Recently in Knocked Up East of 61st Category

First question Islanders.  What are these?!

Here's a closer look:

They kinda look a bit like glass.

These were washed up all over the beach (on your way to Palisade Palms) with what I know to be Man o' Wars:

I was on my way down to the water's edge with GB in tow when Mondo hollered, "halt!"  I mean, I saw these things but it being so early, it didn't register that maybe they are/were alive.  They look like dark, smooth river stones until you bend down closer.  Mondo thinks they are baby Portuguese Man o' Wars.

Why were we on the beach this early, nonetheless during Spring Break?  Because sleeping in around the Mondo house is pretty much non-existent these days.  And like I mentioned in my Galveston Monthly column, we are rediscovering and discovering for the first time aspects of our beloved Island due to the fantastic addition to our family.

My fellow Islanders, I have a truly shameful confession here.  I don't think Mondo and I have actually ever watched the sunrise on the Island. 

Even a cheap digital camera does well with Gtown sunrises!

I keep thinking that this is false: I have all of these glorious images that spring to mind, and then I realize they are not from actually witnessing this fantastic feat of nature.  Nope.  I'm recalling Billy & Ruthie's breathtaking photography from gtownsurf.com  Apparently, their artistry is so stunning that they have infiltrated my memories! :0)

Mondo had a much better idea than our usual loafing for Sunday morning, "let's go to the beach and watch the sunrise!"  So fun!  GB's first trip to the beach and her first sunrise.  Thank goodness we keep a beach bag stocked year round and our coffeepot is swift. 

So, firsts all around for the Mondo clan include both a first trip to the beach - first sand between the toes! (and in mouth) - and our first Island sunrise.  Doesn't get any better.

 

 

 

I just didn't realize that with our bouncing bundle of BOI, my mobility in and around the Island would be severely altered if not destroyed completely.  It started out as keeping GB around the house until her 2 month old shots and because she was born in the midst of flu season.  And then we got slammed with two Arctic blasts (so weird when I think about this past summer's Africa heat).  The first blast resulted in a pipe burst in the attic which decimated her room (thankfully she still sleeps in our room with us).  Then all of the Mondos got sick.  Like for the entire month of February.  Needless to say, I'm sure some of our friends believe we have been abducted.


This in turn has affected my ability to blog about my love for the Island and all she's got going on with her bad self.

So when it came around again for my turn to write the IBC column in the March issue of Galveston Monthly (one of us IBCers does an IBC column each month), I was sweating bullets.  I implored my fellow IBCs - "what do I write about?"  Aside from work, an occasional trip to Target, GB's school, or a stroll around our neighborhood, we've mostly roved about the Island in the Rogue.  Otherwise I have been luxuriating (read: trapped) in the house.  When I stopped to really think about it though, I realized that my perspective of Galveston had changed since she was born simply because she had entered our lives.  Thankfully, this led me to the subject of my column.

 . . . Which then led me back here to blogging (ahem, lack thereof).  I can't write some of the same stuff that I had before I was even Knocked Up East of 61st.  Again, I'm not out and about.  I mean, we missed the entire first weekend of Mardi Gras because Mondo had bronchitis, GB was trying to kick what was either one slammin' cold or the dreaded RSV, and I was trying to kick the remnants of whatever GB had given to me.  We loafed in our living room in pajamas all weekend enjoying the intermittent sounds of GB's nebulizer and fireworks and catching glimpses of floats that cut through our neighborhood.  Bless smart phones and Facebook for photo uploads.

 

But, this weekend.  Nothing is gonna stop us.

We're all pretty much well now.  The grandparents are coming to town (been humming this line to "Santa Claus is Coming to Town").  And we have spots on a Mardi Gras float for the Momus parade.  Yes Sireee.

We are so excited, we are effervescing!  You know why?  We have been out of the house alone, together, for more than 30 minutes exactly two times since GB was born.  So, we're ready to put this Saturday night on blast.

And I'll finally have something to blog about.  Woo-hoo!
 

So, as many of you my already know, I'm Knocked Up East of 61st no longer.  It's hard to believe that our little "Piglet" is already over 5 weeks old and hard to believe that I'm just now able to type out this entry!

