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July 30, 2003

Okay. How about July then?

Luke Ryan decided to show up a couple of weeks early. Aside from making sure that Jeanine and I met each other, God could not have given us a more absolutely perfect gift than little Luke. Fun stories, pictures, and full-on details are going to have to wait until we figure out how to fit a website into this insane 3-hour feed-sleep-diaper cycle. Until then, though, here are the vital stats, a picture [taken just minutes after his arrival!], and a movie of him in all his active glory:

Name: Luke Ryan Teague.
Weight: 7 pounds, 8 ounces.
Height, should he decide to stand early: 20 inches.
Birthday: 3:46pm, July 26, 2003.
Age at birth: 38 weeks.
Age as I type: 4 days.
Will graduate high school in: 2022 [he will be driving a hovercraft].
Hair: Yes. Brown.
Fingernails: Unmanicured and deadly.
Pant size: Maybe an 11 long?
Race: Caucasian.
Tongue: Way long.
When he's just hanging out, he looks: This cool [movicon 1.8Mb Quicktime movie].

July 21, 2003

Pregnancy perks

I love how nice people are to pregnant people. You could be anywhere and people are 95% (that's just a guesstimate) more likely to strike up a conversation with you than they would normally. Just recently I've had the following encounters:

- A man at Home Depot struck up a conversation in the returns line in order to guess if I'm having a boy or a girl based on how I look (by the way, he guessed I was having a girl, which a lot of people tend to do).
- A woman stopped me while going to my car and asked how far along I was because she has a daughter who's "just about as big" as me, but she hadn't seen her in a couple of weeks and wanted to estimate how big she looked now.
- A group of about 4 women stopped me and another pregnant girl in the bathroom line at a wedding to get the details of our pregnancies and to relate theirs. (Side note: this other pregnant girl at the wedding is due in Oct. and had just run the Peachtree Road Race that morning. Can you believe that? Totally showed me up! )
- A salesperson at Circuit City who was 5 months pregnant wanted to evaluate how big she was going to look 3 months down the line.
- Multiple references in non-pregnancy-related random conversations with injected phrases like "when your baby comes", "take some more - you're eating for two", and "good luck!" when there hasn't been any reference to anything I'd need luck for.

Plus, people are always opening doors, smiling at me (or, rather, my stomach), helping me stand up, and offering to carry stuff for me (groceries, packages, slips of paper...just kidding about that last one...) I think when this is all over I'm just going to walk around with a pillow stuffed under my shirt. :)

July 11, 2003

I'm sorry, but...

...my wife is H-O-T. I'm telling you. If she's coming straight at you, you'd never know she was pregnant. But then, if she turns to the side: ta da! Eight months! She's gonna make me take this entry down when she sees that I've posted it, so I hope you got to see it while it lasted...

July 9, 2003

One month (or so) to go!

I figured that since today is exactly one month before my due date, I'd post a little bit about what's going on. Being this far along I thought I'd know enough to feel "in the club," but there are still things that I'm confused about.

For instance, when the baby "kicks," how can pregnant women identify hands and feet like they claim? I totally believe them, but it's something that I just haven't experienced. I definitely know that something's up when there's a huge bulge poking out of one side of me, but in reality, I can't identify it as anything more than a bulge. I could pretend like I knew what it was, and I can even make an educated guess based on which way the doctor said the baby was facing the last time I was in the office, but it's really just a guess.

Also, this whole packing the bags thing for the hospital? Last time I was at the doctor he told me I'd probably deliver +/- 2 weeks from my due date. If I packed my bags now, there'd be a shortage of things that I'm currently using - like my toothbrush, and pajamas, and...underwear. Yeah, I could probably buy more or do laundry more often, but I still feel like I've got a buffer of time. Famous last words, right? :)

Oh, and just to follow up on Beau's last post...This past week at baby class we had a pocket of time at the end of class. Georgia gave us the option of watching a video on postpartem (which we had barely touched on) or playing a "game" where the wife tenses up a part of her body and the husband has to find where she's tense. Guess what everyone excitedly and unanimously chose?? Yeah, we left early.

July 2, 2003

Baby class.

We're three classes in to our five-week birth, breathing, and baby class. And I'm this close to just not going back at all. Here's the deal: the information on the different stages of labor, how to breathe, and what kind of medication to expect is all very good, very helpful information. Two and a half out of three hours of the weekly class is devoted to that stuff. Even the painfully close-up and explicit birthing videos that silence the room are somewhat bearable. Not bearable:

30 minutes of "relaxation and massage exercises." Doesn't sound so bad at first, does it? Well here, then. Let me help you out on what it really means.

We're all jammed up in a small room in the medical center. There's like 12 couples of various ages and levels of enthusiasm present. There is no room to move or stretch; we line the room's bordering walls elbow to elbow. When the relaxation and massage portion of the evening begins, the lights dim, the teacher puts on some Kenny G, and we're all instructed to put our blankets and pillows on the floor. We then are supposed to get on the floor and "get comfortable together."

After all the pregnant ladies get nice and comfy all up in their respective husband's laps, Georgia (our instructor whose accent matches her name) begins to monotonously read highly-detailed, intense massage techniques from what must be a hypnosis slash sex camp manual. And everyone complies! Oh man. Please stop this, people. 22 folks all eagerly rubbing and massaging away like it's some horrible late-night HBO thing. It's beyond uncomfortable. And Jeanine and I seem to be the only ones NOT competing for this apparent title of Most Passionate that the others are going for. Because we're in a classroom full of strangers. What are you thinking? What are you people trying to prove? Are you not completely weirded out by the guy sitting two inches to your side practically getting his wife pregnant again? This is so nasty.

Apparently we're supposed to be learning these techniques as a way to ease the labor process. Fine. Will do. As my wife's "birthing coach," I promise to massage, talk, love, whatever she needs or wants when that time comes. What I can't handle anymore is doing this stuff on the floor in the middle of a mini-conference room in Kennesaw, Georgia. I think we'll try to leave early next week.