Ready?

I'm not sure how one answers this question, which seems to surface several times a day now. Can you ever really be ready for big, life-changing events? They didn't really cover that in our birthing class or the three books I have been pouring over... identifying the point when you can claim readiness. Because who can really be so bold as to declare readiness to take on the responsibility for a whole human being? I fear that when this question arises at work, as it often does, I make a scary face.

For us, I think we get a few tasks crossed of the list, exhale, and then I panic about the idea of never being truly ready to cross the "point of no return" line (which is ironic as the line was crossed months ago), and Paul reminds me to breathe.

On Friday, we could finally declare some of our important waypoints reached. My sales conference was finished, my work chores organized to some level for the leave, we caught the midnight show of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - and more importantly, the baby has means of making it home from the hospital (car seat), a place to sleep other than a drawer, clothing, diapers.

I've read up on labor but the very first thing each of those books tell you is that every experience is different. There's no exact recipe for birth. We made a birth plan, of sorts, with flexibility being Point No. 1, and compiled a list of names we like. We filled out the paperwork for maternity leave. Paul won't take his "bonding time" as FedEx calls it until February.


Tonight we celebrated another very important waypoint, Paul's birthday, with friends, sushi, and coconut cake.

The good thing about not feeling ready is that you're not terribly impatient with the waiting for what's ahead (although healthy anticipation lies there as well). You just take another look at the list of tasks and head toward what's next to cross off.

Our Non-shower Shower

A couple of weeks ago, kind & generous friends, the Walkers, hosted a gathering of well-wishing friends, complete with cake, tasty food, a wonderful blessing for our baby and family, and gifts. Yes, sounds a bit like a baby shower but with menfolk, minus games or themes, and generally just a good time.

These babies were all in the hatch or brand new a year ago at this time. How fast things change.

The ladder featured pictures of little Shannon and little Paul, and others who contributed.
Our kid will be cute, we predict.

You do the cake feeding thing at the baby welcoming events too, right?

Paul is very helpful with the unwrapping... and commentary on the unwrapping.

Our most discussed gift... the pelt.

Release Date Contest

In publishing, the date when a book goes on sale is called the "Release Date". We always release on Tuesdays and ninety-nine percent of the time, that date is set in stone months in advance.

Oh, that you could plan a baby's arrival the same way. :) "Sal" Marchese is due on November 26th, and we allowed our little person to keep his or her gender a secret from us. Sal is just the baby's in utero nickname and is not our final moniker choice.

You are welcome to submit your best guesses regarding the release of our "first edition" in the comments section of this blog post. You don't have to register if you don't want- although Blogger will prompt it - but if you sign in as anonymous, just make sure to put your name in the comment too. Please note that you must first click on the header of this entry "Release Day Contest" and then go to the bottom of the entry and click on "Post Comment" - not subscribe to comments. That should take you to the comments page.

Prizes! Yes, we will award three prizes for correct or closest guesses - because there should always be prizes.

Birthdate:
Gender:
Boy Name:
Girl Name:

{Not weight and length, because I don't want your big baby guesses to jinx me.} :)

Ice Ice, Baby

Last Sunday, we went to an all-day birthing class at the hospital. I should say, the hospital-- as it's the spot where we'll be having this baby.

I had hoped that we'd be able to join a birthing class like the ones you see in the movies. All the couples become buddies and the teacher feels like a beloved, oversharing aunt. But no one offers a weekly birth class on a Saturday and our schedules don't allow for weeknights. {That must be why all those couples become buddies - they have 9 to 5 jobs.}

So the hospital class is a sort of crash course in childbirth. Eight hours of birthing videos, breathing exercises, and what-to-do-if scenarios. I think we did pretty well. Paul was a pro, no screaming or racing from the room, and just some subtle snickering at the early eighties 'fro guy featured in one of the "earthier" labor videos. Okay, we both snickered.

One "highlight" (translation: memorable but not necessarily pleasant) of the class was the opportunity to practice our Lamaze breathing while under some level of duress. Not labor pain, of course, but a like pain. Our instructor brought each couple a bag full of ice and during the moment when we were simulating contractions, the mom would immerse one hand into the bag completely. We were to grip the ice until the instructor told us that the contraction had ended. And I can tell you that gripping ice for a couple of minutes hurts. Nothing unbearable but I'd question anyone who'd tell me that her gut instinct was not to get her hand out of that #&@$ ice. It was a valuable opportunity to practice the breathing and visualize other things while being uncomfortable. I thought about all the beaches I've spent time on... hot, non-icy, exotic places. Mexico, Malaysia, Sydney, St. Lucia, Florida, New Jersey.

The only problem with this technique is that my coach can't read my mind. So Paul's gentle coaching - he's very good at it - splashed some cold, salty water on my mental beach vacation. The lesson of the class and the chilly pain tolerance experiment? We have some imaginary vacation planning to do to have this kid.