I may be late, but Mondo and I are so excited to announce the arrival of our little Miss Georgia Brooks Scott into our family!  And for those who have followed this series, just an FYI - the name "Georgia" was not on our original name list.  It came up about 2 weeks before she was born and on her birthday, she looked like a Georgia and not like any of the other names we had chosen.  So, surprises all around on the name.
 
Scrolling back through the KUE61st entries, it's so hard to believe that she's already here and yet, as I sit here in my pajamas at 3:00pm because I haven't showered, slept much, or ate much that requires utensils, it is as though she's always been here.

While this is my last short and sweet post in this series, the Mondo's and Islander By Choice have one more announcement - just in time for the holiday season too!  Drum roll please . . .

After so many requests for BOI merchandise, we finally gave in to the masses.  We are so excited to unveil IBC's Born on the Island Creeper!

Not only do babies never have enough creepers (Georgia's record is 7 creepers/onesies in one day), but these make great gifts including a perfect stocking stuffer for the new favorite BOI in your life!  You can purchase the official IBC BOI Creeper at IBC's online store at www.ibcgalveston.com or at its exclusive Strand location at Gracie's at 2228 Strand (check them out on their Facebook page too)!

Now on to the adventure that is 2 IBC's rearing a BOI!
 

Finally, after some gentle reminders and gruff ribbing, the moment you've all been waiting for (ok, like 5 of you) . . . drum roll . . . the nursery!  My apologies. I know I said that I'd post pics weeks ago  - maybe months? - but we got caught up in a serious case of nesting. 

 

When you live in a historic home, you just know that they are never truly finished.  For us, even with our big rehab projects complete, we still had accumulated quite a list of minor repairs, updates, and ideas that we just kept putting off.  So with Piglet coming soon, we've spent weekend after weekend over this summer working on the nursery and everything else in the house. 

 

(Related note: I did forget to mention one thing on last week's list of "most" that I started.  The cruelest aspect of pregnancy?  For me it's been that the second round and strongest urge to nest has dovetailed perfectly with my body's limited mobility and another round of exhaustion).    

 

So, the nesting has been something fierce at our house for both of us.  Exhibit A: Apparently the removal of kitchen cabinet dust and clutter was a must as we were caught red-handed by a friend emptying the contents of our cabinets. Dang camera phones!

 

 

Onto the nursery.  Remember when I said that we were shooting for an Island-colors meets vintage look/theme for Piglet's room?  Well, this is where we ended up based on these vintage-inspired Amy Butler fabrics that were used for the crib bedding:

 

 

Aside from not wanting to spend tons of cash on furniture (we're saving that for the "doozy" of a stroller), we wanted to incorporate as much of what we already own and family pieces as well as purchase whatever we needed at local Island businesses.  And admittedly, our girl Denise totally got us hooked on ohdeedoh.com so then putting together a unique room became a challenge.  And a way for me to continue working on the house.  And shop local.  And I think you get where I'm going with this.  At the end of the post, I'll list all the local places where we purchased items for her room.

 

So, let the tour begin. . . (Disclaimer: We are still trying to figure out this new digital camera, so apologies in advance for any wonkiness).

 

We couldn't pass up this vintage print and frame we found at Collectors Gallery.

 

There are only 2 new pieces of furniture in the room. One is the classic of all cribs, the Jenny Lind, that Piglet's grandparents purchased for her and the other is the toddler "Pick-a-Book" (AKA child's bookcase) from her Great Aunt Rita.  That little side table is actually a vintage pie safe that was also one of the Mondo's first antique/vintage purchases back in the day.

The Amy Butler bedding we ordered from Etsy at the online shop, SewFunbyMonique. (We highly recommend her and her work). And Piglet's other grandmother, Mondo's mom, made her a gorgeous matching crib quilt and baby blankets out of the same Amy Butler fabrics.

