Finally, after weeks of feeling like I am making no progress on important tasks, we are getting some results. Here's what's been happening this week.
The breastfeeding class on Tuesday was a success. My first goal was to make it through the evening without having to show anyone my ta-tas. Fortunately, that was never an issue. I also achieved my second goal of learning more about the "natural" way to feed a baby. It's so natural that after two hours of instruction and a video featuring millions of boobs, I am now 25% confident in my ability to breastfeed. Meanwhile, DH was in the next room learning about Bean's basic needs, which include sleeping and crying. They don't give much credit to new dads, do they?
My OB is in Hawaii, so I saw another doc in the practice on Wednesday. She reported that the ultrasound from last Thursday looked great. Bean is positioned head down and has the perfect amount of fluid to keep him safe and healthy. Only one tiny concern... or should I say enormous concern... the baby was estimated at 7 lbs 5 oz! The stand-in doc thought this number was wonderfully moderate and commented, "Not too small and not too big. We don't want a 10 lb baby!" I just smiled nervously at the time, but I've been freaking out ever since. I'm no doctor, but I am still capable of simple math. If I was 4 weeks from delivery at the time of the ultrasound, and the baby gains 1/2 lb every week during late pregnancy... that's a 9 1/2 lb child coming out! DANGEROUSLY CLOSE to a 10 lb baby, thank you very much. I realize that there is quite a large margin of error, and Bean could easily show up several pounds lighter. But that uncertainty goes both directions, meaning I could give birth to that 20 lb turkey after all. Which worries me for obvious reasons, among those being that DH and I have decided to wait to meet Bean before finalizing his name. The two of us were born with dark hair, so I imagine staring at this enormous, hairy newborn and none of our name selections fit him. Welcome to the world, baby Elvis.
Shock of all shocks, Bean's crib and dresser have finally arrived! (The glider-rocker is coming later, giving me something else to complain about starting next week.) We decided to save the cash and pick up the furniture from the store instead of having it delivered, meaning that poor DH spent literally 6 hours getting both pieces upstairs by himself and breaking down all the packaging they came in. I was even less helpful than the dog, because at least she ripped apart some of the cardboard for him. I'm a little disappointed that we won't be able to decorate the nursery as fully as I'd like, because it's a rental house and we hope to buy again very soon. Which reminds me, anyone want to come out and help us move? I'll supply the pizza and beer.
We also got the car seats installed and inspected. It's been weird driving around with a baby seat in the back of my car... it causes me a lot of double takes when I am opening my door. I can't believe that in a couple of short weeks, I'll look in the rear view mirror and see little Elvis back there.
This weekend will be a busy one as we try to continue to make progress on our to-do list. I've been trying to get Washington plates for our cars for the past 2 months, and the struggle continues. I've talked to several DMV people on the phone and in person, getting different information on what documents are needed from each conversation (always something I don't have, of course). And remember how difficult it was for us to get driver's licenses too? All this trouble has me absolutely baffled, especially in light of an article I recently read about how Michigan is going to start denying licenses to illegal immigrants. Politics of this aside, how did these people ever have the right paperwork to get licenses in the first place? I'm extremely impressed and would pay thousands of dollars to know their secret! I am about as officially American as they come... born and raised in the Midwest, our nation's HEARTLAND for cyring out loud. Who else would drive a Pontiac? Next time we move, I'm just going to say I'm an illegal immigrant, because apparently it's easier for them to deal with the DMV. Gracias for the plates, amigos.