K Daddy scratches his head

As I read the daddy-to-be books, I can't help but wonder about the emotional maturity of pregnant men.

For example, one of the common themes in these books is the fact that men can feel abandoned and left out since Mom is investing more time in the pregnancy and eventual birth of the baby. Another is that they can't go out and play with their friends anymore, or watch their favorite T.V. programs or sporting events.

What the heck? Are you serious? What are we, 10?

Fathers need to be much more than provider and protector; we've come a long way, baby, since the days of Ward Cleaver. Fathers also need to be teachers and nurturers and listeners and lovers and friends.

And they need to be involved. The first book I picked up, The Pocket Idiot's Guide to Being an Expectant Father, states in the intro: "It's important to know that, despite those millennia of experience, it takes conscious effort (and sometimes even a bit of pushiness) for a man to stay involved in pregnancy, birth, and child-rearing nowadays."

And they need to have fun, but not at the expense of their families. Have fun, keep the child inside alive, stay positive – but be personally responsible.

I'm older and hopefully a little wiser, so a lot of what I'm reading about men and their responses to pregnancy in these books is amusing. Maybe I'm an anomaly, but based on personal experience I understand emotional and psychological wasteland that disconnected, disingenuous and destructive fathers can leave behind.

There's no start-over button on the child-X-box, champ. There's no DVR rewind for the big growing up game. Pay attention, be involved and invest in your future with love and compassion.

This will be Father's week since Father's Day is Sunday. Stay tuned.

Baby B graduates from high school; Daddy K gets cooler with K Daddy

Well, not really. The high school part, not the K Daddy. Baby B is a long way from graduating high school, but our niece Celeste was not. She graduated from Mt. Whitney High School last night and we were there to celebrate. We couldn’t be more proud. (Okay, maybe her mom and dad are.)

Congratulations CJ!

It’s been too long since we’ve seen everybody. The first picture includes my nephew Nick, my mom, Celeste and my dad.

The second are the three Mt. Whitney grads (me, CJ and my sister)! Class of 1984, class of 2008 and class of 1986. Go Pioneers!

Check out the video of the Mt. Whitney Alma Mater and the mad rush of grads to pick up their diplomas.

Mt. Whitney High, our Alma Mater true
Our colors unfold, our faith pledged to you
Praises ever are strong and bold
Our hearts will e’re prevail
Mt. Whitney High, we hail, hail, hail!

Had no idea those were the words.

We had a great time at my sister’s after the graduation. Lots of yummy food and friend and family time. I played Guitar Hero for the first time to Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out.” How appropriate is that? I butchered the notes at first and then kinda got the hang of it towards the end of the song.

And then at one point in the night Celeste said, “Hey, K Daddy.”

I said, “No, it’s Daddy K.”

“K Daddy’s cooler.”

She may have something there.

My moments:

Junior high graduation dance, dancing with my friends to “School’s Out”

High school graduation, pushing my best friend Robby down the ramp in his wheelchair

College graduation from SJSU, glowing proudly in a warm sea of caps and gowns

Baby B, these moments pass so fast, like friendly phantoms that dance a fleeting glimpse at sunset, leaving us alone with star shine and sweet dream sleep.

School's out forever
School's out for summer
School's out with fever
School's out completely

Baby B casts a vote; Daddy K yearns for yang

I don’t discuss politics much and certainly don’t want to use this forum to sway any way other than encouraging folk to make a positive difference in their lives and the lives around them. There are plenty of prolific journalists and bloggers in the world who can give you much more insightful political commentary, no matter which way you swing. I’m usually on the fence initially, but if you hit me hard enough, I almost always fall to the left.

Whack. Whoopsie.

Compared to the short history of this great country, in this year alone, the year we’ll be having our first child, a woman and a black man have run for president and have garnered more primary votes than any other candidate before them (Okay I didn’t fact check this and Whoopi Goldberg says I can say black man. We’re good. Yes, I watch The View with Mama A. Is there a problem?) Of course based on this alone doesn't make them the right choice for president, but I do like what they have to say and where they stand.

The past decade has been so polarizing and divisive in American politics, but I’m still proud to be an American and always will be. We’ve traveled all over the world and there’s still no place like home.

No matter your opinions about Hillary Clinton, it was a tough road for her. It always has been for women. I can say this with certainty from growing up with women who had to do daily battle with the men in their lives, sometimes just to stay alive, literally and figuratively, personally and professionally. Baby B will know these stories someday and be a champion for healing and personal responsibility whether a boy or girl (and if he/she ever sneaks out of the house as a teenager, he/she will know the healing glory of backhanded faith smacks – Amen).

Read Lysistrata. Read Margaret Atwood. Read Maya Angelou. Read about Eve, Esther and Deborah. Listen to Tori Amos. Pretend there is no Ann Coulter.

Please. I beg of you.

And anyone who knows anything about black history knows how far we’ve come to the tune of “all men [and women] are created equal” to have a presidential nominee like Barack Obama. (I’m an Obama girl now. Is there a problem?)

And I should give equal time to John McCain. I’m sure he’s a nice man.

Look out Baby B. Here comes history!

I came across a passage in 1776 about a young black poet, Phillis Wheatley, who sent George Washington a poem written in his honor:

Proceed, great chief, with virtue on thy side
Thy every action let the goddess guide.

Now, queue the music…

’Cause I gotta crush on Obama.

Notice how I didn’t use the word “change” once.

Daddy K, Meet Dr. Hicks

I’ve been cooped up working at home all week nursing a nasty cold. Ack.

But I’m not carrying a two-pound baby that kicks and rolls and grows ¼ to ½ pounds per week providing Mama A with practice contractions.

