But more than that, I understand in hindsight that pregnancy is a glorious time for those of us who have a self-involved streak. Everyone asks about you all the time. Friends, family, coworkers… your husband’s friends, family, and coworkers. Even random and well meaning strangers. Plus, it’s the only time in you life when the expected answer to the question “How are you?” is not a short and simple “fine, thanks.”

Quite the opposite, people want details. How are you sleeping? How much weight have you gained? Do you feel OK? Can you still wear your shoes? When’s your next appointment? As I had a gloriously easy pregnancy, this was all quite fun. I had a little insomnia early and late in the game, but other than that suffered no ill effects from being in the family way. And who wouldn’t enjoy being the center of so much attention? Certainly not I.

The danger is that you get used to this, and then suddenly all that attention goes elsewhere. Specifically, it goes to the baby. The first two weeks or so after delivery, you can still be pretty self-centered, as people still ask a bevvy of questions. How are you recovering? How was labor? Are you sleeping OK? How much weight have you lost? Can you wear your old shoes again?

Then, right around the time you get your six-week checkup at the OBGYN’s, all this attention dries up and it’s all about the baby all the time. I have actually been greeted by family members with a simple “Where’s Simon?” if I walk in the door first and Matt is behind with the baby.

As an added insult, this deflection of interest happens right about the time that all that hair you didn’t shed for nine months comes falling out, your borrowed glowing skin recedes to whatever you normally have (Hello ProActiv!), and what was once a taut midriff that blossomed into a cute “baby bump” has become a sloppy affair with and extra inch or two of loose skin.

Then again, it can also be a relief to pass the attention baton. The more people are interested in the baby, the less they are likely to notice the aforementioned blotchy skin, thinning hair, and thick waistline. And frankly, after a few weeks my own well being is so inextricably tied to Simon that I tend to answer all queries in relation to him anyway. “How are you?” is answered with either “Great. Simon’s in a good mood today” or “Ugh. Simon’s been so fussy.”

Funnily enough, many of the questions people ask about Simon are the same as those people used to have for me. When’s his next appointment? How much weight has he gained? How’s he sleeping? Is he eating OK?

I’ve been telling Simon to relish this attention while he can, because soon enough another baby will be born into our circle of family and friends and he, too, will have to take a backseat. How will he cope? I’m not sure. But he can always start blogging…

So, what with today being D-minus-1, I figured I should count up how much I have accumulated so far. I was shocked to find 229 pennies, for a grand total of $2.29. Now that might not sound like much now, but when you consider that that’s just four months’ savings, it’s just a drop in the bucket of what Whozit’s actually going to have in the bank by 2024.

Let’s do the math, shall we? $2.29 in four months means $6.87 per year. And $6.87 per year for eighteen years is…well, yeah, I had to whip out the calculator for that one, but it’s $123.66. Now add in the original pre-birth $2.29 (as pictured above) and we’re up to $125.95. And we haven’t even started talking about interest yet…! And I won’t, because despite the fact that I work for a bank, I have absolutely no idea how that stuff works. But trust me, after 18 years of interest that $125.95 will be enormous. Whozit might just retire at 18 instead of bothering with four more years of school.

(Special thanks to Diana for the self-illuminating Burger King Gandalf Goblet. You probably thought Jessica made me ditch it by now, didn’t you?)

It’s a terribly odd feeling–not at all what I expected. I’ve transfered my projects (and boy was THAT a lot of work), introduced the freelancer covering for me to my authors, wrapped up proposals, and said my temporary goodbyes to colleagues. And yet, this Friday night, I’m still thinking of all the little things I’d like to do next week and generally fretting as though I’ll be back next week the same as ever.

Not sure if this means I’m a creature of habit, obsessive compulsive, or just in denial about the changes coming my way. Lots of folks suggested I take time off before my due date to relax, but I think I’ll be happy when this liminal time is over and I’m off to my next all-consuming venture.

For my nephew Nathan (now 12), I knitted a yellow lace chevron blanket that was the first project I ever finished.

When Olivia came along (now nearly eight), I got ambitious and decided to try my hand at intarsia, or picture knitting. The afghan turned out fine, but I learned I hated intarsia and the project about killed me.

Madeline (5 1/2) and Benjamin (4) both got afghans I designed myself after being inspired by Barbara Walker’s books on knitting patterns. They were both a blast to work on.

So what masterpiece awaits Baby Whozit? Oops. I flopped for my own baby! After toying with several yarns and a dozen patterns, nothing inspired me. But I had to have something for Whozit, and the clock was ticking down…

So I spent the last couple of weeks knitting up a quick sweater, which turned out to be much fun, and now awaits only a monogram in the center diamond to complete. This is perfect, as I know I wouldn’t have had time to do a size 3 months sweater after the baby arrives, but I’d feel slightly superstitious about finishing something before the baby comes, too.

