So I guess it’s my turn to make an addition to this blog, huh? Well then. Here it goes. I blame any and all errors on my editor (wife) and my laziness on this Sunday evening.

Most of you know that I love to read so you can probably imaging that of all the things a person could be excited about when thinking of parenthood, the one thing I’m most excited about is reading to, and eventually with, Winky.

Reading brings back a deluge of memories of my parents my childhood, and some of my favorites at that. I remember the box of Golden Books that Mom brought home and we read together, meeting aliens for the first time, weekly trips to the library with dad, reading together as a family in the living room while waiting for church to start, flying through outer space on a Tuesday night… I could go on…

My mom and sisters were into novels about real people doing real things while Dad read non-fiction and mystery. I was the odd duck in a way, being the only one in the family partial to stories with computers, robots, space ships, lasers, robots with lasers, and stories about how we’ll be able to read each other’s minds in the future.

I enjoy reading from many other genres but anything with a robot in it tugs a special little heart string. I think what I find so alluring in sci-fi is that I get to experience things that nobody will be able to experience in the near future, but still be able to dream that the future becomes a reality. I secretly hope that Winky shares an attraction to this flavor of writing but I am OK with the kid growing up to like any type of book. Besides, no matter what, there will be a short period of time I have captive audience of one to read Space Operas at. Hehehe…

My parents didn’t have the time or money to take us exotic places (and by exotic I mean outside of the upper Midwest) but with the power of books we were able to go anywhere, see anything, as well as learn and do whatever our imagination would allow. I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad knew that every book was a ticket out of Stearns County and a way to avoid getting a super expensive tickets to Mars.*

A while back I came across an article about a school for the deaf in Central America that until the mid 70s was run more like a halfway house than a school. That’s about when the story starts, with the reformation of the school and followed the students as they learned to read for the first time in their 20s and 30s. They described the experience of learning to read as “being able to see for the first time.” They had found a new way of seeing that involved an emotional communication through symbols and a connection to the world around them that binds everyone else who understands the meaning behind the same symbols.

And here is where the science fiction begins to catch up with us. Neuroscientists have since demonstrated that when you read, your brain displays analogous patterns of activity to that of someone experiencing the same phenomenon first hand. The written word is a powerful tool and it is still the closest we can get to reading each other’s minds without having to wear a special hyper-magnetic hat or drink a special chemical invented by some madman in his basement laboratory. Why go through all that trouble when you can get into someone else’s head and truly empathize with them by just reading a book?

And if you stretch that study a little further you could make the argument that you don’t always need to experience things first hand to develop a sense for the rest of the world. That makes me even more grateful to have had parents who saw the value in reading and passed it on to me.

I now find myself in a similar position in life – the same position my parents were in when they had me – lacking the resources to take a child around the world physically.  But that doesn’t bug me at all because I have the same secret weapon that they had. One more powerful than all the weapons of the Ousters brought to Hyperion. I have books and the immense power held between their covers!

I know people who have been all around the world but I don’t know many who have been to space. I’ve been there many times and I’m going to go back. Next time Winky’s coming with me.

*There was a point in high school when my parents would’ve gladly bought me a one way ticket to Mars. For Mom the excuse would be a break from getting calls from school about my behavior and dad would justify the purchase because a one way costs half as much as a round ticket.

Breaking news! Steve and I have never been parents before.

Everything we’re going through right now is completely foreign to us. Sure, I grew up in a home child care environment. Yes, we both had siblings and did our fair share of babysitting. Somehow none of that fully prepared us for being in charge of a child of our own. And more importantly, it certainly didn’t ready us for birthing that child.

As we discussed the labor and delivery portion of bringing a baby into the world, we decided we’d be much more comfortable if we had an experienced support person by our side. We are both brave and strong, but this is very new territory for us. What if I am not my cool, calm and collected self during labor? And I try to push Steve down the stairs? What if we can’t figure out how best to minimize the pain I will undoubtedly be experiencing? What if Steve really, really has to go to the bathroom but I don’t want to be left alone? All of these “what if” situations steered us to one decision: hire a doula.

What is a doula? Glad you asked. If you want to learn a little more (without me going though the motion of typing it all out), just click HERE.

The most important factor for us in our doula search was that both Steve and I be totally comfortable with our choice. After all, this is a person who will be with us for a seriously intense life experience during which we will likely feel pretty vulnerable and unsure. It seems that technical questions are much less important in this type of discernment than a gut feeling.

So we set up coffee dates and we interviewed potential doulas and, wouldn’t you know it, we found one! Two, actually, which means that should Kathy find herself absolutely unable to support us on the big day, Holly will come to the rescue. (Kathy and/or Holly, if you’re reading, I hope you don’t mind me linking right to your websites…)

We’ve had one prenatal meeting with Kathy so far during which we got a chance to know each other a little better. I’m happy to report that both Tivo and Flicker approve of her as well – a great sign! Now we just need to focus on our homework: keep up with the exercise, practice comfort measures and investigate our local La Leche League offerings.

I promise to report back after the birth with our full doula-assisted experience. Exciting reading material to come! Yay!

