Womb With A View

For those of you who have asked about our pregnancy: so far, so good.

I took off from work Oct. 8 to accompany wife Melissa to Maury RegionalHospital so we could see ultrasounds of our baby, who was 17 weeks and 2 daysold.

The baby was so active the ultrasound technician wrongly assumed that Melissamust have consumed a lot of caffeine. The kid was squirming like the insuranceagent having to pay for all this.

The baby's heartbeat was a healthy 152 times a minute. One-hundred-fifty-twotimes a minute? Sigh. In a few years, that's the frequency with which the kidwill be leaving the refrigerator door open.

I'll admit I wouldn't have known what I was looking at if the technicianhadn't pointed out the body parts. But better men than I have needed imagesclarified for them. ("Budget surplus, budget deficit. I never can keep themstraight, Cheney. They both start with 'B'.")

A father-to-be should maintain a little decorum, but when I saw theultrasounds, I had to restrain myself from blurting out a Steve Urkel-like "DidI do that?" Alternatives included "Aaaayyyy!," "Dyn-o-mite!," and "Shucks, youdrank enough water to fill the ce-ment pond!" ( I guess it's a good thing thatfatherhood will give me less time to watch TV.)

Ultrasounds are an incredible boon to mankind, in that they give parents andphysicians an advance notice of what to expect. Of course the wealth ofinformation would have been useless a couple of generations ago. Who caredwhether the nursery wallpaper was blue or pink when kids slept eight to the bed?And many birth defects could be handled with "Paw, put a tow sack over his haidso he don't scare the plow horses."

We jotted down a Web site for value-priced disposable diapers. No, they'renot environmentally friendly; but faced with washing a mountain of clothdiapers, Melissa and I wouldn't be very people-friendly.

This visit was a vindication of sorts. Three years ago, an infertilityspecialist assured us we would never be able to conceive without the in vitro"test-tube baby" process, at $10,000 for an attempt with no guarantee. We weredespondent at the notion of taking extreme measures to scrounge up the money andsomeday telling our child, "Don't listen to your classmates. Only special kidsget to live in a cave in a state park. And only special kids get to playhide-and-seek with the park ranger. Quick! Here he comes!"

Now that we're this far along, I thought Melissa would want to taunt thespecialist with the ultrasounds; but she doesn't ever want to see the quackagain. Can't blame her. He was probably the first doctor to sew a hospitalgurney inside a patient.

Everything seems normal so far, but I'm still not so certain I can relax.I've seen how Melissa reacts when I squeeze the toothpaste the wrong way, sowhen she says, "And your baby is going to squeeze all my internal organs likethis ...," I'm sure sleeping with one eye open.

Oh, I never did mention the sex of the baby. Well, Baby Tyree is going to be... born to a father who forgot how many words his editors allow him. Did I dothat? Stay tuned.