—

Cool beans! The above picture and text came from my new cell phone thanks to the Postie plugin for WordPress (and some config tweaking by moi). I really wanted to get this done before we left for the hospital so that we could keep you updated as things developed — and so I could post Whozit’s first breathtaking pictures here as soon as possible. Whoo-hoo!

(I should clear up the Tristan bit. We’re not getting rid of him or anything — we just fully anticipate his taking one look at Whozit, hissing through bared fangs and making a beeline for the attic, never to be seen again. I’d rather this not happen, so we’re going to follow the SPCA’s recommendations for introducing new babies to pets.)

I expected to have fun at my shower, but not as much as I did. First of all, the little greed monster within could not help but be overwhelmed and delighted by the sheer volume of stuff I received. It took a couple of cars and a truck to haul everything home. But the real treat was realizing how much family Whozit is going to grow up with. Because I waited a relatively long time to have a baby, I always assumed my child’s extended family would be smaller than mine. Not so.

I counted three grandmothers, two aunts, four great-aunts, and several honorary aunts in attendance, most of whom are home full or half-time. And that’s not counting the grandfathers (two), uncles (three regular, two great, one great-great), or first cousins (four) who also also live within 20 minutes of us. Kiddo is going to have a full family life, and I couldn’t be happier to know there will so many people for baby to love and be loved by.

I don’t know about you, but I think all ultrasound photos look alike. I mean, there are obvious differences over time as the kid develops (we had four different ultrasounds — don’t ask), but I’ve seen ultrasounds of most the nieces and nephews and, apart from the text, I wouldn’t be able to distinguish them from Whozit if I had to.

All that being said, I still think they’re pretty darned cool.

Or not. Yesterday dear friends in San Francisco called to check in on us. Mid-conversation, in an attempt to fulfill this pledge, I remembered that half of this couple is turning 40 this year. It’s a landmark birthday and something I had planned to appropriately celebrate.

So, I say, “Hey, this is a big year for you, too. You turn the big 4-0 this September, right?” Pause. “Oh my God, it’s October. We totally missed your birthday.” Worse still, Matt realizes he called a mutual friend during this person’s birthday party and still didn’t connect the dots.

This does not bode well for us, I fear. Next month our niece Olivia turns 8. Let’s hope we snap out of it in time to remember.

A few dillies to consider:

1. Will an epidural delay my labor or increase my odds of having a C-section? Well, depending on what study you read, the answer is one of the following:

a. Not if you wait until you are at least 5 cm. dialated.

b. Yes on both counts.

c. No. Even if you have the epidural in early labor.

2. Is amniocentesis risky?

a. Yes, there is a slight risk of miscarriage (about .5-1%) following amniocentesis.

b. No, the miscarriage rate following amniocentesis is about the same as for any other second trimester woman: correlation is not causation.

c. No, women who have amniocentesis are slightly less likely to miscarry than those who do not have the procedure. (presumably because having amniocentesis is an index of receiving better prenantal care)

3. Will breastfeeding increase my infant’s IQ?

A. Yes. But that’s because of the DHA in breastmik, and new formulas include it. So subject to change.

B. Yes. And the DHA in formulas is not as good as the DHA in breastmilk.

C. No. Mothers who breastfeed are simply more likely to be better educated than mothers who do not, that education correlates to higher IQs, and IQ is inherited. (Link to study–props to Matt for guessing that one!)

If you think books–even good ones like the Mayo guide are a big help sorting through this morass–you’d be wrong. I’ve noticed two trends in all printed material about pregnancy and delivery. The first is to shoot towards the conservative, law-suit avoiding extreme. For example. If a study shows that women who consume over 300 mg of caffeine a day (the equivalent of six cups of coffee) are slightly more likely to deliver a baby with low birthweight, you would expect the literature to advise “minimal caffeine intake.” You’d be wrong. The literature instead states “it’s best, of course, to avoid caffeine entirely.” Well, to heck with that! I’m enjoying a lovely cup of mango Ceylon tea (loose leaf, with caffeine) even as I type.

And the second trend is to present totally contradictory, unhelpful information and then attach the tagline “Only you and your doctor know what’s best for your pregnancy and your baby” at the end. What a cop out! If that’s the case, why did I pay $24.99 for a stupid book to tell me what’s best for me and my baby?

Stay tuned for my tirade about whose advice to follow regarding sleep, pacifiers, schedules, introducing solids, etc.