 

The walls were our biggest challenge as we couldn't pick a paint color. Who knew the perfect shade of gray would be such a tough code to crack?  Twelve paint samples later, we settled on what you now see: Benjamin Moore's Gray Horse.  (Thank you ohdeedoh for the tip on the perfect gray & the rocking moose!)  For artwork, we picked up a few vintage pieces like the art on her door and the tiny French prints, and we rehabbed a vintage mirror that was Piglet's great grandparents'.  For the artwork collage over the crib, we pulled images from one of my favorite childhood books, Animals should definitely not wear clothing (to this book I totally credit my love of the absurd), and scanned images of original suffrage postcards featuring little girls. We then purchased inexpensive frames from Garden Ridge and Hobby Lobby and voila!  A wall art collage for roughly $60!

 

 

The Hoosier cabinet will serve as both storage and a changing station as the enamel counter pulls out for a deeper workspace.  This is one of the first vintage pieces the Mondo's purchased together, so after a light sanding and new paint job, it is now serving a new purpose. (Don't worry, no pregnant ladies or developing Piglets were harmed in the rehabbing of vintage pieces as Mondo handled the hazardous stuff).
 

 

Those screen doors?  Those are actually the doors to two floor to ceiling corner closets we had put in during year 1's first big rehab project.  The vintage Galveston screen doors we bought for $15 a door at GHF's Architectural Salvage Warehouse. 

 

The dresser was my girlhood dresser that had previously served as my mother's when she was a little girl. With some light sanding, a protective coat, and new hardware and relined drawers, it's ready to be passed on to another generation. The drawer hardware comes from the newest shop on the Strand, Bungalow, and the vintage French paper lining comes from Hendley Market.

 

That cute vintage pink shelf?  Well, that was a great find at Island Relics located at 22^nd & Broadway. And it is filled with all kinds of vintage family pieces as well as finds from around the Island, including mermaid paraphernalia from Nautical Antiques & Decor, where you can also purchase your IBC merchandise. Ahem.

 

Only thing we're still on the hunt for (and we may have found a winner), is a rocking chair or glider that isn't a humongous room-eater. 

 

So, here's the rest of our mother-of-all-sources list for Island shopping - baby-related or not.  One last thing, unfortunately that awesome red rocking moose is from Ikea and not the Island. . . Sigh.

 

Gracie's at 2228 Strand

Antique Warehouse at 25^th & Postoffice

Nautical Antiques & Decor at 22^nd & Mechanic

Island Relics at 22^nd & Broadway

Hendley Market at 2010 Strand

Collectors Gallery at 23^rd & Postoffice

23^rd & P Antiques, shockingly located at 23^rd Street & Avenue P

GHF Architectural Salvage Warehouse at 908 23^rd Street in the old 1909 John Sealy Garage

Bungalow Dry Goods Company at 2325 Strand

 

Online Sources:

SewFunbyMonique on Etsy: crib bedding

Target online: crib

 

Mainland Sources:

Ikea: curtains, rug, red rocking moose

Garden Ridge Pottery: baskets, frames

Hobby Lobby: frames, mattes

Here we are at the 35, almost 36 week mark. So only 5 weeks to go. And, really, I know that I could be sitting here, writing this - you sitting there, reading this - and only be a couple of weeks from delivering. That's just scary.

 

And I'm not the only one. I saw utter freak-out written across Mondo's face for perhaps the first time. And it happened after putting together our insanely complicated high chair. It's currently in our kitchen. Mondo keeps having a staring contest with it. And mumbling: "there's a high chair in our kitchen." It's somewhere between a bewildered statement and a rhetorical question.

 

 

 

 

 

I suspect the Mondo's are avoiding some key steps as a psychological attempt to stave off Piglet's impending arrival. Evidence:

 

* We've had the car seat for weeks but it remains uninstalled.

* We've had a cradle in a corner of our bedroom for weeks and it remains untouched.

* Our bedroom (where Piglet will be for however long she needs) is still in utter disarray.

* My bag is not packed.

* Neither is the Piglet's.

 

Freak-out, super scary moment thus far?  (TMI Warning for the faint!!!) 

Last week at my first of now weekly doctor's appointments I found out I'm already dilated 1 cm.  I know, I know. That could mean nothing or everything. But, either way, this girl is coming soon. And while some, or many of you, may be wondering why I would share that on a blog, let me tell you why. 

 

Most embarrassing thus far?

