cindy's world

Wednesday, I had a tremendous tire adventure. I changed all 4 tires for the first time on the Lexus, pretty good considering the car’s 5 years old and has 32,300 miles on it. Apparently those high-performance stock tires were only meant to last 15,000 miles. I’d brought the car into the dealership for a recall check, and they observed that my rear tires were almost bald and the fronts were worn pretty badly on the insides (normal wear on sports suspension, which tilts tires inward in the front for better traction). They quoted me $885 for the 4 tires including mounting and balancing, plus $169 for alignment. I don’t know whether this would include the mandatory tire disposal fees and taxes, and it was already too big of a number for me. I’m used to the Accord Coupe’s tires costing $110 each.
I left to go shop around, and after researching, ended up buying the exact same tires (Bridgestone Potenza RE760 Sport) from Discount Tires, and they installed, mounted, balanced, disposed, taxed for just under $850. Their inspection revealed that my suspension is perfectly fine, so because they saved me an alignment, I was fine paying an additional $70 for their replacement program on all 4 tires. I never thought I’d think a grand on tires is a good deal, but that appears to be the norm from my research, and I got away with really good, high-performance, higher-wear tires for under a grand, and if anything happens to them for the next 3 years, they’ll be replaced for free.
The young guys working at Discount Tires/America’s Tires were very knowledgable, friendly, and professional, and many of them have those same tires on their own cars, which they take on the race track on weekends and drift. They must’ve looked at me and my old tires that lasted 32K+ miles and thought, “Man, this car’s wasted on her, the old folgie.”

After my tires were done, I drove my suddenly quiet car over to Ann’s new house and she, her hubby Mark, and I went to the Orange County Fair. The goal was to let her try this year’s new gimmick, deep-fried Kool-Aid balls. When I saw this in a news article, I’d sent the link to her, and we’d been talking about it since. Last year, I’d discovered a deep-fried butter article and sent that to her, and she did go to the fair and try that, too. I wonder what they’re going to deep-fry next year. But anyway, we weren’t sure we’d find it since a friend was just recently at that Fair and had never heard of the Kool-Aid balls. As luck (good or bad, I’ll let you decide) would have it, it was one of the first things we came across. Ann spotted a giant sign immediately:

(BTW, at 5.5 months pregnant, I weighed myself this morning and I weigh 131.6, up 0.1 lbs from what I weighed 2 weeks ago, when the doctor told me to watch the weight gain and restrict it to half pound per week from this point on. Yay.)

There were a lot of large people in the fried foods line, we observed. I lined up in a significantly shorter line farther down for crepes, and ordered a grilled chicken pesto salad crepe, and noticed that everyone in line in front of me was fit or slender. Interesting. Anyway, I didn’t try the Kool-Aid balls. Ann wasn’t too impressed, saying the fried butter last year was better. The Kool-Aid balls were apparently just donut holes in which red punch Kool-Aid powder was mixed into the dough, then deep-fried. She said the doughy innards didn’t have much taste, altho the more fried outside seemed to have been sprinkled with Kool-Aid powder and did achieve more tang of flavor. She felt sick after eating those and some globules of deep fried zucchini strips, and didn’t eat anything else. Mark had a giant hot dog in a giant bun buried in giant amounts of condiments. I’d never thought of mayo as a hot dog topping. At one point Mark got up and left the table to look at some exhibits, and Ann and I were approached by an elderly couple, the woman in a wheelchair. The gentleman asked politely if they could share our table (I guess the farther back ones would make for difficult wheelchair maneuvering) and I told him of course. It then occurred to me I didn’t even check with Ann, but she didn’t seem to mind. The couple had purchased deep-fried Oreo cookies and offered one to me as I was curious to them. I did not allow Allison to have that, but the two of them said it was good and showed me a cross-section of one they’d bitten into. It looked like fried yellow cake (batter) with a doughy black center (Oreo). Ann said she’d had it before and the oil makes everything soggy inside.
It was fun wandering around the fairgrounds with them, people-watching, exhibit-examining, animal-observing. At the livestock section, a goat had just given birth to two little does about 45 minutes before we’d gotten there. She had already licked her girls clean, altho her rear was still seeping some bloody goo. Animals are so resilient. Mama goat doesn’t even look tired, and the baby goats were already walking their tiny, wobbly fuzzy bodies to mom’s teats and nipping at them, eyes open and everything. Farther down in another pen, some giant sows were laying on hay sleeping on their sides. Their tender sat on the gate, explaining to a bunch of onlookers that the sow behind him is expected to give birth the next day, signs being the changes in her behavior, teats, and she’d begun lactating a bit. Mark leaned against this gate and watched the sow, as Ann and I wandered around all the pens and looked at other goats, chicken, chicks, etc. We returned to the sow section a couple of times and had a good laugh at how many people were gathered around the pregnant sow, just staring, when she was on her side asleep the entire time. What are they looking at? Nothing was happening or going to happen, apparently, until the next day.
Anyway, I think I’m now vegetarian again. The Fair does this to me every time.

