Shelby’s baby shower was this weekend. The same shower where she intended to share the baby book I posted about (way to long) a while ago. How do I sum up her shower, and the generosity of friends and family? I am very grateful and touched by everything.

Shelby decided to have a traditional baby shower, hosted by a very dear friend. Wondering what I’d do during this time, I came up with the best idea ever. I’ll have a beer shower. Basically, I invited all the significant others of the ladies that were planning on attending Shelby’s shower over to a family friends house where we’d drink beer, snack on junk food, and BBQ some burgers. It was perfect. While the ladies played games, dined on wonderful food my mom prepared, and Shelby opened presents, us men drank up. We laughed, shared stories, and simply had a great time. Try as we might, 4 hours were simply not enough time to polish off a pony keg, so our plan to combine parties was executed.

It was pretty hilarious, us drunken men made it over to my parents place (where the shower was being held) and joined the ladies. Maybe it was too much beer, but as Shelby showed me the various gifts, decorations, and thoughtful thank you cards, I couldn’t help but get teary eyed. Sure, you get thoughtful gifts for birthdays, graduations, etc, but receiving it for our baby is a whole different ball park. I feel I need to say it again, I’m overwhelmed by the generosity of others. On a day I never thought would come, I found my self pouring though receiving blankets, clothes, oneself all with beautiful embroidering of our baby’s name. It left me breathless. My mom wins first place for the best gift of all. First, she gave us a baby outfit that was knitted by my grandma (who passed away in 2000). This wasn’t just any outfit, but one that was knitted for me when I was a baby. Somehow it still looks brand new. I simply cannot wait to have our son wear it to a special family event. The second gift was a shadow box (basically a deep picture frame) that had a onesie pinned to it with a picture of me as a new born (perhaps 6 months old) wearing the same outfit. These gifts were so special and touching that it left me speechless. I wish I could have been there to see Shelby’s reaction. The impact behind these gifts truly show that money cannot buy you everything. They are priceless.

Shelby also used this time to share the book of our journey. I wish I could have been there to see people pass it around while Shelby was opening gifts. It was a big coming out for us, and it couldn’t have gone better. I’m sure Shelby will share the details soon.

The rest of the night was spent in good company while we finished the keg off. This was a day I will truly never forget, and one that I never thought would arrive.

Time to baby? We’re in the single digit weeks, and I still cannot believe it. I actually put together a crib last night and it’s beautiful. Our nursery is almost complete and I cannot wait to share pictures with you.

A few months ago I mentioned in a blog entry about anyone with experience having a placenta that is “almost too low.” I’m happy to report that at our 28 week level 2 ultrasound, that everything is now looking perfect. This appointment also gave us a good excuse to get a look at our growing boy. We can’t believe that he is already 3 pounds! We got some great shots, including some chubby baby cheeks on the ultrasound. Shelby also thinks that he has my nose. I take that as a good sign that our RE did not switch our egg or sperm

On my way to work after our appointment, I was thinking about all the ancillary questions I get about Shelby’s pregnancy and it really surprised me about how clueless, intrusive, or crass people can be. Everyone thinks they have a question or advice to offer. Perhaps pregnancy is so “common” (or so they tell me) that everyone feels like an expert. I think I’m too nice, because there have been some choice words I’ve wanted to say. For example;

You’re having a boy? You must be so excited!

I find this curious. People automatically assume that since I have a penis, I want a baby with a penis. Really, I don’t care. Ask Shelby, I don’t even know what to with it anyway and if I don’t know what to do with it, what the heck am I going to do with a baby’s penis. (I kid, I kid) I think people are just so drawn to what they are familiar with, they assume everyone is that way.

Congratulations. Now, you know things will never be the same.

No shit, Sherlock. Things have been the same for the last five years we’ve been trying to make them NOT the same. I think we can handle this.

Did it take you long to get pregnant?

I don’t even know you! What kind of question is that? Yes, it took a long ass time. Longer than you’d expect. I would like to answer “No, it took about 2 pumps leaving Shelby VERY unsatisfied, but hey, I got mine.”

Oh, and please don’t remind me how close, or far November is. I’m counting down the SECONDS, so a reminder is not wanted.

*this is a heavy pregnancy related post after infertility post including my experiences over the last few weeks and a video. If you’re not feeling it today, check out my other IF related posts*

It’s here and I can’t believe it. The fabled Third Trimester begins on Saturday (or last Saturday depending on how you calculate these things). I am in awe of Shelby’s transformation over these last 6/7 months. I’m actually living with a full on pregnant lady!

