Last Thursday, we had our routine check-up. I had to pick up Nick downtown where he volunteers on Thursdays and make our way from the west side to the east side of Cleveland, specifically, the Beachwood area. Our little section of the Cleveland Clinic is inconveniently sandwiched between two highway entryway/exits and the Beachwood Plaza.
That means while Isaiah is sandwiched between the walls of my body, Nick and I are sandwiched by the walls of the car, and the car is sandwhiched between mall-goers and highway drivers eager to get on the road or speed home.
We get to the office and have our freshly conjured-up questions written down on scrap paper. We are wondering about the Swine Flu (hello, Xavier University? 10 people diagnosed with the pig epidemic?), whether or not little dots in my vision are normal from time to time (they are), if my blood pressure is on track (it is), and who is going to deliver the baby (my doctor delivers 85% of her patients).
But other than hearing Isaiah's heartbeat and Dr. McElroy pressing against certain parts of my expanding belly universe, nothing happened.
No reports on big feet. No excitement. No news.
It took about 5 mintues.
Mhm. I was expecting more.
My sister-in-law, Suzi, who has birthed four children, affirmed the uneventful period of doctor's appointments. "Yeah, you're finishing your second trimester so things are just kind of routine right now. Soon you'll go every three weeks, then every two weeks, and then the last month you'll go once a week. But for now, just enjoy it."
So we are.
We are enjoying staying in. Nick has redeemed his NetFlicks membership and is a-d-d-i-c-t-e-d to the last season of the West Wing. I have been morosely burying my head in the women's fitting rooms, trying on clothes to make me look like a somewhat normal version of myself. My pants are officially too tight at the non-waist region of my body and maternity clothes are either just too big or too ugly. Let's face it. Most department store fashionistas design pregnant clothes like window treatments. Drapes, drapes everywhere. Everything just hangs over your belly.
Ugh.
Anyway, Isaiah is a growing soccer play, we are musing. Or a punter. Or someone who just has the gift of really strong legs. His kicks and punches and elbows and whatever else he is using to make his presence known is getting stronger and stronger while my ability to sustain long periods of activity are weakening. Lately, I pour myself a glass of milk and head for the couch, or outside for fresh air to get my energy back. Nick is still a cleaning machine, keeping one hand on the broom and the other on my belly to see if he can feel his boy kicking.
Nick and I are thrilled in Week 22.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
A Year Ago
I was just looking through some old things and organizing our office when I realized that one year, I had just returned from my 2 month trip to the Philippines.So much has changed in one year as Nick and I have settled into jobs, our first house, our 4th year of marriage, and, now, our first pregnancy.
These were the roses that Nick bought and greeted me with when I returned home. I don't think I'll ever forget how wonderful those months were, but I don't think I'll ever forget how dreadful it was to be separated for that long, too.
Looking back, I am so grateful that I went on that trip that was so much more than a trip. It taught me so many things about interdependence, family, culture, and belonging. It was worth every sacrifice made to bring it to fruition. It also sweetened our marriage in ways that I never expected. Never again since I have returned home have I taken Nick for granted. Not once, not one day.
If I, or we, ever seem cheesy or overly happy, it's because, frankly, we are and after being on the other side of the earth for 9 weeks without him, it taught me a thing or two about gratitude and love.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Observation
Isaiah is kicking, punching, elbowing, and pushing as much as Nick is cleaning these days.
That is a lot.
That is a lot.
Friday, August 21, 2009
GEDs and LBJ Sighting
Nick has decided to do some volunteer work.
You know, for people like Nick, for people who already work in faith-based ministry, people who spend at least 8 hours of everyday working for the betterment of someone's spiritual enlightenment, doing volunteer work may fill a void to actually DO something for other people.
[in case you missed it, there is a heavy dose of sarcasm in opening paragraph]
So, Nick is volunteering for a catholic center helping folks earn their GED. He decides to do this on his day off.
The other day, I could have sworn there was a brief sighting of a golden halo rounding his head. I blinked and it disappeared. Oh, my generous life partner...when will you do something, I don't know, selfish? Like, go buy yourself something. Oh wait, he hates to shop. Maybe go buy a steak dinner. Oh wait, he prefers to eat at home. Perhaps get yourself tickets to a huge sporting event. Mhm...now there's a possibility.
Bottom line is, Isaiah is taking more and more energy out of me and there are days when I feel like lying on a couch and staying hydrated is enough work for me. Next to Nick, these days, I am feeling grossly unproductive.
