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I think I understand now why my father always wanted so desperately to be with his kids on Father’s Day.  Birthdays are a celebration of you, so naturally I always thought Father’s Day was a celebration of your father, a day to pay homage to the guy who gave you the ever-so-important x or y chromosome that makes you who you are.  I guess that’s part of it, but I’m seeing things a little differently now.  This Father’s Day equated to a massive paradigm shift for me that had the physical effect of walloping me with a happy-sappy stick.

I received my first Father’s Day card, and yes, it was sweet; and yes, it was kudos to me about how good a dad I’d be, etc.  Yes, I also received adorable gifts from my wife – cute baby books about daddies (my favorite below right), and a precious frame that displays an ultrasound picture (my sister got me one as well).

Daddy Kisses

Please understand that I’m in no way saying I’m not thankful and touched by these gifts – I very much am.  But I was entertained by something else this Father’s Day.  I know this is going to sound corny, and I’m doing my best not to be sappy here, but I could have not received a gift or card and would have not felt slighted in the least.  In fact I would have still been tickled pink about my Father’s Day.

You know how you have to allow yourself to relax and enjoy yourself from time to time lest you get so caught up in the frenzy that you forget to do so?  I equated Father’s Day as the world’s nod to me to sit back and relish in the fact that I was a father.  THAT became the point of the day for me.   It’s just so obvious to me now, but I don’t think I’d have ever realized it if I wasn’t a new dad.  It wasn’t “dear husband or brother or son, congrats to you for being a dad and here’s a celebration of you.”  It wasn’t about celebration at all, per se.  Or at least not as we usually do it.  For me it was a shift of consciousness.  It provided me an occasion to wrap my thoughts up in all that my baby is and will be to me in the years to come.

When the day was done and dinner was had, cards were opened and quiet descended upon the house, my wife took a nap and I allowed myself to close my eyes for a few very brief moments and allow my imagination to flash to the future: the first time my baby crawls, the first time I hear its laugh, its first date without me tagging along as a chaperon, and its first heartbreak, moments of pride and ones of disappointment but more than anything flashes – one after another – of sheer love.  I love this kid and I don’t even know it yet.  I know what love is and I feel it for all sorts of people in my life.  Mostly, and more than anyone else, I feel it for my wife….sometimes so much it hurts.  But what I felt as I allowed myself those glimpses into the future – man, that was love like I’d never felt it before.

I decided that after I caught my breath and regained composure I would 1) document this enormous paradigm shift, and 2) wade through the sappiness and get to the point of the thing as best as I could to explain to folks what I think my dad always felt and never told me.  Father’s Day isn’t about the celebration of fathers.  It’s a moment the fathers allow themselves to relish and celebrate their kids.  All the dads I know tell me that there is nothing in this world like being a daddy.  I discovered – really the thought smacked me upside the head like a 10 pound salmon pitched across the room – that it’s more about my baby, about the whole world and the rest of my years wrapped up in this little thing that’s not even born yet.

Maybe it’s different for other fathers.  Hell, maybe its the same and none of us want to share the revelation, but rather keep it to ourselves like a little piece of heaven that’s all our own that we’re entitled to at least this one day a year.  Regardless, this is my new view of Father’s Day.  I’m not sure I can explain it any better, but I just want to say: I understand now, pops.

-RookieDad Sean

At week 7, I think we saw the heartbeat. I say “saw” because the embryo was far too small to use a typical listening device (i.e. Doppler) to heat the heartbeat.

What precipitated the visit was bleeding and slight cramping. At this point, we had switched doctors three times – moving from a midwife, to the head of the practice, to a newer doctor who we fell in love with at this very same visit. We’ll call her Dr. F.

That Sunday evening, when my wife had some spotting that showed up on toilet paper and in her underwear, we called the emergency nurse line to ask about it. We were told that it was most likely nothing, but to schedule appointment immediately.

I was concerned that H. (my wife) had done too much activity over the weekend. I immediately ordered her to cease and desist all activity and TAKE IT EASY. Believe you me, that appointment couldn’t come soon enough.

We luckily got into the doctor – a new doctor – the next day. She had a wry wit and a very no-nonsense air about her, but she was young and inspired confidence.  She was exactly what we needed. Dr. F. ordered a vaginal ultrasound.

As a tech broke out something that looked very much like a small boom mic – which she officially termed a “wand,” H. and I held our breath. What came up on the screen didn’t exactly look like baby – more like a wee-beety alien Quasimodo (we later found out the hump was the “yolk sak”). In the center of the image of the mini-martian on the screen was a pixelated flutter in the center of the thing. It was a heart beat.

