I think any new parent-to-be becomes curious about what their little one will look like. I find myself wondering things like "will he have Franny's manly jaw and my stunning hairline?? or perhaps a combination of my button nose, and Franny's bushy brows???" Well in order to get an idea, I used some cyber technology and know-how to produce an image which I think does a great job of depicting a likely combination of traits.

Behold... Nino.

There is the peanut. Can you see?

The Ultrasound
So the ultrasound couldn’t come fast enough. I was excited to get a better look at the Teeny Tine, but I also wanted to find out what the hell kind of twat suckling parasite was growing in there with him. Fran and I checked in at about 10:00ish on a Thursday morning at St. Marks hospital. They make you drink 32 ounces of water 1 hour before the sonogram, which I did, but I had to pee so badly by 10:00 AM that it was almost debilitating. To make matters worse, we had to bounce around between 2 different rooms until we found a working machine. I could barely walk. I mostly shuffled.

The sonographer, Carolyn, was great. She sticks out in my mind as being one of the lovliest medical people I’ve ever met. She was kind and informative and funny. I should have told her it was much appreciated at the time. She smeared the same old goo on my belly but this time, it almost made me pee all over the place because it was so warm. I saw an image pop up on the large screen above my head. Carolyn moved the transducer around on my belly for a second and then said “wow, you have a nice full bladder. Why don’t you go empty partially?” Apparently my bladder was too full. Trusty ol bladder.

After “emptying partially” I went back out to the table feeling more confident that I wouldn’t dowse the staff in urine at the slightest hint of warmth. This time, Carolyn just took a second and then said “there is your peanut. Can you see?” I was glad she called him peanut. Everyone before her had called it "the pregnancy."


It was too late; I’d already spotted the little lump myself. My little Nino lump-cloudy but distinctly human. I started to cry just a little but I don’t think anyone noticed. I was facing the screen and Franny was watching it from behind me. I thought that would be the best of it, when Carolyn said “We’ll see the heartbeat in just a minute.”

Heartbeat??? I didn’t even realize we’d be able to do that yet. I was 9 weeks along at that point, but I hadn’t even thought of a heartbeat. Heartbeat. Wow.

“First we need to look at this cyst. Wow, that thing is huge.”

Really? Tell me something I don’t know.

“It’s a normal one though. Pregnant women always get these. Yours is just very large and it should have resolved by now. Don’t worry; it won’t hurt the peanut or you. It will just cause pain on your left side.”

Left? Yah no shit left. Dr. Rothtard thought it was on my right even after I told him I had more pain on my left. What a renob.

“Okay, are you ready to see the heartbeat?”

She moved the transducer around and I kept getting quick glances of the little blob. I couldn’t get a good look and I just wanted Carolyn to stop moving the damn wand around so I could stare at the Nino lump all day. She made some adjustments, and then finally stopped. There it was- the heartbeat.

“Do you see that movement there in the middle of the body? That is your baby’s heart.”

Really? Tell me something I don’t know.

I knew right away that what I was seeing was Nino’s heart. There was nothing else in the entire universe I was as sure of. I was speechless. I turned around to look at Franny. He was smiling and watching the screen. I could tell he felt the same way I did. Except with a little dissapointment that it wasn't twins (ass). He looked at me and winked. He understood that I would not be looking at him again until this sonogram was over as I needed to spend every possible second watching our baby’s heart beating inside of me. I was weepy from relief and elation, and I couldn’t stop smiling. I turned to look at the screen again. The heartbeats at 150 beats a minute and it looks like a little bumble bee flapping its wings. I couldn’t get enough of it, but soon it was over.

Carolyn wiped off the goo and I bolted to the bathroom. When I came out, Franny and I thanked her and left the room. We put our arms around each other and started walking out of the hospital. We passed an exhausted looking lady and a nurse in the hallway. The nurse stopped at the front desk and said "we need an ultrasound ordered. This lady just had her baby."
I turned around to have another look at the lady, and I gotta say, she looked like shit.

The picture on the left is an extreme close up of what Nino looked like at 9 weeks. The raisin on the right represents his actual size.

So what I'm hearing you say is...

Dr. Rothtard

My regular gynecologist's office doesn't house anyone who works in obstetrics so I was referred to Dr. Roth. I read about him online and he seemed like a pretty good choice for the most part. He went to a good medical school. He’d been delivering babies for years. He seemed alright so I made an appointment. Waiting for the appointment day to arrive was pretty difficult, because despite having urinated on several sticks, I wanted the confirmation that there was in fact, a little Nino growing in me.