And when I wail and cry that I am not participating in helping humanity achieve a greater sense of authenticity, Nick will put his arm around me and remind me, "Remember, you're doing the most important part for us - making sure Isaiah is good and growing."
Ah, yes, our son.
And I straighten my shoulders and quickly feel better. YES, I am pregnant and have Big Foot Borchers practicing karate kicks and swim flips inside me.
So, while Nick is off educating the world into better human thinkers, I am working full time and counting the weeks left of my second trimester. It's gone so fast!
In other news, last night, Nick, myself, Books, and his girlfriend Janet scored major seats at the Akron premiere of "More Than a Game," the documentary about the friendship and legacy of the basketball team at Akron's St. Vincent/St. Mary that Lebron James was a part of. Nick and I had front row seats, which was a little close for the movie, but came up HUGE after the movie when we were about 9 feet from Lebron and his teammates featured in the documentary. It was awesome! I stared at big LBJ for 25 minutes, barely believing I was so close to the Cavs King.
The documentary comes out in October and right now is on a tour throughout the world. One of our friends is a big wig for all movie features that come through NE Ohio. When Will Smith comes to town, we get a phone call. A documentary where LBJ will be at? We get front row seats. Pretty sweet deal.
Yeah, we're important.
You know, for people like Nick, for people who already work in faith-based ministry, people who spend at least 8 hours of everyday working for the betterment of someone's spiritual enlightenment, doing volunteer work may fill a void to actually DO something for other people.
[in case you missed it, there is a heavy dose of sarcasm in opening paragraph]
So, Nick is volunteering for a catholic center helping folks earn their GED. He decides to do this on his day off.
The other day, I could have sworn there was a brief sighting of a golden halo rounding his head. I blinked and it disappeared. Oh, my generous life partner...when will you do something, I don't know, selfish? Like, go buy yourself something. Oh wait, he hates to shop. Maybe go buy a steak dinner. Oh wait, he prefers to eat at home. Perhaps get yourself tickets to a huge sporting event. Mhm...now there's a possibility.
Bottom line is, Isaiah is taking more and more energy out of me and there are days when I feel like lying on a couch and staying hydrated is enough work for me. Next to Nick, these days, I am feeling grossly unproductive.
And when I wail and cry that I am not participating in helping humanity achieve a greater sense of authenticity, Nick will put his arm around me and remind me, "Remember, you're doing the most important part for us - making sure Isaiah is good and growing."
Ah, yes, our son.
And I straighten my shoulders and quickly feel better. YES, I am pregnant and have Big Foot Borchers practicing karate kicks and swim flips inside me.
So, while Nick is off educating the world into better human thinkers, I am working full time and counting the weeks left of my second trimester. It's gone so fast!
In other news, last night, Nick, myself, Books, and his girlfriend Janet scored major seats at the Akron premiere of "More Than a Game," the documentary about the friendship and legacy of the basketball team at Akron's St. Vincent/St. Mary that Lebron James was a part of. Nick and I had front row seats, which was a little close for the movie, but came up HUGE after the movie when we were about 9 feet from Lebron and his teammates featured in the documentary. It was awesome! I stared at big LBJ for 25 minutes, barely believing I was so close to the Cavs King.
The documentary comes out in October and right now is on a tour throughout the world. One of our friends is a big wig for all movie features that come through NE Ohio. When Will Smith comes to town, we get a phone call. A documentary where LBJ will be at? We get front row seats. Pretty sweet deal.
Yeah, we're important.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Week 20
I'm officially at the halfway point of my pregnancy.
After yesterday, and finding out the news that "it" is now a "him," or (preferably) now Isaiah, I feel a certain solidness about life. Not that Nick and I haven't been fully aware of the baby before, but, as I predicted it would for us, knowing the baby's sex has personalized this whole mind-blowing experience for us.
It's also lit something fierce under Nick.
Nick had yesterday off from work. I took the morning off but went in to work in the afternoon and when I came home, the house was gleaming from the inside out. Nick had been working his tail off reorganizing closets, making space in cluttered areas, cleaning, doing laundry, folding and stacking bedware and towels. Any miscellaneous items (usually things like my jewelry, my camera equipment, my chicken scratches on post it notes about appointments and meetings and random ideas) were all placed in a pile in my closet.
"I just feel better when the house is clean," he says.
Not that we live in a pigsty, but our home is fairly tidy. Nick likes tidy. I like disinfectant. It's a good combo.
But I wasn't sure if he said "I just feel better when the house is clean" or "I just feel better when the house GLEAMS."
