We're Only Making Plans For Nigel

Okay, so apparently those contractions were the real deal. We went to the hospital at around 2am Thurday morning and were admitted. From about 2:30am until about 11PM that night Margaret breathed and contracted, rode the birthing ball, took numerous showers and walked laps around the maternity ward. The problem was that as the evening wore on the progress the Bean had made ground to a screeching halt. He simply refused to move any further into Margaret's pelvis.

The doctor broke her water and we hoped this would speed up the process.

No such luck.

Finally, the doctor on call (not the doctor Margaret has been seeing) advised Margaret that he had gone as far as she was going to go with natural childbirth, and that they were going to have to do a Ceasarian section. We were obviously disappointed, especially Margaret, who was determined to have the child naturally. I was handed a pair of scrubs and told to wait, while Maragret was wheeled into the OR. Several minutes later a nurse came to escort me to the OR, but on the way she revealed that the spinal tap they were trying to use on Margaret wasn't working, and that they would have to put her under. That meant that I couldn't be in the OR while the procedure was going on. Since Margaret would be knocked out, it meant that neither of us would be able to witness the moment our child entered the world.

What can I say? I cried upon hearing this news. Nine months of waiting for this day, and I can't even greet my son. As I stood outside the door of the OR I could hear the doctors and nurses talking, and suddenly their banter was interrupted by a loud wail of protest. It seems that our son had arrived, and man, was he pissed off. Even before I saw him I knew that there was nothing to fear in the area of respiratory health. Margaret's mom and sister were serepated from the OR by a hallway and two thick doors, but they heard him carrying on loud and clear.

Finally, the nurse stuck her head out the door. "It's a boy," she said, "and he's a big one." Several minutes later the door opened, and this is what I saw...


Of course I began blubbering like a baby all over again. I now understand the meaning of the Yiddish word verklempt. (Tawk amongst yourselves. I'll give you a subject. The Arc de Triumph is neither an ark, nor a small English sports car.)

Ladies and gentlemen, it gives us great pleasure to introduce to the world Mr. Charles Nigel Grant. Born at 12:15am on Friday, May 26. Weighing in a a hefty 9 pounds, 3 ounces and an impressive 23 inches in length.

If you thought I was humbled the night we found out we were expecting, that's nothing compared to this. Nigel (as we'll call him) just became our entire universe.

If that isn't perfection, then I don't want to know what perfection is. Ten fingers and ten toes. Full head of hair, including sideburns, and a mouth shaped precisely like his late grandfather's for whom he was given his first name (Charles).

After the birth I accompanied Nigel and the nurse to the nursery, where he was bathed. As you can see below, Nigel was less than impressed by the bath, although he did like the shampoo.


After the bath they gave him a few shots and then I went to check on Margaret. She was coming around, so I brought Nigel in so they could bond. She wept for joy upon seeing him, which of course got me started all over again. Nigel just kept looking like Edward G. Robinson, star of numerous film noir gangster flicks from the 30's and 40's, one Bugs Bunny cartoon, and who had a memorable part in The Ten Commandments flick with Charlton Heston ("Where's yer god now, Moses? Nyah! Nyah!")



I'll tell you, there's nothing like holding a sleeping baby. The picture below says it all.




So was the last nine months worth it? One look into my son's eyes and it was worth everything.

Where's That Confounded Bridge?

Okay, so Margaret thinks she's having contractions. They are about 30 minutes apart, and they are not all that strong, so we don't think it's time to go to the hospital yet. In our birthing class we were told that she'd know when the real contractions were happening because she wouldn't be able to talk while they were happening. We'll see what happens.
They blew up the last section of the Pearman Bridge over the Cooper River today. In the pictures shown three posts ago, it's the one remaining piece of bridge still up after the explosion. The picture above is the charges going off today, I'll spare you the sequential pictures of the bridge falling, because it looked just like the photos in my previous post. Just a few concrete columns and a couple of sections over dry land in Charleston, and it will be as if the Grace and Pearman spans never existed. Sad.

This just in...

...um, no baby yet. While we wait, please enjoy a picture of a bunny with a pancake on its head. So strange, and yet so cute.

