Of Bumps and Jumps and Things They Don't Tell You

Holy Santa Claus shirt, Batman!!!

Beth has popped.

See? Told ya. Her baby bump is no longer a meager paunch, it is a full-blown bump. We're both grateful because before it was hard for outsiders to tell if she was actually pregnant or just gaining weight. Now there's no argument. At least, no argument among those more observant than a dead sea cucumber.

In the midst of this bump, there've been some jumps. And some kicks. Oh, have there been kicks. Sometimes they come about as a response to my voice, which is kinda cool. I speak, and my daughter roundhouse kicks my wife's uterus. Goal achieved. Even without my help, Penelope is seeking to establish a reputation as an amazing pre-natal soccer star. And Beth probably has internal hemorrhaging from said kicks. The "guilt trip your child" list grows ever longer in Beth's favor. And these things are to be expected.

What I didn't expect were all of MY changes. And I don't just mean gaining ten pounds. Let me see if I can illustrate...

I've never been one to cry or get emotional. I mean, like anyone, there are times when I would be touched, especially by emotive music or spiritual things. But today I realized that I've been getting choked up quite a bit over the past few weeks. Over silly, trivial things.

I choked up thinking about taking my daughter to Disneyland. I choked thinking about her first Hallowe'en, or her first Christmas when she knows about and believes in Santa Claus. I choked up hearing the Star Wars theme and a Jason Mraz song I associate with Penelope now ("I Won't Give Up"). And I got choked up when I saw a little girl and her daddy at the Fiesta Olive Garden. I even wanted to use the word "cute" to describe her, all wrapped up in pink and frill. She was so tiny and cute. I felt like a estrogen-laden, tree-hugging sap. And that's putting it fairly mildly.

As it turns out, what they don't tell you about pregnancy could fill a few dozen books. One of these hidden facts is that when you are a guy living with a pregnant woman, you start to... change... Hormones and chemicals re-align. Your body starts pumping stuff it really shouldn't, estrogen being a case in point. These chemicals and hormones serve to forcefully calm down the macho manly man within said guy, and make him into a blubbering mess. It's possibly a process to help the man acclimate to being nurturing to an infant, rather than trying to play four-square with it.

Not, in fact, a sport involving newborns.

So now the slightest thing can choke me up. The Disney castle sequence before films. The Indiana Jones theme. Seeing a toddler babbling and hopping through a restaurant. Things that make me realize that I'm becoming a father, and that not only do I get to raise a child now...

I get to be a kid myself again.

... except, with more crying involved.

Meanwhile, one month later...

So we're having a girl. At once I'm validated, ecstatic, exuberant, and...

Scared the hell out of my mind.

A girl. How in the world do I raise a girl? It's a daunting task for a guy who has only brothers and very few cousins growing up.

Well, to be honest, I know how to raise a girl. I just love her mother completely. And her, of course. But it's still a daunting task for a man whose every problem or obstacle in life can be dealt with by a Star Wars quote. Now, as several keep reminding me, she will be her own person (I am EXTREMELY excited to see who she will become) and like her own things. BUT they will probably be girly things. And girly things and I don't get along so well.

This may not bode well for my sanity...

Her name is going to be Penelope Mae Mosey. It's an amazing name, Beth and I are extremely proud of it, and anyone who says otherwise is a git. I keep reminding Beth that I do actually have a chance to change that name when she is blessed. However, I fear for my life should I go rogue and name my baby daughter something to the effect of Door. Or Leia. Yeah, I'm fairly certain I'd lose an eye or an ear for the name Leia Kenobi Mosey. Bad idea.

At this point, Beth is doing pretty well, considering the horrors Penny has put her through thus far. On average, she voids her stomach contents (that's a fun way for saying something nasty) about once a week. So that's good. Oh! and she'd hate for me to say this, but she's also actually gained weight. And I've lost a tad. Huzzah!

We've begun to feel Penelope kicking. Or clawing. Or headbutting. It's really hard to tell what she is in reality doing because she moves a LOT. Apparently Beth has a trapeze installed in her uterus for our little acrobat. When we were in the midst of the latest ultrasound, Penny was upside down. Not only that, but she refused to show her face to the camera. She could be shy. Or the biggest drama queen ever. Come to think of it, that is a lot like Beth when she doesn't have any makeup on...

Little Penelope Mae Mosey.

In other news, Beth has been... growing. Her belly, yes. But also her ankles and her feet. She likes to call them her cankles, as they can become one conjoint mass. Admittedly, she really shouldn't have worn heels the other day, and she paid the price. It was almost a week before her feet deflated to their proper size and shape. Boy am I glad for small favors. Like a Y-chromosome.

Mommy is great. Baby is great. Daddy is... rocking back and forth in the corner.