After last week's appointment, I called my mom to give her an update. She proceeds to tell my dad, which is totally cool. Here's where it gets weird. While at dinner Friday evening, mutual friends of both ours and my parents inform us that they too know of the current status of my cervix. Ummm, what?!  "Yeah, you're dad told me when I talked to him the other day." So let's recap, shall we? My father and family friend were discussing my cervix. Fabulous guys. Just to make this complete: in case you didn't know (b/c I didn't), cervical checks suck. You can uncover your eyes now. 

 

The most annoying? 

I'm running out of clothes. While I can still tie my shoes (from the side), I don't know how much longer I can wear shoes other than flip flops due to the swelling. I'm out of tops (dresses are still good). I had started wearing Mondo's t-shirts to the gym and around the house at least 2 months ago.  But, that all changed in one week. Literally from week 34 to 35, I can no longer wear his collection of IBC t-shirts without showing lower belly. (I wonder has "belly cleavage" taken off as an official term yet?) Even my maternity shirts are starting to revolt. Dear Lord.

 

 

 

The most uncomfortable? 

My sleep is jacked. So far, not because of pain, discomfort, or even the 3 to 4 trips to the bathroom each night. I totally had gotten into the zone with those things. No, my sleep is jacked because on weekends (of all times), after one of my trips to the loo, my brain goes on a continuous loop of minor, yet enduring anxiety about what is left to be done. These preggo hormones take worry and existentialism to an entirely new level. The worst was waking up at 1:30am and never going back to sleep. Maybe my body is in practice for the reportedly soul-destroying deprivation that comes once Piglet arrives? 

 

You know when I said I was over it? 

Well, I must be channeling Sammi Sweetheart from that pantheon of culture, Jersey Shore, because I'm done. I knew it was going to get worse: the size of the belly, my mobility, the swelling, the sciatica. But it is so much more trying than I could imagine. I think it's the cumulative impact. Right now 5 more weeks is feeling like that epic journey towards Mount Doom.

 

Really, I'm somewhere between being ready to have Piglet already and being terrified of having Piglet already. But, when I step back from the precipice of anxiety, I know everything is okay. 

 

Except when I stop to think about labor.

---

 

It's official.  I'm over it.  Being pregnant that is.  And I believe the worst is about to hit because I'm now officially 30 weeks along.  Which means I still have 10 more to go.

 

Aside from minor edema, for the first time ever I now have heartburn (my deepest sympathies to regular sufferers - I truly had no idea).  And my hips and back hurt all the time.  What might be the worst for me: I come from a long line of hyperactive folks so facing difficulty in such mundane tasks as, uh, I don't know - moving - is a tad annoying.  Bending over?  Well, let's just say that no one wants to see that, and that it's getting close to a no-go. 

 

The cherry on top: I've determined that I now look like a bloated snowman.  (Mondo says I'm adorable, but he kinda has to say that).  And while channeling the stunning visage of said holiday character, did I mention, it's soooooo hhhooootttt?!

 

Ok, ok.  I'm done griping about my current ailments.  Now, for an interesting observation I've made over the past 30 weeks.  Folks sure are squirrelly about pregnancy and babies, and I'm not just talking about the knock-down, drag-out fights over co-sleeping vs. crying it out.  I think I can speak for both Mondo and myself when I say that you can learn a lot about people by how they react to the prospects of baby names and colors.

 

Names

As many of you may have noticed, I've never mentioned names for Piglet.  There's a reason.  Because we're actually taking some great advice:  We're not telling anyone.  Actually, we haven't decided on a name, but we're also not telling anyone because opinions are like, well, you know the saying . . . everyone's got one.  We do have a list narrowed to 5 names. 

 

Oftentimes when people ask about names, if we say anything other than we haven't picked a name, they get defensive and sometimes angry.  (Squirrelly I tell ya).  Regardless of if we say that we don't know or that we're not sharing, we get peppered with names, "tips," and of course the list of what we should absolutely not name Piglet.  We really like all 5 of our choices, and each has a very special meaning to us, so we don't want that ruined inadvertently because "So-and-so named their Pekinese that" or "I went to high school with a so-and-so and they were a jerk." 

 

Mainly, we think the minute we see Piglet, we'll know the right name.  I'll give a hint though:  none of the 5 are in the top 300 names for 2009.  (Disclaimer:  for Piglet relatives who do know the 5 names in consideration, a reminder that you swore an oath).