Because everything is ridiculously tidy and everytime I look at my loving spouse, he's sweating from moving something or bending over into a closet trying to clear out anything that can be thrown away.
Is that Nesting syndrome supposed to happen to the mother? Or is it the father?
I think he's ready to be a Dad...whereas I am just feeling more and more pregnancy-tired with each passing week. My right leg is starting to cramp and my appetite is back on some form of mysterious fluctuation. Monday - Thursday afternoon, I could barely eat a whole meal without feeling like I needed to manually rolled into the living room. I ate three nuggets of cantelope and a glass of milk and feel like I ate a Thanksgiving dinner. Today, I've eaten more than the entire week combined and now I feel like I could do some serious damage at Old Country Buffet.
Week 20 is the halfway point, and not that we ever were thinking of "turning back," it truly is the point of no return. Emotionally, we are just so flipping excited for this kid, we're borderline obnoxious. I can't believe we still have friends sometimes. How can they stand us when we're talking and giddy all the time, thinking about our future like it's a philosophical puzzle to figure out, talking about parenting techniques, thinking about our own childhood - what worked, what we think our parents did right...etc, etc. In sum, we are SATURATED IN THE GLOW OF IMPENDING PARENTHOOD AND WE LOVE IT AND DON'T CARE WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK OF US AND OUR OBNOXIOUSLY HAPPY AND GLORIOUS STATE.
You KNOW things are seriously different when father of Big Foot himself says to me yesterday, "What do you think of this? It came in the mail." Nick hands me a turquoise and delicately decorated piece of paper with suggestions of things to buy before the baby's arrival.
Like an up-scale shopping list. In cute fonts.
Nick puts in on my dresser, "I think this might be a good guide of things we'll need to buy, don't you think?"
I just nodded wordlessly, my eyes big and unblinking as I watch him. In my brain, I hear the strains of the Twilight Zone.
Anytime the love of my life, the man who gets a headache from walking into a department store, suggests using a shopping list and actually looks excited about its futility is testament to the transformative power of Baby Isaiah.
After yesterday, and finding out the news that "it" is now a "him," or (preferably) now Isaiah, I feel a certain solidness about life. Not that Nick and I haven't been fully aware of the baby before, but, as I predicted it would for us, knowing the baby's sex has personalized this whole mind-blowing experience for us.
It's also lit something fierce under Nick.
Nick had yesterday off from work. I took the morning off but went in to work in the afternoon and when I came home, the house was gleaming from the inside out. Nick had been working his tail off reorganizing closets, making space in cluttered areas, cleaning, doing laundry, folding and stacking bedware and towels. Any miscellaneous items (usually things like my jewelry, my camera equipment, my chicken scratches on post it notes about appointments and meetings and random ideas) were all placed in a pile in my closet.
"I just feel better when the house is clean," he says.
Not that we live in a pigsty, but our home is fairly tidy. Nick likes tidy. I like disinfectant. It's a good combo.
But I wasn't sure if he said "I just feel better when the house is clean" or "I just feel better when the house GLEAMS."
Because everything is ridiculously tidy and everytime I look at my loving spouse, he's sweating from moving something or bending over into a closet trying to clear out anything that can be thrown away.
Is that Nesting syndrome supposed to happen to the mother? Or is it the father?
I think he's ready to be a Dad...whereas I am just feeling more and more pregnancy-tired with each passing week. My right leg is starting to cramp and my appetite is back on some form of mysterious fluctuation. Monday - Thursday afternoon, I could barely eat a whole meal without feeling like I needed to manually rolled into the living room. I ate three nuggets of cantelope and a glass of milk and feel like I ate a Thanksgiving dinner. Today, I've eaten more than the entire week combined and now I feel like I could do some serious damage at Old Country Buffet.
Week 20 is the halfway point, and not that we ever were thinking of "turning back," it truly is the point of no return. Emotionally, we are just so flipping excited for this kid, we're borderline obnoxious. I can't believe we still have friends sometimes. How can they stand us when we're talking and giddy all the time, thinking about our future like it's a philosophical puzzle to figure out, talking about parenting techniques, thinking about our own childhood - what worked, what we think our parents did right...etc, etc. In sum, we are SATURATED IN THE GLOW OF IMPENDING PARENTHOOD AND WE LOVE IT AND DON'T CARE WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK OF US AND OUR OBNOXIOUSLY HAPPY AND GLORIOUS STATE.
You KNOW things are seriously different when father of Big Foot himself says to me yesterday, "What do you think of this? It came in the mail." Nick hands me a turquoise and delicately decorated piece of paper with suggestions of things to buy before the baby's arrival.