Flip Flop Girl gave birth today. Congrats, Flip Flop Girl (Christi) and Wilco (Mike)! Kyden gets a baby…uh…sister? Brother? They posted photos of the baby wrapped up burrito-style, but still won’t tell us the gender! By the way, the parents themselves didn’t know until the new baby showed up, having instructed their doctors not to reveal the gender to them on ultrasound and other test results.

About 10 hours ago, when Christi was in the hospital (actually, she’s still in the hospital), she posted a question on her social networking site. “Drugs or no drugs? …that is the question.” I know that when she was in labor with Kyden, she had tried to hold off on getting the epidural as long as she could, hoping that if she stalled in getting to the hospital, etc, it’d be too late to administer the epidural so it wouldn’t be a choice she’d have to make. However, the labor ended up being so painful that she took the option for pain control once she was in the hospital. I don’t know which way she ended up going with Baby #2, but as she was laboring away, her question brought about a flurry of opinions online. 10 women (and actually, 1 man) emphatically encouraged her to get the drugs. My position is that she should do what she wants and make the decision based on her personal reasons, but that as she is aware, my decision for myself is to go without to avoid potential side effects to mom and baby. Apparently this is a hot topic and made some people unhappy with me, and argue that the possible side effects I briefly referred to (spinal fluid leaks, colicky baby, less responsive baby, lower IQ later on in life, prolonged labor, which are based on studies I’d read before I made my preliminary decision) are not conclusively proven. (I later elaborated on what I’d referred to by quoting study results, but I’ll save readers the long quotes.) One friend made a point of telling me details about her own labor experience, which sounded painful and atypical in that she had complications with her delivery, which resulted in a long labor ending up with epidural and c-section. Her logic was, would I opt for open-heart surgery without pain medication if I was told I’d recover faster afterwards? Also, is it really necessary to have super-smart Einstein children anyway, even if it were proven conclusively that epidurals do affect the baby’s future mental development? The other women’s logic in response to Christi’s question were based on things like “why suffer?”, “no need to traumatize yourself with screaming pain.” I think my friend’s situation is something separate, but the other women’s reasons are very mother’s-comfort-oriented (which is the point of administering the typical epidural, anyway.)

It sounded like from the tone of my friend, who shared her painful labor details with me to make her points, that she took offense from thinking I’m condemning mothers who get epidurals, told me not to “knock it,” and defended her son’s IQ (in that her labor is not responsible for a baby’s IQ). Another mother on Christi’s conversation thread who used an epidural also defended her toddler’s IQ by saying how many words he knows at his age.

I get where they’re coming from: they feel that someone (me) saying she doesn’t want an epidural because it can potentially negatively affect the kid’s development is the same as me saying because they used epidurals, I’m saying they are bad moms or have dumb kids, but that’s not what I’m saying at all. I said multiple times on Christi’s conversation thread that it’s each mother’s personal decision. Some women have paralyzing fear of pain and WOULD be traumatized without major pain control. Others have extreme situations, like my friend, which cause doctors to have to intervene and perform emergency surgery so that the mother and baby wouldn’t be endangered. Others have low pain tolerance, period. These people understandably get epidurals because the benefits outweigh the cost.

