Saturday, May 14, 2016

Week 22 - Guest Blog

Well, I woke up to a few wonderful things today. First of all, hubby made french toast, which is delicious, and second of all, hubby wrote a guest post for this blog which is well... one of the funnier things I've read in a while. 

I might follow up in another post with some additional notes on things that happened over the week, but for now, I leave you in Corey's capable hands...

Hello, faithful readers of a pregnant lady’s travails! Bit of a curveball coming your way this week, as her blog has been temporarily taken over by her male roommate and purported co-progenitor.

You’ll be relieved to hear I’ve been making my way through the required reading, and, aside from the obligatory foot rubs, back rubs, bringing of beverages, and telling her she’s beautiful, the literature indicates that another good way I can pull my birth weight is to just try to make life easier for her in general. So I figured giving her a week off her blog duties counts just like taking out the recycling or finding just what exactly stinks so gawdawful in the fridge.

It seems we’re at week 22. She is definitely showing - more like a couple of brown bag king cans than a 6-pack these days - and there is a lot of movement going on in there. “Spekk” supposedly likes to really start running uterine laps around 1am, although I have yet to be awake for any of that. However last weekend during a lazy afternoon the little duffer started kicking up a fuss and I was able to feel several well-placed kicks (elbows?) which made it all seem pretty real. Sure, seeing a grainy ultrasound of a little stomach alien sucking its thumb is one thing, but actually feeling it in real time...oy vey. Other than doing the Vader and saying “I AM YOUR FATHER”, I’ve started singing to The Tummy lately. Apparently the wee ‘un can already hear and recognize our voices, and it’s best to get a start on all the Tom Waits repertoire early in one’s life. V disagrees and thinks I should layoff any renditions of “Eyeball Kid” until after the 2nd birthday. Ugh. They said parenthood would be hard.

There’s a book in our house called ‘The Expectant Father.’ I’ve been skimming it for weeks now and mostly I’m glad we don’t have to worry about the extensive sections on how to pay for the hospital bills (American author). I did learn one word though - ‘couvade.’ It’s from the French for ‘a man’s sympathetic beer gut caused by his partner’s pregnancy.’ However it means much more than having one’s toes slowly recede out of sight. It can also refer to any pregnancy-like symptoms typically experienced by women which men may also experience - like forgetfulness, irrational mood swings, and gas. Although I haven’t really noticed any big symptomatic changes in myself, it’s just a relief to finally have some cover for one’s normal behaviour. Anytime I forget my keys, spill some beer, or accidentally yell too loudly, I can make the guilt disappear by uttering my new favourite word: couvade. Couvade. It’s so sensual, so effortless the way it rolls off the tongue. Couvade. It could be the name of the latest Porsche model, or maybe one of those $1200 strollers. But it comes in real handy if an attempt to blame “that awful smell” on the dog fails.

I still go to my aikido classes as often as possible. One of my friends there is in his mid 20s and is super fit and very good at aikido. I’ve been enjoying my slide into middle age with something known as ‘always having stiff shoulders’ and when he takes me down for an arm bar pin, he’s begun making smart-ass comments about “taking it easy on the dad-bod.” Then, one day, I looked up dad bod on the internet, and after that I noticed I’ve been going after him just a little bit more….intensely. So far he hasn’t killed me, but it’s become markedly more satisfying when it’s my turn and I actually manage to mash him into the mats a bit. I usually celebrate my martial arts prowess after class with a couple advil followed by going to bed at 9:30.

We found a doula. Correction: Virginia found a doula and I was invited to the interview. Catherine seems super nice and extremely knowledgeable about all aspects of childbirth. I had no idea what to expect before meeting her but now I’m pretty sure this is the smartest idea I’ve ever been made to feel was partly mine. We have some friends who shared their pregnancy stories and wisdom with us and became EXTREMELY animated and insistent when they got to the part about having a doula. Doctors? Hospitals? Tubs of warm water? Strolling accordion player? When giving birth one can do without all of those so-called essentials, but do NOT attempt to do it without a doula. Unless of course you’ve lucked into a midwife. Then you’re all good.

Well, the mid/late September due date is bearing down (hah!) upon us, and with a busy work schedule 'til then I’m sure the remaining 18 weeks will fly by for me. We’ve decided to attempt a holiday road trip to Ontario in early August that may involve camping. V loves camping and sleeping in tents, but I’m thinking I may have to bring a tent of my own once we factor in all the body pillows, duvets, and extra sleeping pads required for someone almost 8 months along. The best part will be visiting our friends Gord and Kelly in Toronto, as they are not only also expecting, but their due date is essentially the exact same date as ours. It will be a double-baby-belly-photo-op extravaganza! I can’t wait to see the two ladies strutting side by side, double wide, up the sweaty Danforth in their resplendent fertile glory. Or maybe we’ll just take a cab if they’re tired. Gord has assured me he’ll have several batches of homemade beer ready for action, so I predict a lot of crying, yelling, and spilled drinks - especially if the ladies aren’t around. COUVADE!


  1. Go, Corey! Very entertaining. And I'm happy to see from the close-up that it's actually not a flower sticking out of your navel.