 
The Pink Nightmare 

While I'm not planning on sharing names, as promised, I will post pictures of the nursery and bedding very soon.  It's just not finished yet.  Here's what I can tell you about both the nursery and Piglet's future attire: there will be limited to zero pink.  Seriously.  Some of you may not be too shocked as I alluded to this before, and we're sticking to it. 

 

Before folks start going postal, here's the deal:  We don't hate pink.  We're just not fans.  And we certainly don't hate your pink.  We just don't really "do" pink at casa de Mondo.  Ok, ok, so I also bristle at the rapidly increasing commercialization of gender.  (Anyone seen the pink toy vacuum cleaner?  Saw it at our Target recently. For reals). 

 

Mostly, we just don't like pink.  If at some point Piglet goes gaga for pink, so be it.  For now, she won't know the difference.

 

For all of our dear friends and family who are overwrought with fear, doubt, and sheer sorrow that we don't want to go all pink princess for Piglet.  Have no fear.   

 

Historically, pink was the color for boys until roughly - get this- the 1940's!  Apparently pink was all boy back in the day because it was related to the color red, a more masculine, active color.  So, blue was for girls, a more subdued color and related to the Virgin Mary.  I got a good chuckle thinking of some of Gtown's historical grand figures decked out in pink.  (Think Colonel Moody or Ike Kempner).

 

Oh yeah, and both boys and girls wore dresses back in the day too.  So, she'll be fine.  Pinky swear.

 

We're not totally militant about it though.  You'll see.  There will be some pink in the nursery. 

 

I'm quite certain that even if strangers mistake her for a boy because we have not donned her in a hot pink, bedazzled princess fedora, she'll get over it.  I did.  I was pretty much bald until I was three and was clothed in a whole range of hues.

 

Besides, this is Galveston.  Land of the eccentric.  The accepted.  The avant-garde.  And if Gail Borden could ride around town on a pet bull, then I think we can handle a Piglet without pink.

Women (mostly) have been telling me that I will change - that the image of myself in my mind's eye will change . . . forever.   And I can feel this shift already, it's slight, but I can also feel the ominous future shift(s).  I mean, I'm not someone that necessarily believes in essential  experiences, but I don't see how this won't change me. 

 

The metanarrative of motherhood has loomed before me like an ominous cliff for years.  (I keep thinking of that famous picture of buffalo being chased over a precipice).  And the soul-sucking vacuum of "what it means to be a mother" and "good mothers vs. bad mothers" creeps into our house every evening when I let my mind go quiet (ok, a dull chatter is closer to reality).

 

So confession time.  (Don't worry, I'm not gonna go all Jenny McCarthy on you though do read her pregnancy book if you're going through your first pregnancy because there is a ton of stuff no one tells you.  Truly.  Like gross stuff.  Stop asking.  I won't tell you.  At least not on a blog).

 

I've been trying to imagine myself as a mother  and imagining Mondo and I as parents. Just as I gawked at myself in the mirror the morning of my wedding and announced "do I look like some dude's wife?!"  I sometimes have a hard time grappling with the fact that I'm going to be someone's mother.  I know Mondo is struggling a bit too, but I have no worries.  He's going to be an incredible dad; I've always known that about him.  In fact knowing this about him sealed the deal for me.

 

Recently my heart has been put to rest.  Finally something that speaks to us!  So, if you have not watched Away We Go, get thee immediately to Netflix.  And if you're reading this thinking "man, that is soooo last year. Where have they been?"  Go easy on me - we don't see movies much anymore (see the calendar of events on IBC's homepage for reasons why).  Here's the trailer if you haven't seen the flick, otherwise the rest of my post will have you crinkling your brow.

 

Basically this is my generation's pregnancy/baby movie (Knocked Up is a close second) which like other she's-having-my-baby films is also about growing up.  I recognized every person, including us, in the movie in our own journey thus far over the past almost 7 months (particularly this scene).  Mondo's overall judgment: "the most romantic movie I've ever seen."  Seriously.

 

In the film, Verona (mom-to-be) says, "you know, we don't have to stay here."  And her man/dad-to-be says, "Well, where would we go?"  It would be good to be near someone we know, she says.  So, secretly, I've agonized over the future of the Island.  Not-so-secretly, so has everyone else. 