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

Well, if I had placed a bet in the "baby lottery," which is apparently a real thing at my wife's workplace where everyone puts in $5 and guesses the birthdate, I would have come up a loser. A few posts ago I predicted May 19 as the big day, and that bird has flown. The Bean seems to have dropped a bit more, meaning his grand arrival could now come at any time. We are expecting him sometime this week.
The first picture you see was taken March 19, almost exactly two months ago. The second picture was taken yesterday evening as Margaret and I went to see Vintage Velvet, a very cool cover band that plays 30's and 40's standards mixed with a few more modern selections. We were walking to the car after the show and I snapped the photo, and now that I look at it I have to admit it totally looks like one of those paparazzi shots you see in People or The Star. Margaret isn't too keen on being photographed these days, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let this stage of our lives go by undocumented.
My sister from California hit town this past Thursday, and my other sister will be driving with her family down from Boston next week. Everyone is congregating for "Baby Time '06," and I sometimes get the feeling that Margaret is experiencing a bit of performance anxiety. Obviously the Bean will come when he's ready, but I really think Margaret is afriad he'll wait until everyone has gone home to come out. Only time will tell.

I Make My Living on the Evening News...

I got a call this morning from a producer at a local news affiliate wanting to know if I'd come in and talk about summer movies. I had done this a couple of times before and had enjoyed it so I told him I'd be happy to come in. The achorman who interviewed me (it was really more of a discussion than an interview) was Raphael James, and he made the experience very enjoyable. I worked in radio for about ten years, and I definitely have a face for that meduim (as you can see from the pics above), but it was definitely something I'd do again.
Still no word from the Bean. He seems to be moving around less and less as things get cramped in his temporary housing. With any luck we will get to meet him in the next one or two weeks. I swear the closer we get the more impatient I become. It's like I'm five again and waiting for Christmas.

Pressure Drop

Well, we went to the doctor yesterday and it is official; the Bean has dropped. It's just a matter of time now until he makes his entrance into the world. I could tell by looking at Margaret this morning that he had dropped. Man, I'm really getting impatient to meet the little guy.
Today I went out to watch them demolish the last bit of the Grace Memorial Bridge that goes over the Cooper River. The above pictures (taken by yours truly) show the piece as it is blown up. The pieces are then scooped out of the water and either recycled or sunk further out at sea to make an artificial reef. The bigger bridge in the background is the brand spanking new Arthur Ravenel Bridge, which was opened last summer. The Grace Bridge was built back in the 20's, while its neighbor, the Pearman Bridge (you can see what's left of that bridge in the last picture) was constructed in the 60's. It's weird to know that the Bean will grow up with no memory of those older bridges, except for what he sees in pictures. He never even got to ride over it as a fetus.

Stop!....Shower Time...

Margaret had her baby shower yesterday. It was thrown by her sister at her house in Awendaw, and plenty of female friends and family showed up for the occasion. In the words of one of her co-workers, "Margaret really raked it in." I could be wrong on this, but I think that for about the first year of his life the Bean won't have to wear the same outfit twice. My sister from Boston, who wants to have a baby herself, basically sent the entire contents of a Babies R Us to us in the mail. I told her to put the credit card down and step away slowly, but in all seriousness friends and family have been very, very generous to us.
My Dad was involved in an apparently nasty auto accident on Saturday. He was going through an intersection downtown when another car ran the light and T-boned his SUV. The collision was enough to actually flip my Dad's vehicle on its side. Some witnesses helped him climb out of the car, and so far it appears that he escaped with barely a scratch. We went down to see him this evening, and he looked fine. He did go to the ER to get checked out, and he has a regular doctor's appointment tomorrow. After his recent fight with cancer that cost him half a lung, it appears that the guy has nine lives. We all sat down in the living room to talk, and Dad and his wife Sheila gave us their shower gift. Sheila had been planning to go, but then the accident happened and she thought it better to stay home with Dad. Can't say as I can blame her. So we're talking and all of a sudden I get an idea. "Is he moving?" I ask my wife. "A little bit," she says. "Would you mind letting them feel?" I ask. "Sure," she says. Thanksfully my wife is not squeamish about people touching the baby stomach. "You wanna feel the baby move?" I asked the folks. I wish I could have taken a picture of the look on Dad's face. He all but jumped out of his chair to get over to place his hand on her belly. The above photo is my Dad feeling his unborn grandson kick. Great stuff...