Daddy K, Meet Dr. Hicks.

According to the American Pregnancy Association, It all started in 1872 when an English doctor, John Braxton Hicks, described the contractions that occur before real labor. Can you imagine constantly thinking,"This must be it," and then it wasn't. Doctors and pregnant women have Dr. Hicks to thank for clearing up all the confusion. The following information will help you determine when you are having “the real thing” or Braxton Hicks contractions.

These contractions are normal and some physicians and midwives think they may play a part in toning the uterine muscle and promoting the flow of blood to the placenta.

I think they play a part in knee-jerk mind-bending contractions I’m going to experience every time Dr. Hicks comes a house-callin’.

I may end up growing my beard like that. It's coming back, isn't it?

By the way, thanks for some of you sending your favorite children's book titles. Keep 'em coming!

Daddy K Keeps on Readin’ and Writin’ (and Truckin’)

It’s a troublesome world. All the people who’re in it
are troubled with troubles almost every minute.
You ought to be thankful, a whole heaping lot,
for the places and people you’re lucky you’re not!

Thank you Dr. Seuss for such insight! I just read Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are? the other night to Mama A and Baby B and it was yet another scrumptulescent romp through surreal and silly truisms (sometimes).

Baby B is going to see both the light and darkness of the world soon enough, so it’s up to us to guide (and bob and weave at times). But that’s a blog posting for another time…

In the meantime, I wrote to some of you a little over a month ago that I went down to one of our local used bookstores and picked up three favorite classics of mine: The House on Pooh Corner, Green Eggs and Ham and Go, Dog. Go!

It's been so much fun reading them again!

"I do not like that hat."

"Good-by."

"Good-by."

Crazy fun! Now I have to go back for the Berenstain Bears and Babar and Where the Wild Things Are and The Giving Tree and so many more. And of course I can't forget Toco the Toucan!

Thanks to Heath for loaning us Andrew Henry’s Meadow (makes me wanna build things) and to Amy’s mom for giving us a whole box of old children’s books.

Send me your fave titles,
both old and new,
and I’ll post them in the blog
(and buy some too)!

(Tonight’s posting is a little under the weather, as I’m a lot under the weather. Ack. I feel poopie. But I’ll keep on readin’, writin’ and truckin’. Good night.)

Baby B Asks What’s in My Name?

Once we decided conception was a go, the names were already in our pockets. The B in Baby B stands for something, you know. We’re not superstitious about sharing so here goes.

If it’s a girl, it’s Bumpkin. If it’s a boy, it’s Boondoggle. Boon for short.

You make fun? Check out some of your favorite celebrity baby names.

Name selection is different for everyone. Some parents want to ensure family names are passed down. Some want to ensure they bestow names that won’t be made fun of as the child gets older and starts school. Some want to be as original and creative as possible. Even middle names can have a mix of all of the above.

No worries, though. Bumpkin and Boondoggle aren’t the names we picked. (And no, we don’t want to the sex until we’re holding “it” in our hands.)

Bryce and Beatrice Dahlen Grossman are. Bryce because of our trip through Bryce Canyon in the Southwest last May when we first were truly conscious of our life-changing decision. Beatrice because Beatrice was Dante’s guide on his journey through the Divine Comedy – Hell (Inferno), Purgatory (Purgatorio), and Paradise (Paradiso) – and his one true love in real life, as Amy has always been my guide and one true love.

As Beatrice (or Bryce) will be ours.

Dante saw Beatrice as a saviour, one who removed all evil intentions from him. It is perhaps this idea of her being a force for good that he fell in love with, a force which he believed made him a better person.

Baby B says Amen.

(And if B is an alien/Cylon hybrid, it will be Brytrix 6 the Bug-eyed Benevolent.)

Mama A at Home in the Tub

Amy loves the water. Half of her work week is spent in the physical therapy pool working with patients and the other half of her home week is spent in the tub!

So it’s not surprising that when we discussed how she wanted to give birth, she wanted to be at home with a midwife and preferably in a birthing tub.

Hey, I love her, and because I ain’t the one giving birth, she’s got my vote no matter we decide. And there’s no better progressive birthing place in the world than Santa Cruz. No, we haven’t joined a coven, a cult or a commune. No worries.

Over 90% of births in this country are normal vaginal births (did I just write that?). But sadly cesarean rates in the U.S. have exceeded 40% by some counts. 40%.

Yes, there are emergencies when cesareans are absolutely necessary. My sister’s first birth was very difficult and she had to have one (and her second was scheduled). Amy’s good friend Danielle also had to have two.

That being said the incidence of cesarean is still unnecessarily high and the reasons include:

1. Low priority of enhancing women's own abilities to give birth
2. Side effects of common labor interventions
3. Refusal to offer the informed choice of vaginal birth
4. Casual attitudes about surgery and cesarean sections in particular
5. Limited awareness of harms that are more likely with cesarean section
6. Providers' fears of malpractice claims and lawsuits
7. Incentives to practice in a manner that is efficient for providers

You can read more detail of each here. Don't get me started about Pitocin and the other drugs.

Today an old friend and colleague emailed me and recommended that we watch The Business of Being Born, which we already had watched a few months ago. Another amazing and unsettling account of what it’s like giving birth in this country and the benefits of going with a midwife for a home birth (and we really like ours!).

While we’re certainly not naïve enough to neglect the potential dangers of giving birth at home or in the hospital and know that anything can happen at any time, we’re confident that we’ve made the right choice.

Just say midwifery out loud. It’s like a cool breeze.

Midwifery.
Midwifery.
Midwifery.

Ah, now I float away...