What I’m saying is, I’m not one of those women, unless something unforeseen happens during delivery and the doctors have to intervene (in which case I’d give them carte blanche to do whatever is necessary to save lives). I’m someone with high pain tolerance, who doesn’t take pain relievers generally, so assuming delivery is normal, I would make the choice to go without. Like I told my friend:
“I’m not knocking it. She asked for for or against, and she knows my position for my personal decision. I explained that it was a personal decision for both her and for me and that I’m not telling her to do or not to do. I’m not saying across the board there is no reason for someone to take pain meds for any given situation. Obviously your situation called for pretty severe intervention or it would’ve been impossible. Open heart surgery is not the same thing as natural childbirth where it’s an option to go natural or not. (BTW, I don’t consider your situation to be an option, it was a requirement given what was happening during your labor.)
Given a choice when an epidural is being administered simply to take away mom’s pain during labor, my decision is that given the risks involved in an epidural for both mom and for baby, I would rather take the pain to prevent the POSSIBILITY of problems. I didn’t say the studies were conclusive or that I believe every woman who uses an epidural is wrong or will have a negative outcome with her child. If someone has pain phobia or high sensitive to pain/shock/trauma, obviously it would be better to have an epidural. I am not one of those people. I choose to suck it up in order to give even a smidgeon of extra possibility of advantage to this child. To me, all the comments of “why suffer?” do not hold a candle to anything I can do for the benefit of this child. I will suffer, I will sacrifice, I will go natural, I will get over it. That isn’t important to me. This doesn’t mean it isn’t important to other women who do NOT want to feel pain if anyone can help it, or women in your situation who have complications and need intervention. But like I said repeatedly, it is a personal decision, it was yours, it is Christi’s, and it is mine.”

Stats show more than 50% of laboring women opt for epidurals. Where are the other 50%? There was ONE woman on Christi’s conversation string who opted to go without an epidural. She said she liked being able to get up right away afterwards (epidurals numb the bottom half so that walking afterwards isn’t going to happen) and liked that she didn’t need an IV, but that others told her that it was worth it to them to sacrifice those things just to avoid labor pain. I don’t disagree with any of them on their decisions; it was their decision for their delivery style. But it’s not my decision. I don’t know why it seems that women who use drugs seem to want (pretty badly based on other responses to Christi’s question) other women to use drugs, but those who don’t really don’t care despite having their own reasons for their choice.

Besides, if a doctor could guarantee me that my child’s health would magically benefit if I got open-heart surgery without meds, I would seriously consider doing just that.

Something new I read in re-researching this today, some other study found a correlation between epidural use and that child’s future (teen/adult) addiction to drugs. I tried to find this study to be more accurate in saying what kind of drug addiction, etc, but couldn’t find the study, so for now I’ll disregard it. Another new thing: studies seem to point to correlation between epidurals and hyperactivity in kids for up to the first 7 years of their lives. This is the stuff that scares me, altho I realize that website isn’t exactly impartial.

I don’t remember well which week of pregnancy I’m in. I don’t know how other women answer immediately when asked. I need to use the due date calculator each time. This is for today:

Today is Monday July 18th 2011.
You conceived on Monday February 28th 2011
and your due date is Monday November 21st 2011.

140 days have passed since the conception,
and you are 126 days before your due date.

You are 22 weeks into your pregnancy,
and you have 18 weeks to go.

You are in the 2nd trimester.

53% of your pregnancy has passed, there is 47% left to go.

Dardy found an article that features an Australian diver’s photographs which document, for the first time ever, a fish using “tools.” It was suspected that fish may use tools to help them, but it was never shown until these photos. The article explores the definition of tool usage — some say because the fish used its mouth to hold and break a clam against a rock, that it’s not tool use because it didn’t hold the tool. Others say tool use shouldn’t be defined by hand-holding, because there are species that don’t have the same limbs and appendages but still use something to help it do something else. And what about people who lost or are unable to use their limbs, but who use their mouths to accomplish tasks? Are they not using tools?

