In celebration of your many kicks this week...

Mommy's baby shoes...

Blue for Science.

There are some urges worth satisfying as a first time parent. We consider the desire to thoroughly geek out with our baby boy to be one of those such urges. I mean, of course we want him to develop his own unique personality and grow up to fulfill his distinct personal aspirations... but we also expect, quite seriously, that he hold an affinity for some super nerdy stuff, just like Mommy & Daddy.

Among the prerequisites, in no particular order:

• Star Trek - He doesn't have to be an all out Trekker, but he should at the very least humor his father's sentiments for The Original Series and The Next Generation. See image above for what will likely be one of the first articles of clothing this little Falk will be forced, I mean proud, to wear.
• NES - It doesn't matter that by the time he is actually able to play video games we will all have virtual reality lenses built into our eyeballs; this child will know the 8 bit wonder of such classics as Super Mario Bros. (and Super Mario 3), The Legend of Zelda, Paper Boy, and Metroid. We might even plug in the Atari 2600 to play Pitfall. If he's lucky.
• 80s - 90s era punk rock - This is a tough category to roll into one because the snob in both of us wants to sub-categorize by genre and period. But for the sake of keeping it short, let's just narrow it to anything silly, punky, bratty or political. To name a few on baby's first mixtape: The Dead Milkmen, The Ramones, Jonathan Richman (& the Modern Lovers), Weird Al Yankovic, Bratmobile, Sleater Kinney, The Clash, and Devo. We'll save the more angsty, sweary stuff for circa 2025 (gulp).
• Star Wars - Believe it or not, Mommy owned Star Wars toys and action figures before she even met Daddy. We own every version of the trilogy ever released (damn you, George Lucas), but rest assured Tommy will first experience the original cut. And he will watch the true trilogy first, and those other crappy movies later. As our friend Brandon would say, "none of this 'Greedo shoots first' garbage". The force will be strong with this one.
• Mad Magazine - A Tommy/ Daddy pastime, the boys can sit on the porch and flip through decades of satire and silliness. Mommy will oblige. She was the one, after all, who got down on bended knee and presented Daddy with every issue of Mad from the year of his birth (1977) through the end of 1989. After, of course, he did the same with a sparkly diamond and emerald engagement ring.

We aren't planning a baby clone or childhood do-over, but we sure do get the warm and fuzzies at the thought of sharing these favorites with our little boy. Wrap it up in a flannel shirt-cardigan sweater-converse allstar package... and you've got yourself one dorky, happy family.

Checkpoint, 20 weeks.

We're at the halfway mark, give or take a week or two depending on gestation and dates and lots of other factors. Still, it feels really great to meet this milestone. From where I stand unfurls a long and winding road, with many new adventures and experiences still to come. At the end we'll greet the beginning of our life as a family of three.

I've been collecting reading material to prepare me for that moment, for the birth of my first child. We made the decision early on to plan an entirely natural childbirth with no intervention, if possible. Soon after, we met with a local midwife who had been recommended to us by our good friends Rachel and Don (proud parents of lovely little Adeline). The experience has been wholly positive and I am so excited to keep learning, keep planning toward this life-altering event.

There are two books in particular that have inspired me to overcome any fear I might have had imagining the pain of labor and childbirth. The first, Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, has been like a bible to me, brimming with some of the most beautiful accounts of natural and home birth experiences I've encountered. This book, in tandem with conversations I've had with friends like Rachel, has proven to me that childbirth can be an exercise of my strength as a woman, a rite of passage to be embraced. In some sense, I welcome the pain and the struggles I will face when I labor. I feel a little crazy when I talk about it, but I am fighting the stigma, the needless shame that can occasionally wash over me until I realize I only want what every woman expecting a child wants. I want to bring our baby into this world with joy, love and peace at the forefront.

The second book was recently loaned to me by our midwife: Birth Reborn by Michel Odent. I was first introduced to Dr. Odent, a French surgeon, in the popular documentary The Business of Being Born. His work in Pithiviers, France transforming a state hospital maternity unit was some of the first to question the evolution of modern obstetrics - things like the use of synthetic oxytocin to speed up labor progression and dilation, epidurals, forceps, fetal monitoring... Even examining the conventional birthing table and dorsal position (flat on your back, feet in stirrups), determining that in an effort to ease the method of delivery for the obstetrician, doctors were making childbirth incredibly difficult for the laboring woman.

So much of Dr. Odent's research and experimentation at Pithiviers makes sense to me, and supports my desire to do exactly what my body was meant to do. I trust my body. I trust my husband. I trust my midwife. I am not afraid. I do not believe intervention will be necessary. I'm not comforted by the proximity of obstetricians (read as: surgeons), or drugs or NICUs. In fact, I'm terrified by them.

Each woman is entitled to give birth in the manner and setting of her choice. We gain little as a society by treating every pregnancy as an illness or high risk near death experience. There are exceptions, always.

My vision of Tommy's birth is filled with sunshine and lush, full leaves whistling warm summer breezes through our living room window. I imagine myself leaning into his Daddy and riding each wave with my eyes open and my mind set. There will be music and laughter. I will drink lemonade and eat cookies if I want to. And after hours (I'm sure) of exhausting each other, my little boy will be here and we will hold him and kiss him and nurse him with tears of passion and sheer joy wetting our faces. His birth will be a moment that stands still in time, forever.

Just 20 more weeks (or so) to go...

Growing together.

It's week 19 and I'm finally feeling (and looking) pregnant. I remember wearing this dress in the summertime and pushing out my belly, teasing Daddy with a line from "Hot Tub Time Machine" (a really silly movie we saw on a whim last year, anxious to visit the old movie theater we both used to go to when we were kids). "I feel pregnant!" I'd say and arch my back to get the full effect. Now I realize I had no idea what that even meant.

It's safe to say I'm well past the nausea and picky appetite I had in the first trimester, and on my way to eating us out of house and home. Everything sounds good to me. I can hardly wait until my next meal. I'm taking this as a good sign - coupled with my bulging middle, the voracity must mean little Tommy is growing. This makes Mommy & Daddy both giddy with grins. Big grins. Big giggly goofy grins.

Daddy rubs my belly with Mama Bee balm at night and we both try to feel you moving inside me. It's still early and I think you're hiding behind the placenta, so only every now and then do I feel a flutter or tickle to the side. Soon, though, I'm told you'll start performing amazing tricks like kicking and punching and hiccups. I can't imagine I'll ever get tired of it, once it starts. It will be the closest I can get to you until you're really here.

Your cousins Jack and Amelia and Brian are coming over this Sunday to help us start clearing out your soon to be nursery. Your crib is waiting to be assembled, and Nonna has the matching changing table at her house. Aunt Lissy bought you an adorable crib set as a surprise for Mommy. I hope you like it - it has squirrels and owls and hedgehogs and turtle friends for you to snuggle with. Here's hoping your real live kitty friends don't snuggle with it first...

Almost halfway there, little one. I hope you can feel how eager and happy and proud we are. This is a dream come true; a dream that just grows truer and truer with each day passing by.