 

It got me thinking a lot about the Island.  And being pregnant east of 61^st Street.  And the long road to recovery.  Hurricanes.  City Council.  The fact that we happen to lack both a curb and a sidewalk in front of our house.  The ghosts.  GCDN forums.  Teeth gnashing.  Human frailty.  Schools.  Setbacks.  Pot holes.  My mind goes onward.

 

But then it got me thinking about the Island.  Again. 

 

And 1839.  Because it's not Houston.  1900 Storm Survivors.  Ike Survivors.  The human spirit.  Crazy locals/Best friends.  Our soulful architecture.  Our soulful community.  The ghosts.  The art.  The profound beauty.  The profound heartbreak.  Island scuttlebutt.  Our little piece of history.  Our town.  Our Island.

 

Glen Campbell people!  Glen friggin' Campbell.

 

(So, Adrienne, take a deep breath).

 

We're not going anywhere.  Even though it's Africa-hot out right now.

---

 

Last week I mentioned how I wrote Piglet her first letter.  While I'm not going to post it here (truly some things in this internet era are still private), I will share a general sentiment included in my letter.

 

It seems as though (and some people say) that oftentimes parents project who they are, wish they were, and wish they weren't onto their children.  Perhaps that is so.  I'm venturing that it's all part of the myth of who we are and become.  Predictably, part of my letter considered her looks: who she will look like and what personality traits of her mom and dad she'll inherit. (Yes, Nancy, I remember, she could inherit my most embarrassing traits).  Or I wonder if she'll carry recessive genes that make us joke about the milkman.

 

I wrote about my wonder and curiosity of her and this wonder's connection to legacy, family, and family myths.  While this letter is certainly addressed to a much older person, I feel as though it's important for her to know where she comes from as that surely will shape who she is to become, whether she likes it or not. 

 

I grew up with particular family myths about the women in my family, the family name (my maiden name is Spanish), and the interwoven tales of my ancestors and Texas history.  Of course I heard about my Yankee side of the family too (we can trace that side back to the Mayflower), but the Texas history and tale-telling always seemed to light up the eyes of the storytellers.  From my grandfather who in his youth was a curly redhead, a boxer, and a writer - who penned the most exquisite poem on the birth of Texas I'll ever read - to one of my great aunts who was one of the first women in Texas to own her own cotton gin (she also refused to marry and seems to have been her own version of Bettie Brown).  Of course we have a connection to the capture of Pancho Villa as well as a former President. (Doesn't it seem we're all related somehow to a former President?)  Mondo will surely share the stories from his family including that Piglet's great, great grandfather learned to fly from the Wright Brothers.

 

While growing up, I truly enjoyed these facts and stories but only as much as the storyteller had in reciting them.  In particular, my father's love of history permeated much of my childhood, and I admit, it annoyed me to full-on bouts of eye-rolling.  This love practically dictated every family vacation too.  From trips across Texas to Washington, DC, history was included somehow.  Oh how I loathed my father those hot summers as his long legs lumbered what seemed miles ahead of the rest of us on the way to some other document, battleship, or fort.  But, that all changed somewhere in my mid- to late twenties I would guess.  All of a sudden, a switch was flipped, and history and legacy aligned in my mind in a way that had not happened before - it became personal.

 

Because that's part of what brought us to Galveston.  While I don't know too much on how my family's history may overlap with Galveston, I felt a deep kinship when we came here (as did Mondo) because of our city's architecture, the gateway to Texas history. 

 

And what I want to impart to my daughter is truly that the story of her life is all her own, yet will align ever so slightly with those who have come before her.  So, while some may choose another place to rear (Grandma would demand I use the correct verb here) a child, Galveston is our home and provides opportunities, experiences, and perhaps perspectives not available just anywhere. 

 

Of course, I imagine, Piglet will have much more to bear in the history department than either of her parents:  she'll live in one of the most historic cities in Texas.  In a 140+ year old home.  Surrounded by her parents' architecture and history books on our fair Island.  Perhaps one day, she'll note the myths that were passed down to her, including that the year of her birth, Lost Galveston, written by Brian M. Davis, was released and there's a signed copy in her library, dedicated to her.