So Dardy comments, “fish may use tools? what is the definition of using tools? (fish have no limbs.) still pretty cool.”
Me: I’ve seen my dad’s parrotfish pick up a mouthful of pebbles to spit at another fish invading its territory, so I guess that’s like using tools, too.
Dardy: pretty cool. “unintelligent” animals showing signs of intelligence is a nice surprise.
Dardy: the next thing you know, an amoeba will be writing poetry.
Me: I would LOVE to read amoebic poetry!
“In cool viscous flows
I drift and ooze with the rest
Invisibly by”

Yay, I read the mind of an amoeba and wrote down the haiku it composed (since it can’t use tools yet to write or type). Rebecca had implied a couple of times today that I’m more psychic than I realize. Funnily enough, that topic was touched upon, too. Continuing on the thread of conversation comments:

Me: Have you seen “I Am Legend?” It explores “unintelligence”/”desocialization” as perceived (erroneously) by man, i.e. Will Smith.
Dardy’s friend Neal: Cindy… That’s sort of freaky you said that. Two posts above this one on my [social networking feed], a friend just linked something that has a picture from “I Am Legend” o_O
Me: we’re all tapping into the same psychic marrow! 🙂
Neal: Apparently! Spooky…
Dardy: wow, that’s great amoebic poetry. i haven’t seen the movie.
Me: Yeah, that’s one talented amoeba.

Last weekend, I was sitting at our Lake listening to an old-school R&B band perform, tucked into a low beach chair, when my right arm was pushed away from my side where it had been pressing. Simultaneously, I felt the now-familiar internal muscle spasm sensation where my arm was pushed. And that was when I realized, what I’d been feeling inside since like week 15 can now be felt from the outside. Maybe it’s because of the deep bass vibrating my insides, but she kept up her rhythm movements through the rest of the concert. It still kinda wigs me out a little, cuz it’s so similar (identical, except for location) to having a gas bubble moving around.

It took until last nite before it occurred to me to actually put my hand on my abdomen to feel for the jolts externally when I was feeling them internally. As I sat in my big plush La-Z-Boy rocking recliner reviewing some Escrow refinance docs with Mr. W on the computer, Allison continuously broke my attention by her attempts to dance a jig. I pressed a hand gently on the area she was jostling around in. She responded with a movement every 5-8 seconds. I mentioned this to Mr. W, and asked if he wanted to feel it. “I don’t think I’d be able to feel that,” he said, but I pressed his hand onto the same spot my hand was, and for a moment, I thought Allison wasn’t going to cooperate. Then she gave her daddy a high-five, in two different spots, one right after the other. Mr. W’s face lit up. “That’s neat!” he said. Then we both turned back to the Escrow docs, altho Allison really did not settle back down for more than 20 minutes at a time the rest of the night. Last nite was her most active night; usually she’ll move a bit after I’ve had something sweet, like fruit or juice, or if I’m laying in a way that puts pressure on a part of my abdomen, cuz she’ll gently tap at the pressurized spot in protest. But last nite, she was just rockin’ and rollin’ all on her own for a long time.

I told Mr. W that I wish I had an ultrasound machine so I could see what she was doing in there. She doesn’t just poke at one area like she used to; now it’s a tap on the left side, then almost immediately, a brush in the middle above my belly button, then a tap on the way left side of my abdomen. What movements is she making? Supposedly at this stage, we can hear her heartbeat with a stethoscope on my stomach, and she’s having sleeping/waking cycles. Maybe she’s an active dreamer.

Official music video by one of my fave indie artists, David Choi. “By My Side,” new, and relevant. 🙂 (By my side, by my inside, same diff. haha)

The cutest video I’d seen in a long time, and I have yet to come across an original song by David Choi that I didn’t immediately love.

Mr. W expressed a concern last week that I was “gaining too much weight too fast,” which put me in a paranoid tizzy. He said he based this opinion on the fact that pregnancy weight gain guidelines tell new mothers to expect a one pound per week weight gain toward the latter part of pregnancy. My usual weigh-in is morning just after I use the restroom, and based on that, I’d put on 8.3 lbs at almost 21 weeks along. Given the 20-lb limit the OB placed on me for total pregnancy weight gain, and the fact that I have 19 or so more weeks of pregnancy to go, at this rate it looked I would blow past 20 pounds. So I was totally bummed.