30 weeks and counting...

I think.

I lose track of the weeks thing sometimes. That could be problematic soon but at the moment, it just means I'm reading the wrong chapter in my "How to be a Pregnant Person" guide and thinking the baby is the size of melon when really it's a pineapple. I do believe we are now past the food comparison stages.

Lots has happened in the last couple months but this note is really about where Sal has been. In utero, obviously - but Oh, the Places You'll Go in utero.

We stayed close to home in May. In June, Sal and parents went to Las Vegas for a weekend. Don't let the Eiffel Tower fool you... Mom & Sal went to St. Louis and Dallas for short work trips. Sal *did not* love flying to those humid places. In July, the kiddo and I went to Ohio for Hollow Rock. Also humid but worth it for time with the Schmitz rugrats, friends and cousins. Then we drove to the top of Mt. Princeton in Buena Vista, CO, with Henry. He didn't pass out from the altitude. Not even out of the hatch and Sal has summited his or her first 14er! (See Colorado Fourteeners) In August, the family took a bit of time for a western-based road trip, up through Wyoming, into Montana to visit the Grahams and kick around Glacier NP (see header photo), and back down through Yellowstone.
Hiking Glacier Gangsta - look for our rap album. Sal at powwow in Heart Butte, MT.
Hanging out by 1 of 10,000 geo thermal features in Yellowstone NP. That's sulfur, Sal - not Mommy.

And lest I be neglectful of Sal's certain future love for America's game... we all made it to two Rockies games this season. Our friends - Cubs fans - don't seem too heartbroken that they just got whooped by Carlos Gonzalez's game-winning CYCLE.


Next week, Sal and I have a conference in Indianapolis (500 authors!) and we'll be back in Ohio to spend a bit of time with the whole Hill crew before our "confinement".

I would love to say that our little developing person jetsetted to Paris, Dublin, and Dubai - but that will have to wait a few months, at least. And until Paul wins the Lotto or invents the next post-it note.

On going and returning

As not many know this blog exists - has existed, not sure about the proper tense here - I'm not sure the Marcheses' absence was too terribly newsworthy.

But it feels a bit therapeutic (the only reason to blog at all, right?) to at least put out there the reason we took a leave of absence. Very simply, my mom was probably the only regular reader and it was a way to share life with her. After she died in the fall, the only thing I really had to blog about was losing her and it just wasn't the right time and place for that. It still isn't the time or place.

However, it's a perfectly fine time to chat with the world about Sal. Sal is our gender-neutral nickname for the little Hill-Marchese mash-up developing even as I type. She/he is expected to join the household right around Thanksgiving (November 26th to be more precise), and promptly take over.

I have felt pretty good, no real complaints other than being pregnant is weird. My sister has been pregnant quite a bit of the last five years and I'm not really sure how you get used to it. Tiny bladder, weird aches, veiny legs. No caffeine, no adult beverages... and perhaps worst of all - no sushi.

To Paul's chagrin, we do not have plans to find out if Sal is a Salvatore or Sally Mae. I'm having long talks with baby about being modest during the next picture show (aka ultrasound).

The office/second bedroom/Sal's room was painted last month for visiting guests... pina colada. So, light yellow.

We are excited and terrified, in what I think are appropriate proportions. Having answering only to our own whims for most of our adult lives, Paul and I are certain God is about to introduce us to humility and acts of service in big new ways. Hope we make good students.

{Forget BabyWise.. this is the book for me :)}

Calendar...you deceptive little minx

Our summer flashed by, like a brief lightning storm on a July evening. This bums me out because for years, all those single years, time crawled. Now that we're together and really appreciating the all moments instead of racing around, trying to find Mr./Mrs. Right instead of Right Now, the days evaporate. {Hear it gets worse after you have kids}

So now it's suppose to be fall. And we took a brief drive into the mountains recently to confirm that yes, the aspens are turning gold. But our fall drive betrayed us when the snow blew in... and not just a little snow. It snowed in Colorado Springs too, mostly up north, and when the clouds lifted this morning, the foothills were dusted white. I had to coax our furnace out of summer hibernation. The butternut squash, tucked in the crisper drawer, insisted in becoming a hearty (and super tasty) soup. Paul wore long pants to work.

At work, I'm editing books that release in May 2010, back in the bloom of Rocky Mountain springtime. Last week, I had paperwork due for books that don't release until fall of next year. Our calendar says we still have a week or two before peak leaf-peeping, or farmers' market season ends, and still plenty of time to grill without wearing gloves and a scarf, yet the cold crept under our heavy comforter and woke me up last night. I'm thoroughly confused.

We're loving the moment we're in... but keeping the snowboots handy and an eye on that shifty calendar.