 

FYI: If you haven't planned to attend already, do consider attending the reception/lecture/booksigning and exhibit for Lost Galveston this Saturday, July 31 from 6pm to 9pm at the U.S. Custom House, 502 20th.  Oh, and bring a hanky. 

 

This past Friday night, Mondo and I embarked on another incubation adventure: the 3D Baby Scan. It all started after our regularly scheduled 2D anatomy scan at UTMB back in May.  That was the first time we got to see Piglet since she was a mere fetal pole (basically a little node with a blinking heart). The experience was amazing after a) I got over the fact that initially she looked like a Sea Monkey, and b) we were so fortunate to discover that she was developing normally. I only wish now I had written down the name of our sonographer - she was fantastic. Equal parts easy-going and informative.

 

After the appointment, we rushed to the Culpepper's shop and to other friends' offices showing off pictures and announcing that Piglet is in fact a girl (still sorry to those who lost that bet). We were saddened to discover that we would have to wait until her birthday to see her again. I believe that day marked the beginning of offspring addiction that to my pre-pregnancy self seemed totally alien. I could feel the rush of that addiction take hold: I mean, guys, she totally waved at us and surely it looks like she will have ginormous eyes like her parents.

 

Being the total hardcore father-to-be, Mondo began the 3D/4D Baby Scan search. We were a bit rabid: we had to see our Piglet again before October (fingers crossed as I'd like to keep this little chica in the oven for as long as possible).

 

As if a sign from above, Heather Martinez, the owner of 4D Baby Scan of Bay Area Houston invited us over for a scan!  Although the office is located in Dickinson, all is right with the world:  Heather, a burgeoning IBC, and her BOI husband just moved to the Island this past spring, family in tow. They bought one of the last homes Nicholas Clayton designed in the East End. It was fate I tell you - seeing Piglet again and supporting local! 

 

Now, I've read about how you should talk to your baby, read, listen to music, and it's even been recommended to sing. I've done some talking and Kevin and I are reading East of Eden out loud (my fav book), but sometimes I feel a little insane. 

 

I mean, intellectually I know there's a baby in there, but sometimes it's more of an abstract concept. I mean, who is she? And, that rippling and sometime roiling feeling in my belly could still sometimes be mistaken for gas (those of you who have been pregnant feel me on this). I was hoping to see Piglet again not only because I just needed to see her but also because I needed to re-confirm that there really is a baby in here. Sometimes when I think about it, there is something so Sigourney Weaver a la Alien about being pregnant. (Don't worry, I won't link to that awesome yet gruesome scene, but it's easily found on YouTube if you're so inclined).

 

So, Heather, Queen of 4D Baby Scan, I have to tell you, you gave me personally, the greatest gift I will have been given, well, until Piglet is born. While I may still have been processing the entire event when we left your shop that evening (I'm a delayed emotional translator - Mondo will confirm), at 6:00 am the next morning, I was downstairs writing the first letter to my daughter. That's the absolute power of my experience. 

 

I feel as though I met my daughter for the first time (ok, more like a bad version of a one-way mirror but roll with me people). This is truly the greatest gift I was given: to connect with her in a way I was unable to until now.

Truly more important than the 325 pictures on a CD and the 30 minute DVD of Piglet's eye opening, feet eating, and face grimacing, was not just seeing her, but was being in the moment: watching her onscreen (giant onscreen might I add) as she moved in my belly. I now feel connected to her in a way I hadn't before this scan. So, while I may not be singing to Piglet anytime soon (and honestly, she doesn't want me to), talking to her doesn't seem so bizarre. 

 

On another note, in case you hadn't notice, I totally recommend 4D Baby Scan of Bay Area Houston. Aside from the amazing experience itself and Heather's graciousness, they offer a customized, relaxed, comfortable environment for just you or as many friends and family you want to include. Other cool stuff:  the Tempur Pedic Bed for mom, the massive sofas for friends and family, the complimentary chocolate-covered strawberries. Oh! And the Little Lamb Maternity & Baby Boutique  on site. Might I recommend one the fabulous Born Out of Necessity diaper bags?!

 

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