At the OB appointment last Friday, I voiced this weight gain concern to my doctor. He didn’t seem particularly troubled, saying that a jump in weight gain at this point IS expected. Then he looked at the numbers on his record for me. The bizarre thing is that altho Allison was conceived on Feb 28 with my weight in the mid 120s (and all medical records around that time verified this weight), on May 3 when I had my first visit with this OB, I weighed in at 120. So of course he recorded that as my starting weight, which isn’t accurate. The appointment on Friday was in the afternoon after lunch, and I had come from work and was in full work clothes, so I weighed more than I normally did on my morning appointments, and it made it look like I weigh a few pounds heavier than I really was. So the doctor was a TAD more concerned that at 21 weeks, I appeared to have a 14-lb weight gain. =P He basically told me not to diet or lose weight, but to get some exercise in daily, and to not eat out much, to avoid juices and sugars, and to cut down on carbs and increase protein. He increased my total weight gain goal from 20 lbs to 25 lbs, cutting me some slack, and told me to make efforts to not gain more than 1/2 lb per week from this point on. So I was totally bummed, feeling like a failure when I left there.

Yesterday at my parents’ house, my mom, totally uncharacteristically, made mention of her opinion that I appear to not have put any extra weight on my person, that only my stomach got big where the baby is. Mr. W pointed out that the doctor said I gained 14 lbs. Mom reiterated that none of the weight gain was on me, she said she could tell. She’s usually the first to point out when I gained a couple of pounds, so I hope she’s not just being nice for nothing now. Meanwhile, I’ll work on diet and be more stringent with cutting carbs and stuff, and try to get more exercise in. I was able to take a brisk hilly 3 mile walk over the weekend without panting myself silly, so this must mean my extra blood supply has finally kicked in. I was getting tired of the breathlessness I’d get from even short spurts of minimal physical activity, like climbing a flight of stairs.

P.S. In good news from the OB visit, my 2nd trimester screen test results are in, so compiled with the data from the first screen, my odds of having a Down Syndrome baby went from 1 in 400 to 1 in 10,000. Everything else came out within normal or good ranges, too.

I had some long conversations with the stepkidlet yesterday. She’s devastated right now; after 6 months, Beau broke up with her last week because he feels that his attraction to and desire for her is a “sin” so despite the fact that they never did more, and never intended on doing more, than hold hands and have the occasional kiss (sometimes that would cause him to have a “sinful thought” and he’d immediately pull away from her, claim he’s “fallen” and immediately get on his knees and pray), despite the fact that 90% of their activity together involves religion (going to various churches, reading and discussing the Bible together, praying, singing worship songs, writing each other loving God-centered letters), he has decided that they need to not be together because if their flesh is weak and they desire each other, they should concentrate solely on Jesus right now. Uh, hello. Jesus has brought you someone like-minded with whom you can have a Christian life and future, and you throw that away because you’re attracted to her? Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Anyway, somehow this conversation led to me talking about a friend’s mom’s faith and how this mom clings to prayer as her sole acceptable answer to anything “wrong” in life. This woman found religion fairly late in life and is an avid believer. As her health slowly fails, instead of taking her doctor’s and family’s advice to eat better, get some exercise, help herself strengthen her body, she has told her family that she will just pray on it and if Jesus sees fit to heal her, He will. So she does nothing. I think she’s taking her religion so far as to use it as an excuse for crippling inaction at this point, and I had crossly said to my friend, “How is your mom so sure that the answer to her prayers isn’t her son researching and sending her advice on what superfoods to consume to heal her body?” It didn’t matter; her response to her son giving her information on studies and nutrition is always, she won’t do anything affirmative for herself except pray, and Jesus will save her. I kinda thought Beau had this mentality; instead of working on what he feels is a weakness toward temptation, instead of acknowledging that the two of them are doing so well in this relationship despite his perceived sinful temptations, he was just going to run away, break Stepdaughter’s heart, and “work solely on his relationship with Jesus” away from her, and pray for strength. Where the “sin” comes in is that he desires someone who is not his wife. Given this mentality, the only way he could get married sinlessly is if he married someone he were completely unattracted to, or if it were an arranged marriage — good luck with the chemistry post-marriage. I told Stepdaughter briefly about my friend’s mom, and she in turn told me this story.