These last few weeks have been an experience that I never thought I’d be able to witness. We even have the beginnings of a damn good looking nursery, even if it’s only paint, a rug, faux wood blinds, a curtain rod and valance that matches our bedding. I still can’t get over it. There’s nursery in my house!

Last night was one of the most amazing pregnancy related experiences I’ve been fortunate enough to witness. Shelby’s belly was full on MOVING with the force of Baby G’s kicks and rolls. With my hand resting on her belly, I could have sworn I felt a knee, foot and baby head, or butt, or SOMETHING. It was wonderful, exciting, special, and intimate all at the same time. Dang, I think I got something in my eye just thinking about it.

I knew pregnancy was a possible side effect of IVF w/ ICSI, but I never thought I’d be able to types these words today. Shelby’s baby shower is planned for September 12th, and we’ve decided to do something special for it. A common thread amongst pregnant IF bloggers, and one that I 100% agree with, has been about how our pregnancy experiences, showers, and conversations with the non-IF crowd can seem to minimize our pregnancy after IF. They can almost seem superficial. Too, well, crass and unappealing, even unappetizing and frivolous. We’ve been no exception to this feeling over the past months. Yes, we’re pregnant. No, it’s not the same. Sorry, it just isn’t.

To carry this thought home, Shelby(and I) has decided to come out of the IF closet at her baby shower. We feel that approaching it with the same non-IF laissez-faire attitude would lesson, almost cheapen, how much we’ve gone though. Yes, every baby is special, but man, this baby is really special to us. We owe it to Baby G.  The point of coming out of the IF closest is to not dwell on our 5 years of heartache, and how much we sacrificed to create sir-kicks-a-lot, but to honor him and the fact that a baby shower is a reality for us.

Coming out of the closet does not mean we’ll be going into procedures, diagnoses (or lack thereof), “what’s wrong with us”, or everything we’ve done in the last 5 years. If people are truly and genuinely curious, we’ll schedule lunch or dinner, but the baby shower won’t be the place for 20 questions. It will simply be a place to share Baby G’s story to those that love him. It will be a place to share with the world how he’s just not any other baby. He’s our baby.

This coming out is going to be done in the form of a photo book that Shelby and I put together in iPhoto. Simply put, this is G’s story that we’ll read to him, share with others, and keep forever.

I’ve converted it to a slide show that I’d like to share with my readers.

You, dear reader, have been a huge channel of support.

An inspiration to write and share.

Without this blog, and the support of the community, I still think we’d be in the IF closet. Thank you for making this photo journey possible.

I’d love if you take the next 6 minutes to experience our baby story. (crap, I think I got something in my eye, again. *sniff*)

Given that this is a book converted to a slide show, please play it in high quality, full screen so the text is readable and forgive the blank pages at the beginning  (they are flaps in the photo book). (Each slide represents a page in our book)

(Lots of nursery talk in this one)

Shelby and I are great procrastinators, we really are, but when it came time to start getting things ready for baby, I’m all over it.

We’re nearing 25 weeks, but I’ve already started getting rooms in the house ready. Why the rush? Well, besides waiting FIVE FRICKING YEARS for this opportunity, it really is part excitement, part a little manipulation of the universe. Sure, I still worry about our little guy each and every day, but I’ve accepted and embraced the fact that *this* is going to happen.

It really is.

We’re so close to viability without major health problems. I can smell it. After getting our carpets cleaned, our office converted into office/guest bed room, I decided to take on a venture that I never thought I’d do; Paint a nursery. As Shelby drives away, leaving to have lunch with a few of her friends, I find myself stirring a can of baby blue paint. Two major things are happening here; I’m actually painting (something I hate to do and suck at) and I’m about to, dare I say it again, paint OUR nursery.

As I pour the No-VOC, light blue paint into the roller bucket, I find myself staring at the liquid and becoming awestruck that this event is here. If one was to catch me at this time, you might even see a tear in my eye. I never thought I’d be happy to paint. I used this time to blast music, put blue on the walls, and take count of things. Over this experience and the past few weeks, I learned a few new things about myself as a father to be;

Why I’m going to be a bad father?

1. I sung along to songs promoting drugs, sex, and rock and roll while painting a nursery.
2. The words; son of a bitch, fuck, god dammit, and shit came out of my mouth more times that I can remember while edging.
3. I threw a (dry) paint brush at my cat for almost getting paint all over the place.
4. I wanted to give up edging after the first 30 minutes.
5. Painting makes me want to drink, heavily.

Why I’m going to be a good father?

