While I was away having the time of my life at Camp Cote in NH (see picture below), Carey had her first visit with a midwife (July 24). She felt that she couldn't do it alone so she confided in Jennifer C who gladly went along with her. They did an ultrasound and the little seed-baby turned up with a visible, though not audible, heartbeat. This is good, she was informed. With the sighting of a heartbeat the chances of miscarriage go down from 20-25% to 3%! I learned all this from a photo-text and a phone call to the land line at Camp Cote. I had to speak in code so I couldn't ask too many details as there were ears all around without prior knowledge to the pregnancy. Luckily, Dan & Toby already knew so I could share the news with them. Show off my text image of the blurry little thing. A few days later in Connecticut we told Carey's parents during dinner at a restaurant. Carey and I got there early and scotch taped ultrasound photos to the inside of a few menus for Sam and Mary Kay. We got the hostess in on our scheme. She agreed to hand only them the specialized menus. For the longest time they didn't open their menus. It drove Carey and I mad! They just kept looking at the specials and wine list and just about anything else but their own damn menus! Finally Mary Kay opened hers and found the photo.
"What's this? Does anyone else have a picture of an ultrasound in their menu?" She seriously said that. Carey had written "Coming March 17"on the bottom, but it still didn't click.
Carey couldn't keep it in any longer. She interjected, "It's mine!"
"I KNEW IT!" Mary Kay was sure she already knew even though she had tested Carey the night before by offering her a drink of wine. (Carey took the drink, but she dumped it in the sink when no one was looking and took fake sips when she hoped people were looking.) Sam seemed more in shock than anything else. His response wasn't what I had expected. Ryan's was exactly how I guessed. Similar to how my reaction would have been if I were in his shoes (both of us being the youngest and all). Like I know I'm supposed to feel something, that it's a big deal and all but, I just don't resonate with it... But after thinking about it, Ryan decided he wanted to be the child's godfather. Not that he's religious. He just likes the sound of it. The prestige he envisions that comes along with the title a la Coppola's The Godfather films. Piyush was very happy and even verbalized his excitement in a much more watered down Indian accent then last time we saw him.
The next day for brunch with David and Nancy we came up with a semi-clever way to tell them. The good news, bad news routine. First the bad news, we won't be able to attend Carey's cousin Lindsey's wedding in March because of the good news - and here Carey pulled out the ultrasound photo. David was hysterical with hugs and handshakes and enthusiasm while Nancy said the same exact thing as Mary Kay, "I KNEW IT!" By which she meant that no, she didn't actually know until Carey reached for something in her purse...the ultrasound pic. I found it odd that both mothers said they knew it when they actually didn't. At any rate, the rest of the conversation was moderated by Nancy because this is her education, occupation, specialty and central life focus, pregnancy and birthing. Turns out she knows a lot. And she knows how to clearly communicate to first-timers. It only took a day before the Goldenbergs picked out their grandparent names for themselves. Sam wants to be called Poppee and Mary Kay...shoot, what is it? Something Irishy. Mah-moo? Moh-mee? Don't remember. I can't decide what I want to be called. Dad is pretty good. But pops might be fun. Not pappa, though. Well, maybe. Daddy sounds weird to me.
We found out from the midwife/ultrasound that the original date given is off by a few weeks. So at this point we are in the 8th week for the second time.
Flashback. The night before I flew to Camp Cote Carey was an emotional wreck. She was super negative, argumentative, and just in a nasty foul mood while also dreading being alone at home without me. After she dropped me off at the airport, I got a call a few minutes later. She needed talking down and believed she was having a panic attack. I don't remember what I said, but it seemed to work. The next morning she found out that she had a UTI and got some antibiotics. But then a week later the lab results were negative and she didn't have a UTI afterall. This worried her greatly. Her moods and body at odds with each other and her typical grounded self. The night she got home from CT (I flew home first), she had talked herself into a frenzy that these abdominal pains that she thought were a UTI must be something worse and she concluded that she was for sure going to have a miscarriage. This freaked me out. She was so dark and hopeless and emphatic and coercive, I started to despair. Then I thought about it and reminded her about the 3% stat we had just learned. Ultrasound heartbeat = drop in miscarriage rate from 20-25% to 3%. She calmed down. I calmed down. And since it was the hottest day in Seattle's recorded history (103 degrees! Unbearable!) we took our first ride on Link, the the new light rail, to an air conditioned theater to watch Bruno with Dan & Toby (it was so-so...not anywhere as good as Borat). Today she woke up early completely exhilarated. On a whim she drove all the way to Carnation to pick berries. Then she got bad news about her father being in the hospital and got really depressed. Crying, upset with friends for being flaky. Of course I can't say that I suspect she's having pregnancy moodiness. I'd get in trouble. But she does seem a little oversensitive.
Speaking of sensitivity, lovey time is quite low. "Mild" is putting it mildly. Her libido is nil. I'm not just talking about infrequency (two times in two weeks), but also boring or like she's just doing me a favor. A favor I gladly take, mind you. But this insufferable cold is keeping affection between us at bay. I was told I have to wait until the third trimester to get the other end of the spectrum, if you know what I mean.
Badminton at Camp Cote 2009 (I'm the one with my legs
all ready for action!)
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