A man’s raft collapsed in the middle of the ocean and he was treading water, praying fervently for Jesus to rescue him. A tugboat comes by and some men yell over the side, “Do you need help? We can throw you a lifesaver and pull you in.”
The man said, “No thanks, I’m praying to Jesus to save me.” So the tugboat went on its way.
Later, a cruiseship passed by and the crew yelled over to the man, “Are you okay? We’ll lower a lifeboat for you to climb aboard.”
The man said, “That’s okay, I’m praying to Jesus to save me.” So the cruiseship left.
Next, a helicopter came over him and shone a light down, and a man says over the loudspeaker, “Sir, we will throw down a ropeladder for you to hold onto so we can airlift you to shore!”
The man said, “That won’t be necessary, I’ve been praying to Jesus and He will save me.” So the helicopter flew away.
The man soon tired and drowned. Upon his spirit’s arrival to heaven, he went to Jesus and said, “Father, I prayed and I prayed! Why did you forsake me?”
Jesus said, “Are you kidding? I sent you a tugboat, a cruiseship, AND a helicopter, and you refused them all!”

God answers prayers in ways man may not expect. Doesn’t mean you should squander the gifts around you.

Mr. W has been going around introducing people to “Allison” already. I’ve had greetings aimed at my stomach. My mom asked if he was disappointed, and without hesitation, he said “no” with a big smile. I kinda believe him. In the car coming home from the gender-revealing appointment, he had looked over with affection and patted my knee a few times, and I know he was thinking about his upcoming daughter. Back before we had decided on the method of conception, and before it was confirmed that Mr. W was still producing live sperm, we had considered alternative methods of bringing forth a child. I didn’t want to get too hopeful that Mr. W could genetically father anyone at that point, so I pretty much made myself okay with the probability that the child would come from donor sperm. I had already talked way back in the blog about how his Gamer Bro had generously agreed to donate his swimmers, which was something Mr. W had discussed with him hypothetically out of my presence. Mr. W saw it as a way to at least “keep it in the family.” But I didn’t like that idea so much because I think it would really confuse relationships and identities of too many people later on for the kid. I liked the idea of an anonymous sperm bank donor, because there are so many genetic tests and background checks done on these donors and their “product” that I would be pretty much guaranteed better DNA (or at least, more defined DNA) than if I were to haul some guy in and offer up his goods to the fertility doctor. It wouldn’t be hard to beat Mr. W’s genetics, I’d told myself, considering I can screen out people with a family history of heart disease, high cholesterol, hypertension, etc. But it’d be hard to beat Mr. W’s looks. =P Seeing how Mr. W has responded so far to this pregnancy, how he’d light up when he saw my stomach (up 8 lbs now), how he spoke of Allison, how he’d gently pat the bump when I went to bother him when he’s on the computer, and then turn to smile at me contentedly… I’m really glad I don’t have some random guy’s kid in here.

By the way, the name Allison (and Allie/Ally) appears to be quite the hit.

OH. Some people have asked how the stepkidlets are handling it. The stepson asks to see his dad’s iPad application that shows how big the baby is (life size) anytime he’s over, and had expressed his hopes that it be a boy. The stepdaughter was so excited that she called me the evening of my diagnostic ultrasound last Wednesday to ask for results. I told her it appears to be a girl, and she was SO excited she kept laughing into the phone and saying, “YES! Haha! I was telling people this is my LAST CHANCE to have a sister! Yay! Does [stepson] know? He was telling me that you guys find out the sex today.”
I said, “No, I was afraid to tell him. You can tell him so you can rub it in.”
She said, “Yay! Okay! Now I’m gonna go tell everyone I know!”
Later, the stepson texted his father.
“Grrr, I was hoping for a boy.”
Mr. W responded, “Well, it MIGHT be a boy…without a penis, scrotum, testicles, etc.”
Stepson texted back, “Well, in that case, I guess it’s better that it’s a girl.”

After Riley sent my mom flowers for her birthday last week, I asked Mr. W, “What if it’s a girl, and she finds all this ‘Riley’ stuff later on and gets all offended?”
He said, “You overestimate how much a kid would care about what you thought. They’re the center of their own universe, they don’t care to read your old blog posts or your old photo comments.” Hmm. And here I’d thought it’d be such a cute college present to print up selected blog posts about the kid in an album or book. Here’s a book about you, what we thought, how much we loved you, starting from before we’d even met you.