My back hurts at this point in the game. Not a crippling pain or anything, but enough of an ache that a hot corn sack has become my nightly companion. I can’t imagine life without it! (Katie Ruprecht, something tells me that these were a Christmas gift from you at some point. I’m so glad Steve held onto them!)

In addition to heat therapy, I have a wonderful husband who has been a sport about giving me back rubs. Usually. When I whine enough. The thing is, massages are hard when the recipient has a belly the size of a watermelon and can’t lay on her front side! That’s where a little creativity comes into play.

We’ve discovered that if I sit in front of Steve, he can practice his percussion techniques on my back and it works almost as well as a real massage! It’s a real win-win (maybe even win-win-win) because he gets to pretend he’s still drumming, I get pain relief AND the neighbors don’t have to deal with “that guy” in the building who is playing drums at all hours of the day/night.

I know, Steve. It’s not the same as actually playing the drums. I’m just trying to look on the bright side here.

Just in case you were looking for something to do while you (and we) wait for the baby to arrive, here’s a little something fun:

We’ve set up an online poll to collect your guesses on Winky’s arrival date and important stats. It will only take a couple of moments to participate, so have at it! Who knows? Maybe we’ll honor the winner with some sort of grand surprise…

CLICK HERE to place your bets!

Steve spent the evening meeting with businessmen about entrepreneurship and drones which left me alone (with the pets) in the apartment. Is anyone surprised by how I chose to entertain myself?

• Did some dishes
• Ate a bunch of mac ‘n cheese

• Took a bath

• Called my dear mother
• Snapped some updated belly photos

• Gave myself a manicure*
• Watched a couple episodes of One Born Every Minute (original British version, clearly)

I’m living the dream, right? At one point, I considered leaving the apartment to get a decaf *shudder* latte, but decided it was too much work to walk down the block to Nina’s. This is what my life has become.

*No pedicure because, surprise, I can’t reach my feet any longer.

Sunday was the last in our series of four birthing classes at Enlightened Mama here in St. Paul. I’m a little sad to say good-bye, mostly because I’d gotten used to our Sunday ritual: morning full of whatever we felt like (often cleaning for me and dog park for Steve and Tivo), a few hours of class, grocery shopping at Aldi, dinner and quiet time at home. A perfect end to the weekend. I’m sure we’ll survive with the extra afternoon hours, but it will be hard to top lounging in a giant bean bag chair while learning about what life has in store for us.

Much of what was covered in class was information that both Steve and I had already encountered in our at-home reading, but there was something nice about gathering with other parents-to-be each Sunday afternoon. Plus we always got snacks. Lots of snacks. Delicious snacks.

Our instructor, Erin, was the perfect balance between earthy mama and science-influenced adviser. I think the latter might be the only reason I got Steve to stick out four full weeks of hanging out with strangers, and talking about babies and bodily functions and feelings.

Although there were many activities involved in class, my favorite was a process of elimination game we played to determine what the top three most important aspects of labor/birth are to each of us. We had double-sided cards with varying options on each side (midwife vs. OB/GYN, able to move freely during labor vs. labor in bed, etc.) for which we had to choose our preferred side and then eliminate options until we reached our Big Three. It was really interesting to see what a difference in essential factors there was from group to group, even though I’d say that everyone in the class was fairly like-minded regarding birth practices.

The point of the exercise was really to help give us focus when constructing a birth plan. As much as you can plan birth, you know? So that’s next on our to-do list (and should probably be ready to go for our next appointment with the midwives): write out our birth preferences.  Better get to work…

(You probably noticed the photo fail. No pictures. Only boring text. I’m just leaving room for improvement.)

Last night (after a rousing family sing-along) we discovered Winky’s preference for songs by men named Harry.

• Harry Nilsson
• Harry Belafonte
• Harry Chapin

This kid has got good taste!

In particular, Winky danced up a storm to Steve’s rendition of this memorable tune:

Here we are, family and friends. Only eight more weeks and this fragment of the Ruprecht family will include three bodies instead of just two! It continues to be a mind-blowing thought, but I like to believe we’re ready at this point.

To catch you all up, I’ve been growing a baby since the middle of July 2014. The pregnancy has really been a breeze (which I sometimes feel guilty about.) I mean, you know you’ve got it good when your worst complaints are that you sometimes run out of breath climbing three flights of stairs and going to the bathroom all the time is a slight inconvenience.

Steve and I decided early on that we were not going to find out the sex… and we’ve been successful! It will be a grand surprise come April 5 (or roundabout then.) Any guesses? Shoot them our way! All we know right now is that if it happens to be a boy, he will likely be nameless for a while. We can’t agree on labels for a male child. Maybe we’re just going to have to settle for Winky – the nickname that the tiny being has adopted in utero.

My goal is to keep the information coming so that you can all remain in the loop whether you live down the street or across the country. Content will likely be boring sometimes. And may occasionally contain too much information for those delicate readers out there. Sorry? You asked for it by following the blog.

Oh, and pictures. I really hope to feed you lots of pictures. They are more fun than boring text posts anyway, right? Right.