I don’t remember why I started calling him Nino. I just started doing it and it stuck. We also call him The Teeny Tine, Bean McQueen, The Raisin, and Martian. The pregnancy itself goes by the name, “El Nino.” Hence the blogspot address. You might also be asking why I keep referring to Nino as "he". I just think he’s a boy. I’m not really sure why, I just do. I’m 100% sure in fact. Franny, Ahr, and my whole entire family, other than my aunt Deena, think it will be a girl. I’m not really sure why. They probably just want another little me in the universe :)


Finally, the day of the appointment arrived. I went back to the exam room and Roth confirmed I was probably about 8 weeks along. He then brought a small hand-held ultrasound machine into the room. He turned off the lights and I started thinking “wow, am I really going to see The Raisin in there?” He started rubbing the ol goo all over and an image popped up on the screen. I had no clue what in the hell I was looking at. Cloudy chaos was all I saw. Roth wasn’t talking at all. And he kept checking the same place over and over again. I finally said “you’re freaking me out.” That’s when he said, “oh, well the pregnancy is probably right here in this region. I’m just more worried about this giant mass stuck to your ovary. Do you have pain on your right side at all?” I kind of thought it was weird that I had to ask him to tell me what was going on, and that he didn’t even say anything good at all.

This is what my brain thought: “WTF, dude? Worried about a mass on my ovary? Really? Sounds great. You fucktard. Tell me what is going on!!!!”

This is what my mouth said: “Uhhhh kay. I have more pressure on my left actually. Is this bad for the kid?” To which he responded “nah.”

(I thought I'd spare you guys from seeing my actual uterus, so I drew a diagram.)

Basically, I left wondering if I had a horrible disease, but even more unsettling was the fact that I wondered whether I was even pregnant. Roth never actually confirmed anything. He just kept saying "probably" this and "probably" that. He didn’t even prescribe any prenatal vitamins, or ask me if I smoke, or tell me to stop eating Feta. The only thing he was sure about was that I had a gigantic ovarian cyst.I made a follow-up appointment for a week later to have another ultrasound done. This time, with a more precise machine. Luckily I’m not totally retarded and I’d already changed my diet and begun taking a prenatal supplement. I had access to plenty of books, the clickernet, and chicks with kids. I was confident in my knowledge, but at a complete loss about everything else. I started looking for a new doctor.

For realzies. I am!

Fran and I, or rather I, had planned to keep the pregnancy a secret until the first doctor's appointment. I wanted to confirm I really was pregnant before telling everyone on the planet. I couldn't even tell my best good friends or my family. I think my brain needed time to process all of it before I could really form the words anyway. I also needed to pee on several more sticks to feel confident. Needless to say, every pee stick came out with two lines, or a plus, or a "pregnant" result. I think I've totalled 7 since then.

Anyway, Franny was so excited that his "seed had found purchase" (his words) that he told some guy he works with right away. We also went to our good friend's house to BBQ a couple of days after we found out. Upon arrival, it was clear to me that the proverbial cat had been released from the bag. People knew. And that was alright. I can't blame the guy. He is psyched. From then on we pretty much just started blabbing away.


My friends had difficulty figuring out how to react considering it certainly wasn't something I was planning on doing. They all smiled and said "You are? Really? That's.... well how is it actually? Is this good?" I just love them so much for wanting to be supportive no matter what. I'd say "it's good" and they'd just go back to smiling and asking all the right questions.


My parents didn't believe us at first. It was hilarious. They were like "no you aren't. Quit messing with our feelings." It was so funny. When they finally realized we were serious, they cried. I don't think they thought they'd ever have grandkids. They're so excited. My brother was the first to tell me I'd be a great mom. That made ME cry.

Franny's parents are a bit more old school and they wanted to know when we'd be getting married. It seems to be a priority for them, which is understandable and fine. We hadn't talked specifically about when we'd do it. I think we always knew that we'd do it so it wasn't like suddenly we had to figure it all out and have a shotgun wedding just because I was pregnant. It's not 1930. Our names are not tarnished just because I'm knocked up. Sheesh. If it was up to his parents, we'd be hitched already. Fran did take me to get some rings though and he did have a talk with my dad about whatever the hell that dad and boyfriend pre-marriage talk is supposed to be about. We've pretty much been engaged from then on.

Eventhough he didn't have to, Franny did ask me officially to marry him one day. I'll of course, never forget it.

Incidentally, we've decided to get married in autumn '09. Clear your schedules.

Telling Francis

So Franny, guess what...

So I'd spent the day in total denial, but finally alone with my thoughts on the drive home from work, I faced reality.