I scheduled my full screen ultrasound with radiology for today, my birthday. That way, I’d have the whole day off. What a great present to myself, I’d thought. Mr. W had to work it a little with his supervisors to get it off as well, and by a few minutes after 10am, we were in radiology with a doctor taking tons of photos of the baby’s head, hands, feet, heart, stomach, organs, spine. Everything checked out fine. At one point I saw a little knee raise just slightly, almost like a flinch. I felt it at the same time I saw it on the screen. It was surprising how little movement the baby needed to make for me to feel the twitch. This does not bode well for when the kid gets REALLY active later on when there’s less room. =P
“Do you want to know the gender?” the radiologist asked.
“Yes!”
And she made us wait another 15 minutes while she silently took photos of other stuff. At one point she rested the ultrasound on the left of my abdomen, then turned to look at Mr. W. From my angle I couldn’t really see what he was looking at, I could just see movement and shades of gray, but I turned to look at Mr. W, too. His face spread into a charmed-looking smile. “That’s the baby’s face,” the radiologist explained.

Finally, toward the end, she turned the monitor toward me. “You want to know the gender, right?”
Mr. W said “Yes!”
I felt nervous. I tried to mentally prepare myself to be okay with both genders, reminding myself that I had always wanted a girl, but had gotten used to it being a Riley in the past 5 months of pregnancy, so really, that means I’m happy with either. Right?
We were shown this angle on the screen.

I saw the “hamburger buns.” (I’d done research previously on what boy and girl genitalia would look like on ultrasound.) The radiologist said, “To me it looks like a girl.” I was a little stunned. I couldn’t look at Mr. W, knowing that all along he’d wanted a boy. When I finally turned to look at him, he looked fine. Normal. Still happy.
“Now you won’t have to work hard to stay young enough to throw the baseball around with the kid all the time,” I said to him.
“How accurate is the gender reading?” he asked the radiologist, as I got ready to leave.
“It depends, I may be wrong. But to me it looks like a girl.” She then explained about the hamburger bun looking anatomy between the legs when viewed in from the feet (like the photo above).
Later, in the car, I asked him if he was disappointed. He said, “No, because like you said, now I won’t have to do all the coaching, and all the sports leagues all day long, and driving the kid to and from practice every day. Unless you want her to get involved in softball or something.”
“You’ll have to do a drop-off at piano lessons once a week.” He chuckled but seemed fine with that.

I texted college roommie Diana, who’d been following closely on my whole pregnancy thus far. “So far Rebecca’s accuracy is consistent…looks like an Allison.” I’d told Diana (who’d had a couple of sessions with Rebecca) that Rebecca’s accuracy is claimed to be 85%, although in my and friends’ experience, that’s far too modest. However, Rebecca had always warned us that her predictions of unborn children’s genders are something she’s least accurate at, despite the odds being a 50/50. “God’s sense of humor,” she’d laugh at the disclosure. Rebecca sees the person’s spirit and identity, not an anatomical gender, although in reading past lives she can see an physical image in her head so she was able to tell me that this child and I have had at least one past life together before where I was mom and he was son and took good care of me.
Diana replied immediately, “Wow! Really. Very cool. Congrats. Everything else good?”
“I feel all weird now. Like, what happened to Riley?”
“Haha. Remember, girls will take care of us. Guys will take care of their wives later.”
“Good point.”
Still, I almost cried as I thought about it. Where’d my boy go? It almost felt like a loss, which is ridiculous, and I had to remind myself that the “disconnect” I feel right now is an illusion — it’s still the same soul, same physical baby even, inside of this growing belly that it’s always been. And considering it’s a girl, WOW have I had a blessed, smooth pregnancy. And it’s a good thing that despite being set on “Riley” for a boy name, I still kept running girl names by Mr. W just in case. I liked Ally for awhile, and figured I’d make it Alice, for long, which Mr. W vetoed (along with Kayla, Lilah, Leila, just about every girl name I ran by him). But he was fine with Allison or Alison. I wasn’t as taken with Allison, though even Diana said Alice is an old-woman name and Allison is better. So I looked it up.
Alison – the light of the sun.
Allison – of noble birth.
Allie – The defender, or helper of mankind.
I can live with that. Although I can see confusion coming now — my cousin Diana’s adorable baby girl is Elizabeth Lynn. They call her Elle for short. For the older generation of Asian relatives, they’re going to think Elizabeth and Allison sound the same, and Elle and Ally (I may go with Allie) sound close, too. =P But I guess it was meant to be like that, cuz the name I’d always thought I’d have for my girl was Isabella, Belle for short (which I threw out the window, thanks to the raging success of the “Twilight” series).