1. I painted a nursery while Shelby was out and wanted to surprise her when she got home.
2. I missed the cat with the paint brush.
3. I kept the vision of a complete nursery in my minds eye which served as excellent motivation.
4. I horrible at slowing down, taking my time and being careful, but wanted the nursery to come out perfect and worked very hard at making it so.
5. Seeing Shelby’s smile after she got home made it ALLLL worth it..

How I know I’m going to be a the BEST FATHER IN THE ENTIRE WORLD?

1. If you tell anyone, I’ll deny this: On Monday, I traded my DREAM CAR in for a mini-van and did so with a smile on my face.

(Lots of baby and pregnancy talk in this one)

Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve updated. I know all two of you have been on pins and needles, so this is the day you’ve been waiting for!

Prior to our unscheduled visit to Labor and Delivery at 23 weeks, we were in Portland visiting my cousin, his wife, and their 8 month old baby (Baby L). I have to say, time, situations and perspective is a interesting beast.

My cousin and his family are wonderful, thoughtful, beautiful people who I look forward to spending time with, but in 2008 I simply couldn’t. When they announced a surprise pregnancy prior to moving to Portland, it was like a knife in my chest. You’ve read about that feeling on every IF blog, so I don’t need to repeat it. You get the idea. They moved to Portland shortly after that, and I was glad to not be involved in bump watch.

Their baby was born in Sept. of 2008 and, to me, represented the pain, loss, and un-rewarded efforts in our struggle with infertility.  They came to visit family for Christmas/New Years that year. Shelby should have been due any day, and we should have been beaming to see them and their adorable baby. To make a long story short, we just couldn’t bring ourselves to see them. It was too hard. I felt awful about making a lame excuse and not going to see family visiting from another state, but I knew that we needed to protect ourselves.

Now, present day, I find myself sitting on an airplane that is taking us to see my cousin for the first time in over a year. Those feelings of last year are a memory now and have been replaced with pure excitement of seeing his new baby. I have a special relationship with my cousin, he’s the only person (besides Shelby, of course) that I feel comfortable, and open enough to stay up until 4 AM drinking scotch and talking about anything and everything (ok, the scotch helps). Our conversations range from light heart-ed and jovial to some heavy, deep shit. I tend to shy away from these conversations with most other people, because frankly, I don’t give a crap about what they have to say. They either have no life experience, come from a perspective I do not support, or simply just want to talk at me. My cousin on the other hand, will listen, absorb, and understand.

I’m excited to see him and his family for many reasons and one reason is very new to me. I’m excited to see their baby. What the hell? I’m excited to a baby?! This is a weird feeling to say the least. With our baby due in November, I actually find myself looking forward to getting a crash course in baby. It’s a funny place to be… Shelby and I have spent countless dollars and effort to have a baby, and I’ve really NEVER been around one. I have ZERO experience with one.

I’m also excited to see him and have a single, very important conversation. I want to share our battle with infertility with them. This is one of the few couples that Shelby and I feel comfortable enough to bring them into the loop. As soon as we arrived, the baby talk commenced. The more we talked about baby stuff, the need to share our story grew. I simply couldn’t have the baby conversations without having them know where ours came from. Hours after landing, I find myself telling our story, sharing pictures of our two transferred blasts, and sipping a iced white mocha at Starbucks. While pausing at the end of our story, after explaining how hard it would have been to see them during the holidays, I brace myself for their reaction. This is one of the first times we  explained our struggle, and I prepared myself for the response. As we all know, they can range from ignorant, to rude, to invalidation.

Their response? Complete sympathy and respect for our battle. While they couldn’t understand everything we went through, they sympathized with how hard it must have been on us. They were amazed at how hard we tried, and how strong we are though the battle. They were in awe of the procedures, pictures, and efforts.

It was exactly the response I would have wanted, dare I dreamed of one. Sure, the “fertile” baby talk and advice flowed, but at least they knew our story. They knew the story of our baby growing in Shelby’s belly and that was what mattered to me. Over the course of our visit, and many glasses of scotch, my cousin and I talked about our battle and how hard it has been. It was a weight off my shoulders to talk about this freely.

Only after those conversations were out of the way did I completely open myself up to their baby. This was the first time around her, and I completely let her past all of my built up and hardened baby-defenses. I saw a small hint of what my love will be like for my own baby and it floored me. I didn’t know it was possible to get any more excited about November, but I am. I was worried that I’d have no idea what to do or act around a baby, but my fears were laid to rest. My time with their baby was wonderful. I even managed to postpone a full on baby meltdown by just doing what felt natural.

The trip was worth the visit, in every way. I learned one, important thing about myself that help calm my fears of our own baby.

I will be a good father.