (with room for milk, please) I drank earlier in the day to help alleviate the headache I've had for a couple of days. At any rate, I snuck into bed at midnight because I thought Christian was asleep. Nope, he was as awake as I was. And so was Pat! I swear Pat was perfecting it's gymnastics floor routine for the 2024 Summer Olympic Games. I felt somersaults, some ribbon twirling, and a couple of scissor kicks on the floor of my uterus for a good 40 minutes or so. I had my hand resting on my abdomen and swore I could feel it on the outside and when I grabbed for C's hand, he moaned and pushed me away. His loss. Pat and I finally fell asleep and slept in until 8:30 this morning. It's almost noon and I feel like I should probably get out of my pyjamas and do something productive. I think a hike up at Alta is in order since it's a mere 79 degrees today (compared to 95 yesterday).

Yesterday we went to St. Mark's Hospital and had our "big" ultrasound. The one and only ultrasound our insurance will pay for, so it's the last time we'll see Pat on the big screen. We promptly told the tech and the doctor that we did not want to know the gender, and so it remains a mystery. Thanks to the ultrasound and the doctor, we know that Pat does not have a cleft palate, no spina bifida, Pat does not appear to be Down Syndrome, and Pat's head is a normal size. Phew! Oh, and Pat's nose is a normal size too. We had the tech and the doctor zoom in on it because I (K) was so worried based on the last ultrasound we had. Pat is measuring at 10 oz and is exactly the size where it should be for a 19 week old. Yay Pat! I'll scan in the images and upload them soon.

Last weekend I went to Lake Tahoe with 9 other women to celebrate the 40th birthdays of 4 lovely friends. I had a great time swimming in the pool at the condo where we stayed (at Incline Village...so beautiful), reading, watching movies, laughing, scaring the girls with a stuffed bear, biking, hiking, boating, and eating. Oh, and sleeping with Tara in a king size bed. That was a real treat. 2 pregnant women getting up to go to the bathroom several times in the night. I'm glad we had each other. Lake Tahoe is such a beautiful place and I hope we can return again next year. Here are a couple of fun memories from the weekend.

We ditched the bikes for this photo opp. This is how a bunch of 40 year olds (plus Loretta and me) "get silly." I love how Francis is showing us her guns and Gina is about to fall off the rock backwards.

Because of my "condition", I was one of the designated drivers for the trip. I didn't mind because it meant I got to drive a brand new Range Rover. Here's evidence (thanks Tara for taking the photo). I swear I can't have a normal face in any photo.

Here are Tara and I down at the dock. Tara is 34 weeks and I'm 18. Hey, don't judge me because I wear the same shorts and tank top EVERY DAY!

Finally, a group shot of the gals. I just noticed how Danielle is holding on to Pat. How sweet! Such a great group of women that I adore spending time with.

Funky apron

I've always wanted a funky retro apron and have seen a lot of cool ones at craft fairs and on-line, but have refused to pay the $30.00+ price tag for something I'm going to wipe my hands on. Enter Laurie, my sewing angel. I saw some aprons she made and thought "what if I could get Laurie to make me the apron I've always wanted for far less than $30?" And you know what? She could and she did! I got the fabric on-sale and then slipped her a gift card from Starbucks and it was less than $30 and far better than anything I've seen. Making it's world debut....my apron!!

 

Now, I wonder what her response will be when I ask her to make my crib bedding...