Okay, happy 35th birthday to me. A day off from work, AND the discovery of our little Allison with perfectly normal, working parts. Now when I walk by baby stores, I won’t have to point and say all resentfully, “See? Baby girl clothes are SO MUCH CUTER than baby boy clothes!”

I’d meant to post this email exchange from last week between me and my dad in honor of Father’s Day, cuz it’s cute. But I didn’t get a chance, so I’m posting it now (Tues, 6/21) and pre-dating the post to Father’s Day Sunday a few days ago. Yes, I’m cheating by controlling time. But at least I’m open about it.

Some quick background. My mom brings up on occasion that my dad doesn’t know when her birthday is, or didn’t do anything special for her on her birthday. My dad’s rebut is always the same — how is he supposed to keep track of all her birthdays when she goes by the lunar calendar, the solar (Western) calendar, AND there was an error Immigration made in her paperwork on her DOB that instead of correcting, my mom instead just went with to make things easier, so there’s an actual birthday and the erroneous birthday? (I didn’t even know that the “legal” birthday I’d always thought was her actual birthday wasn’t the correct day until adulthood.)
~ * ~
Me: Do you want to go to San Diego for that seafood buffet brunch on Sunday for Father’s Day? I can treat you and [Mr. W].

Dad: Is sunday your mom’s birthday ? And 29 is your birthday? So every body had some reason to happy ?

Me: Sunday’s not mom’s birthday! Her bday is next Wednesday. But we can do advance celebrations.
Also, the Service Dept at Lexus is not open on Sundays, so to save you a trip on Saturday, [Mr. W] and I will go over after work on Friday, I’ll leave mom my car and take hers, then I’ll get her car navigation reprogrammed at Lexus on Saturday, then on Sunday when you come over for the brunch, you’ll bring back my car and later drive mom’s car back home. (Confusing?)

Dad: Mon’s bday make more confusing, As I know grand mom said your mom’s bday is jun 22. And she said is jun 26 and you said is next Wednesday. and I know she was born May 01 at intercalary month that is the reason (excuse) not to know which day is her bday. haha
For Lexus it is much easy to understand you and [Mr. W] home Fri. Me and mon to your home Sun. see it is easy. One more thing the save beal on driver side need to fix too. It is face wrong side.

Me: mom said her bday is actually June 22 (next Wednesday) but that immigration made a mistake when doing her paperwork and wrote June 26. So her “legal” birthday is June 26, which is what I always thought it was until one day I found out it was a paperwork mistake. So now I ignore the mistake birthday and celebrate the “real” birthday. And now you say it’s May 1. So I have no idea. I want 3 birthdays, too.
Oh, that’s right about the safety belt. I’ll have them fix that, too.

Dad: you know what one day mom ask me to pick up Savon for her, The counter asking me what is your wife’s bday? and then every body lol because they understand been marryed for so many year(don’t remember how many years) old man alway can not know wife’s bday.

Me: Why would Sav-On need mom’s birthday, anyway? You should’ve explained that it was an unfair question for you, because you remember 3-4 different birthdays, so you should get more credit.

Dad: As you know Sav-On when you pick up some times asking zip. or tel last 4 # or…to see it they give you the right medicinal. never had any one asking for bday but because I pick up for my wife so they think the other way to have fun (I guess),
When I drop prescription the old man (druggist) see the prescription is for shawling and try to verify I told him “Jun 26 1951” he lol and said “close enough I been marry so long and still had problem to remember my wife bday” then when drug ready the lady asking the same question and said it is not the corrct should be Jun 22. How would I know which day mom use for different place ? and how to explain one people had 6 different bday?
1. May 1
2. May 1 lunar year.
3. Jun 22
4. Jun 22 lunar year
5. Jun 26
6. Jun 26 lunar year
And your mom actually bday is lunar calendar Intercalary month May 1 so in Solar calendar is Jun 22…… How you think I may use my poor english to explain to some one don’t know lunar calendar ?? To make thing’s easy just laugh on it. right ? ha ha did I make it clear ??
~ * ~
Did you guys understand that? Do I need to translate? 🙂 Longest emails my dad had ever written me. Usually his emails are stuff like “CINDY: GOT EML. WL TALK TO MOM RPLY. THKS”