Tiff took a spill on the way to work on Monday. She was walking to her car from the house and stepped on the wooden border of the sidewalk. It had been raining that morning and the wood was slippery. She picked herself up and went to work. Her doctor wanted to make sure that there wasn't any damage done so they had her come in later that morning. The doctor also made an appointment for Tiff last night for an ultrasound.

We got to the doctor's office and the technician had Tiff lay down on the examination table. Tiff told the tech why she was there since it wasn't time yet for her next "scheduled" ultrasound. The tech then squirted the jelly onto Tiff and we began.

The first few minutes was just like last time: everything seemed to be just random white dots on a black screen. It was pretty hard to see what was what.

The tech would say stuff like, "Here's the placenta," or "Here's the cervix," the whole time I'm thinking, Great. I'm glad Tiff has a cervix and a placenta, but where's the baby?

"Here's its brain," she said. I couldn't see a brain, I just saw another blob. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad it has a brain, and I'm equally as glad that the brain "looks normal," but I wasn't there to see a blob that was supposed to be a brain. I was there to see a blob that is supposed to be our "baby."

It wasn't until the tech started to point things out that I realized what I was looking at. The tech moved the thingy around on Tiff's belly, clicked the keyboard a few times with her free hand, pointed to something on screen and said, "Those are the legs," and let me tell you that is when it all came together for me. The legs were moving. On their own! The legs were moving fast, too. Maybe the kid will grow up to be a track star or a fugitive on the run? I'm open-minded and I'll support the kid in whatever it decides to be when it grows up.

Then the tech started moving the thing around some more and she said, "That's the head." It was weird seeing that. It reminded me of a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon where Calvin had been "bombarded by x-rays" and you could see his skeleton, the most noticable part of which was his large, bulbous skull. The baby's skull was equally as huge and surprisingly detailed. You could see the baby's tooth-line and eye holes and the spot where the nose will go.

After some more moving on the tech's part I also saw some ribs, a spine and a little hand (the hand was outstretched as if it were trying to give a high-5). I could barely believe my eyes! There was a little person inside Tiff! I had to stop myself from saying, "Oh my God, there's a kid inside Tiff! How did it get in there?!" I'm sure the tech would have called the nice men in the white jackets with their nets to come take me away.

Finally the tech was finished and she told us that Tiff, the baby, the placenta, and the cervix are all fine and that no damage was caused by Tiff's spill the other morning. The tech wiped the jelly off of Tiff and printed out some pictures for us to keep. The first one looks like the baby is looking right at the "camera." Its eye holes are big and black and the baby looks as if it's saying, "Hey! A little privacy, please?!" It also looks a bit like a generic alien head. You know what I'm referring to: big head, wider at the top, big, black, almond-shaped eyes, little holes for nostrils. It didn't look like it was of this planet...

Hmmm.

The other pictures are profile views of the baby. One picture is of the baby using its little hand to pick its nose (I swear to you this is what it looks like) and the other is a profile shot without the hand.

It was a pretty cool experience watching the baby move around. It's good to know that the baby is no longer just a blob, but a blob taking human form. It was cool to see the little hands, eyeholes, legs and ribs. It was a sobering experience inasmuch as it really drove the "I'm going to be a daddy" thought directly into the Reality Center of the cerebral cortex. I still find it hard to believe that there's a little alien-looking thing growing inside Tiff but I can't wait till it gets here. Just as long as it comes out normally, and not like in the movie, Alien. Till next time,

-andy

I just had a really cool idea!

Tiff has been telling me that the baby can hear us. If it can't hear us now, it will be able to hear us very soon. Tiff has also been telling me that the baby will begin pushing on the inside of her tummy with its hands toward the end of the pregnancy and that we will be able to see the hand push the tummy out (it will look kind of like when the baby alien was trying to get out of its host person in Alien, but without the fatal end result).

What I want to try to do is teach the baby to High 5 while it is still inside Tiff. I think that this would be a pretty cool trick to teach a baby while it's still in the womb. Then, when the baby is out in the delivery room, I will say, "High 5!" and the baby, recognizing my voice, would stick out its hand, expecting a touch in return. I think this is possible. I'll let you know how the lessons go. Till next time,

-andy

Tiff had another doctors appointment yesterday. The purpose of that appointment was so that we could hear the baby's heartbeat. We ended up sitting in the waiting room for an hour - almost to the minute - which was interesting. There was a bald, little baby with a huge, bulbous head in the waiting room with his mother. the baby seemed very curious about everything. He would try to sit up, then would look at something or somebody. After a few seconds of astute observation, he would lock sights on something else.

Yours truly was one of the lucky ones observed. I was reading an Entertainment Weekly article on American Idol. Tiff had said something to me so I looked up from reading for a moment. As I was about to start reading again I noticed movement in the periphery of my vision. I glanced over and this little baby was staring at me. It felt kind of odd. It was like my brain was being scanned by some tiny alien. Of all the days to leave my tinfoil hat at home... It was a bit discomfiting. But I'm gettig off my point a bit.

We waited an hour before we were called into the examination room. When we finally got in there it was like I was a little kid in a candy shop. There were so many cool things to play with. For instance, I quickly discovered that the little pivoting lever on the side of the exam table is used to release the back of the table. Then I found these neat cotton swabs in a container. They were quite possibly the largest cotton swabs I have ever seen. I remarked to Tiff that I didn't think they would fit in my ears, but before I could try one out Tiff was almost yelling at me not to. Spoil sport. I tried to get into more mischief, but then the doctor came in.

The doctor was pretty nice. He was just kind of brief. For instance, he asked Tiff some questions and then picked up the instrument that would enable us to finally hear the heartbeat of our child - a moment we have been looking forward to for god knows how long. He put a dollup of jelly on Tiffs tummy and pressed the instrument into the jelly. The doctor let us listen to the heartbeat for approximately 2.3 seconds. After he wiped the jelly off of Tiff, he asked if we had any questions then left.

I know that they say Brevity is the soul of wit, but is brevity now the soul of a doctor's appointment? I mean, we waited for an hour in the stupid waiting room. My brain, with all of my private thoughts, was scanned by some little alien baby. We finally get into the exam room and the doctor comes in, spends less than 5 minutes with us and leaves. I feel cheated. We're paying for this stuff. I came out of the exam room feeling like I'd been scammed.

Here's another reason I feel scammed: What assurance do I have that the heartbeat we heard was actually the baby's? Couldn't it have been Tiff's heartbeat? I know that the babys' would typically be very fast (I clocked the heartbeat we heard at about 150 beats per minute) and that Tiff's would be slower, but, truth be told, I think that Tiff and I were both a little excited by the notion of getting to hear the heartbeat, and I think that that could have elevated Tiff's pulse rate. Right? It isn't totally impossible. :o)

Anyway, I feel scammed. After the questionable ultrasound blobs, and now this, from now on I vow that I will question everything that the doctor or the technician does. I will be on full alert during the next doctor's visit. I will make the doctor earn the money that our insurance company is paying him. But next time I'll be sure to wear my tinfoil hat. Till then,

-andy