Like an up-scale shopping list. In cute fonts.
Nick puts in on my dresser, "I think this might be a good guide of things we'll need to buy, don't you think?"
I just nodded wordlessly, my eyes big and unblinking as I watch him. In my brain, I hear the strains of the Twilight Zone.
Anytime the love of my life, the man who gets a headache from walking into a department store, suggests using a shopping list and actually looks excited about its futility is testament to the transformative power of Baby Isaiah.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Isaiah Factora Borchers
8:45am
"This is the brain."
"Here's the spine."
"Right here is a hand."
"Your baby's face profile..."
Then the ultrasound techie asked, "Do you want to know the baby's sex?"
YES.
"You are having a boy! Definitely, for sure. Right here, [points] that's a boy part."
For the next 10 minutes or so, we get all happy and mushy and watched different angles of our son.
After some quiet time the nurse exclaims, "This baby's got HUGE feet!"
I couldn't believe what she said, "What?!"
She points again, "See this? This foot is the same length AS THE BABY'S THIGH!"
I start giggling. Uncontrollably.
The nurse asks, "So who's responsible for this baby's big feet?"
I reply over Nick's laughter, "Definitely the father."
Nick's astronaut white shoes, size 13, seem to be glowing in the dark.
The nurse smiles, "If this kid had an Indian name it would be 'the baby with huge feet.'"
Nick and I are just laughing our butts off as she shows us a close up of Isaiah's foot.
We finish up and I'm wiping my tears of joy and giggling over this kid's feet.
The nurse places a towel over my belly and says, "We're done here. You've got a boy on the way. With huge feet." She glances down at my feet in flip flops and makes one last comment, "Yeah, for sure. This baby definitely did not inherit your feet."
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Conversation This Morning
Nick: Can you believe that TOMORROW we'll know if we're having a boy or girl?
Me: Truly, it's unreal.
Nick: (staring at the ceiling in thought) Oh! I thought of something else that we might want to buy.
Me: In addition to the gazillion things - like a crib, stroller, rocker, bottles, diapers...
Nick: (turns to me with big, convincing eyes) No, I'm serious. I think we should probably buy one of those baby holder things.
Me: The one where the kid is strapped on to the parent, like in the front?
Nick: Yeah! Do you think we should get one of those?
Me: (quietly thinking) I don't know. Do you want the front one or the back one?
Nick: (surprised) There's more than one?
Me: Yes...I've seen the front one, where the kid is just dangling there and there's the one on the back, kinda like a backpack. I've seen more men with the backpack version. It kinda looks like hiking gear, except for equipment, there's a baby back there. I think men use it when running errands, like to the post office or something so their hands are free.
Nick: (perpetually skeptical) I don't know about that back one. Do you think it's safe?
Me: Probably about as safe as having your baby dangling in front of you without actually holding on it.
Nick: I just like the idea of always SEEING the baby. Like, what if I'm carrying the baby on my back and all of a sudden I think, 'mhm, it's kinda light back there,' and then I check and the baby is gone? Or I reach behind me for something and then find someone trying to take the baby off my back?!
Me: (decidedly)The front carrier it is.
Me: Truly, it's unreal.
Nick: (staring at the ceiling in thought) Oh! I thought of something else that we might want to buy.
Me: In addition to the gazillion things - like a crib, stroller, rocker, bottles, diapers...
Nick: (turns to me with big, convincing eyes) No, I'm serious. I think we should probably buy one of those baby holder things.
Me: The one where the kid is strapped on to the parent, like in the front?
Nick: Yeah! Do you think we should get one of those?
Me: (quietly thinking) I don't know. Do you want the front one or the back one?
Nick: (surprised) There's more than one?
Me: Yes...I've seen the front one, where the kid is just dangling there and there's the one on the back, kinda like a backpack. I've seen more men with the backpack version. It kinda looks like hiking gear, except for equipment, there's a baby back there. I think men use it when running errands, like to the post office or something so their hands are free.
Nick: (perpetually skeptical) I don't know about that back one. Do you think it's safe?
Me: Probably about as safe as having your baby dangling in front of you without actually holding on it.
Nick: I just like the idea of always SEEING the baby. Like, what if I'm carrying the baby on my back and all of a sudden I think, 'mhm, it's kinda light back there,' and then I check and the baby is gone? Or I reach behind me for something and then find someone trying to take the baby off my back?!
Me: (decidedly)The front carrier it is.
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