Though statistics arguably vary due to when the heartbeat is discovered, one statistic notes that the rate of miscarriage during the first trimester (first 12-14 weeks) drastically reduces – by ~70% – once a strong heart beat is heard. Our little martian had a 170+ beat-per-minute heart rate. Strong. Very strong.

H. choked down tears, not sure if crying was permitted in the exam room (we are just so new to this). Me? I just held my wife’s hand and tried to wrench my mouth closed from the wide-open, lock-jaw position it had been in for the last fifteen minutes.

As H. and I continued to stare at the screen, the tech printed the first picture we’d have of our baby.

Baby McG at 7 weeks, 4 days

A very common occurance, what H. and I had experienced was implantation bleeding.  As the ovum (the egg cell – the largest cell in the female human body) begins its decent from the fallopian tubes to the uterus, it plant itselt into the uterine wall where it will develop along with its placenta.  This nestling into the uterine wall creates some rupture of blood vessels as the egg works its way into the wall of the womb.  The blood eventually works its way out.  In our case, it worked it’s way out seven weeks and 3 days after implantation onto H.’s underwear and toilet paper.  Happily, we now know that implantation bleeding is one of the only times bleeding is welcomed in pregnancy.  It means the young baby has snuggled into the womb and has found itself a warm, welcome home to begin growth and development.  It’s a good thing, people.

I guess the point of the story for us was that pregnancy marks a very weird, wild time for the female body.  All kinds of crazy stuff is happening in there.  If something seems wrong, off kilter, or just unusual, DO NOT FREAK OUT.  The stress is bad for the mommy, baby and daddy (and dogs, cats, other family members, friends, etc.).  Just calmly call the doctor and get in there to check it out.  Some worry is natural; just try to keep it all in perspective.  The doctor can tell you if it’s something to stress about.  Try not to stress before you need to.

________________________________________________________

(P.S. - We actually heard the heartbeat two weeks after this… )

Baby’s Heartbeat at 9 Weeks

-RookieDad Sean

My wife wanted me to keep a journal – and other books suggest it – so by golly, that’s what I intend to do. But writing down in a book my thoughts and feelings and experiences is just not how I roll. A) My handwriting is attrocious, and B) I have to have the journal with me for it to do any good. In the advent of mobile technology and wireless networking, I can journal via this blog at any time and point of any day. So if you want to know about the wiggleworm, the uterine slip & slide, the log of sympathy food-cravings, poppy the 3rd trimester yoga guru, the pink doughnut & the cervix perv, the whoo-pish ring @ checkout and more, read on and enjoy!

-RookieDad Sean

So how did she tell me? Funny story.

We did yard work the 2nd week of April. I mean yard WORK. Landscaping, cutting, trimming, gardening, tearing out weeds and pulling vines from trees in our woods – the whole shebang. As a result my poor wine grabbed head, hand, and leg-fulls of poison ivy. For those folks that think that it just grows on the ground, you are oh-so-wrong. Unfortunately we learned this the hard way.

With fibrous roots trailing up the tree and suffocating leaves squeezing all the daylight from the air around our maples and oaks, my wife started cutting and yanking, and as a result…got her very first case of poison ivy.

From what I’ve been told, the first case is always the worst, and though she was lucky to not look like some of the more serious cases you can find on Google Images (just search poison ivy – it ain’t right…), she still got it pretty bad – with hard welts and red rashes coursing up her feet, calves, thighs, bottom, arms, hands and neck; the worst of it on her lower extremities.

Now, my wife is a trooper but this is the first time she had experienced poison ivy and so she went it suffering mode. She’s not typically a whiner/whimperer so the fact that she was doing so was a red flag that this was more than mere mild discomfort. I did my best to help her with calamine lotion, a cold press, bactine, etc., but she was hurting. So, she decided that this was not something she could tough out – it was time to make an appointment for the dermatologist for professional strength-help for her ailment. Our dermatologist – we’ll call him Dr. T – prescribed her some oral corticosteroids and steroid/anti-inflammatory topical medicine.

Heather headed to the pharmacy on her way home.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, I was heading out from work. We had plans that night to make something yummy and relax with some alcoholic beverages – something my wife and I enjoy to do to release steam on select days. April 20, 2009 was a particularly crappy Monday, with nice weather but not-so-great days at work for the both of us. We decided tonight that we’d say screw it, sit on the front porch with some finely mixed drinks and imbibe away the stench of the poopy day.