"I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. Does my insurance cover this? I drank a whole lotta booze 2 weeks ago so the baby will be retarded. When will I find out how retarded he is? Does my insurance cover retarded? What if Franny dies in traffic and I end up having a bastard baby. Wait, is the baby a bastard anyway since we aren't married? Jesus shit! I'm having a bastard baby. Does my health insurance cover bastard? Goodbye youth. It's been fun kind of."

I walked into Franny's house, and by this time I was in tears.

He hugged me and asked what was wrong. I hiccuped that I was pregnant. This is what I remember of the conversation:

Me-"I'm pregnant."

Fran-"Well why are you crying, babe?"

Me-"Uhhh, because I'm pregnant!"

Fran-"I'm stoked. I thought you might be pregnant. You've been acting pregnant lately."

Me-"What in the hell are you talking about?"

Fran-"I'm a cocksman."

Me-(smiling) "Ass."

Fran- "I love you."

Me- "I love you too."

Fran- "We're going to be fine."

Me- "I know."

Franny is the best at chilling me the hell out if needed. He always says the right thing. We talked for a while longer, and finally I was content to just fall asleep. I woke up the next morning all broken-out and puffy from the crying but with a totally new outlook. I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My reflection made me cringe a little and I sarcastically said "you're one hot mama." I realized immediately after saying it, that it was true (except for the hot part.)

Well I'll be dammed.

The day I found out I was

FO SHIZ up the spout...

Disclaimer: I only talk about pee and ovaries a couple of times in this blog post, so don't worry about it being too graphic. If you're sensitive however, I'd recommend skipping the 1st, 4th, and 5th paragraphs.

Back in April, I started to become a little concerned about the fact that I hadn't had a visit from the ol' curse in quite a while. Since this is often an indication that one might be with child, I became concerned that it might be possible, but certainly NOT probable, that I was knocked up. It definitely didn't seem probable enough to warrant taking a pee test. It didn't even seem probable enough that I should tell Franny-my boyfriend/baby daddy/fiance/better half, etc. etc. I mean, we weren't trying so it just didn't seem like it could be real.

Reality did finally creep up on me though. I sat at work one day, googling "pregnancy symptoms" and the such, and realized, I very well might be up the duff. My boobs hurt like a mother effer. I was tired pretty much to the point of hallucinating despite sleeping 12 hours a night. And I was nauseated for no apparent reason. I left work and headed to Dan's on Foothill for a prego test and some pasta salad. I really like the Dan's deli pasta salad. I was sure I'd enjoy it after discovering I was free of zygote.

I finally pulled up to the house I'd shared with 3 of my best friends for the past 2 years. It was weird. I walked in knowing that my life could change drastically...that I only had the time it takes to walk down the hall to the bathroom before I might potentially never be the same again. I started having flashbacks of all of the parties and crazy times we all shared in that house. I remembered the fun and the FREEDOM. I wondered if in the next 5 minutes or so, I'd be saying vamonos forever to my youth.

Just one example of a "crazy time" at my house. I love these kids.

I assured myself that I'd pee on the stick. I'd get my peace of mind- my "not pregnant" result. I'd make a doctor's appointment to fix my chaotic lady troubles. I'd eat my pasta salad. And then I'd go back to work. Everything would be fine.

I'd been holding my pee for a couple of hours by this time so after dousing the "absorbent tip" and replacing the protective cap, I sat there for while with some time to think.
"I have a wonderful boyfriend-my best friend, who I adore. I have a great family, and SUPER supportive friends. I have a good job, and insurance, and I'm a grown-up. It's not like I'm Jamie Lynn or some 16-year-old hussie on welfare who's going to get a lower back tatoo and leave this kid on a bus one day and ultimately be on court TV with my landlord and start doing meth and...."

That was all the thinking I had time to do. I saw the result appear in the corner of my eye. I picked up the test, but I was shaking so badly from nerves that I dropped it on the linoleum floor. It landed upside-down of course, giving me more time to be dramatic about the big reveal. I slowly picked it up, and looked at the digital result. "Pregnant."

"Well I'll be damned." I actually heard those words escape my lips without realizing I'd said them. I wrapped up the test in a million layers of toilet paper and coyly tossed it my bedroom garbage. Then I went back to work. Needless to say, I had lost my appetite and didn't eat the pasta salad after all. I worked the rest of the day like nothing had happened. I signed up for a painting class. I shot the shit with co-workers. Then, on my way home from work, I stopped at Rite Aid for some prenatal vitamins. That's when reality set in....

Just getting a feel for this shiz...

You know what sucks about blogging??? That Garamond is not a font option.

Testing. Testing. Check. CHeeeeeECK!

Not quite sure how this is going to pan out. If anyone ever reads this, feel free to give me tips.