As agreed, I was to hit the grocery, where she would meet me after hitting the pharmacy and the ABC store (package store for you non-Carolinians). I left three messages for her and no answer. After perusing the grocery store and picking up a few select items including mixers for the evening, I set off for home, where I met my wife.

At the same time I was mulling over mixer decisions in the Harris Teeter, she was taking pause to think about her pharmacological purchases. It had been approximately 4 days since the day she should have started her very regular menstruation. Still no sign of the red tide. Being sensible, and better safe than sorry, she thought with such heavy prescriptions that she ought to just pee on a stick just to be sure the prescriptions were safe to take.

We had decided to stop preventing in January, but had decided around March to not actively try. Indeed our pace slowed down to the point that we had intercourse only once in between her last period and the day she stood in the Walgreens pharmacy considering these things. At last she decided that, of course it was impossible, surely she wasn’t pregnant, and just to show how confident she was in that fact, she’d take her floating eyeballs into the Walgreens, relieve her overly full bladder and prove that she was just being silly by confirming the no-pregnant status by peeing on a stick.

She grabbed a pregnancy test, went into the Walgreens bathroom and went potty, dipping the stick in the pee stream while doing so. Fifteen minutes later, a very shocked little lady answered my fourth call and said that I should just go ahead home and she’d meet me there instead of the grocery store.

When I got in she said that she wanted to sit on the front porch. I wasn’t making it easy for her, and had no idea how freaked out she was. In fact, I was protesting that it was both warm outside and that I wanted to change out of my nice(r) work clothes. Nonetheless, she persisted and finally persuaded me to cop a squat on the front porch steps. She then pulled from behind her back a stick.

This was not a conversation that started with, “We’re pregnant!”, but rather “I think it’s lying. The line is too faint. What do you think?” I could tell she was a little bit in shock, but I had heard and later confirmed the near 97% accuracy of the typical pee test, even days after conception and well before a new mother would notice a missed period. I said, “Um, honey, this is saying you are pregnant. I’m pretty sure you are pregnant.”

Several additional pee-sticks later, including a digital one (yes, she incredulously bought out the pregnancy test section of the pharmacy) that very clearly read “YES+”, and she was crying and looking to me for a reaction.

Gentlemen, let me advise you – which I’ve read in several other new father books – choose your reaction wisely. No one expects you to not feel shock, fear, or momentary pause when hearing the news, but you will regret it if you do not start this path with this first initial step of chivalry, support, and love. Regardless of how you feel, you are now a father and supposed to be a supportive birth coach. I took a breath and with the luck of foresight, I responded exactly how I should have. I hugged her, told her she was definitely pregnant, that she was going to be a mommy – the best mommy in the whole of the world, and that I was so happy and excited to be a daddy, and thankful for the blessing.

An hour later as the sun was setting, we set off on our regular route around the neighborhood at fast walking pace to get in a bit of exercise and perspective. Much of the conversation was dominated by silence interspersed with “Holy shit.” By the end of the walk, we had a game plan: pick out and go see an obstetrician, get on some good prenatals, start thinking about baby names, and get some literature to get us up to speed on what in the hell we do now.

It was a start I look back on with a smile. Now, I can’t imagine not having this baby on the way and am dying – just DYING – to hold my baby.

It's positive.

-RookieDad Sean

Welcome to RookieDad Blog!

On April 20, my wife found out she was pregnant. This opened up a whole new world to me – one of doctor visits, new and restricted diets, new and unusual products, new behaviors and moods from my once very calm, cool and collected wife, and having a new set of fears, responsibilities, obligations, and emotions set out in front of me.

So, as I have always had a tendency to do as a former teacher and an OCD-afflicted zealot for knowing as much as I can about any given thing, I set out to get every prenancy book, bookmark every pregnancy site, talk to every mother, father, doctor, and childcare professional I could find. This resulted in an inordinate amount of really valuable information, tips, tricks, and advice.

Ever since that muggy April day, I knew I wanted to chronicle this experience, but after accumulating (and still accumulating) all this info, I decided to share it with all the other dads out there – soon-to-be daddies or well-initiated fathers. Hence the RookieDad blog.

Here you’ll find everything from ways to take care of your wife, to tips and tricks for RookieDads, to medical information and insights, to all things fatherhood. Also, you can check out the journal on this RookieDad’s experience as a new father.

So to all you RookieDads out there – enjoy! edify! contribute! and good luck!

RookieDad Sean