The Mayor of Simpleton

Went to see a show at Theatre 99 that some of my friends were putting on last night. The production was called Cabaret Kiki, and it was spectacular. Singing, dancing, short films, shadow puppetry, audience participation. The premiere performance sold out, and hopefully future showings will as well. Just before the show we had taken our seats and the theater was filling up fast. In the row in front of us, a man asked the guy next to him if he would watch the three seats he was saving while he went to meet his wife and her friend. Almost as soon as the guy walked away, this couple walked into the theatre and made a beeline for the three empty seats. The man who had left had placed his jacket and a couple of beers in the seats in question, so there was no doubt they were already occupied. The husband of the couple picked up one of the beers and set it on the floor, then asked no one in particular, "Is anyone sitting here." The guy who had been asked to watch the seats (by the way, I hate it when a total stranger asks me to hold a seat in a crowded theater. it's just a sucky feeling to have to tell person after person the seat is taken. you get all the dirty looks, and the guy you're looking out for does nothing) advised the man that the seats were already spoken for. The man then sat down in one of the seats and beckoned to his wife to do the same. "Um, there is already someone sitting there," said the seat-minder. "Well, now I'm sitting here," sniffed the seat-taker. I then recognized the seat-taker as a guy I've seen out at shows who basically shows up to be seen. Old guy, long greasy hair, bearing a more than passing resemblance to Bob Dylan. He spends a lot of the shows he's at talking over the performance, something I absolutely hate.
I can't let him get away with his current behavior.
I tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, there is someone already sitting there." The guy ignored me. The seat-minder again tried to tell him someone is coming back, and the seat-taker said, "I don't see anyone." Again, I tapped the guy on the shoulder and said, "Okay, two people have now told you that someone is sitting in those seats." The seat-taker turned around and said, "Do you work here or somethin'?" "No," I replied. "Then mind your own business!" he spat.
What is this, second grade? Unfortunately, my rebuttal was at about that grade level. "What an asshole," I said loud enough for the next few rows to hear.
The original occupant of the seats then came back and of course there was an argument between the two, and fortunately the original seat-holder stood his ground. The seat-taker then came around and made sure to pass by on our aisle. As he passed, the grade school theatrics continued. "Thanks for nothin'," said he. "Kiss my ass," replied I. Not one of my better moments. The thing is, had I not recognized the guy as someone who continually annoys me at performances, I probably wouldn't have gotten involved. The dude needed to be taken down a peg or two though.
Speaking of seats, the same week we found out we were expecting, we bought a seat at Theatre 99 for $100. The comedy troupe who owns the theatre, The Have-Nots, were trying to raise money for a wheelchair lift, which the zoning board had told them was needed to comply with handicap regulations. The theatre is on the second floor of a building. The cost was expected to be $20,000. One of the ways the Have-Not's were raising dough was to sell each of the seats in the theatre for $100 apiece. In return for buying a seat you got a plaque put on one of those seats with an inscription of your choice. The picture above is our plaque, which interestingly enough we sat down two rows directly behind last night. The quote, "Making plans for Nigel," comes from a song by the same name by the band XTC.
We are indeed making plans for the baby, who...um, may or may not be named Nigel. Just wait until he's born and it will all become apparent.

And I think to myself...what a wonderful world...

Ladies and gentlemen, if the doctor's due date is indeed accuate, then we are officially inside the one month mark. Wow, seems like just yesterday Margaret was heading out to Target for that pregnancy test. I personally think that the Bean will make his grand entrance into this world before May 29, which is the aforementioned date in question. Perhaps I should be taking bets and putting the cash toward junior's college fund. Any takers? I'm feeling good about May 19. Do I have anyone for May 19?
I went to the movies today and saw United 93, which tells the story of the one plane that didn't make it to the destination the terrorists had planned to put it on September 11, 2001. The film was very well done, but it was also absolutely brutal to watch, in part because you know going in what the outcome is going to be, but also because, at least in my case, the film took me back to that horrific day. I was producing a morning new-talk show then, and we were live on the air when things started going down. We reported after the first plane hit the World Trade Center. I was watching the television in my control room when the second plane hit live on the air. I, like most people who were watching that day, went from thinking the first plane was some sort of bizarre accident, to thinking, "wait a minute, what are the chances of two planes accidentally hitting the WTC.?" I normally got off the air at 10am (after arriving at 4:30am to begin the day), but I continued working that day until after 10pm, after which I went home, hugged my wife, and wept. The Greatest Generation has Pearl Harbor, my generation's loss of innocence came that September morning in 2001.
Anyway, if you haven't seen United 93, I highly recommend it, mostly because the filmmakers didn't try to over-dramatize the story. Actually, I don't think they could have if they tried. The story unfurls in real time, and while it is heartbreaking to watch as realization sets in among the passengers of flight 93, it is even sadder to watch the aviation officials, government officials, and military personnel attempt to react to the crisis. To say we were caught napping is an understatement.
So why all the talk of 9/11? Well, the film got me thinking about the world we are bringing the Bean into. We're at war because our president basically lied about WMDs being in Iraq, and as a result most of the world now hates us. Gasoline is hovering just below $3.00 a gallon, crooked CEOs are pillaging their corporations 401k accounts, the cost of living goes up and most people's wages do not follow suit...
It's not that I don't want the Bean to come - quite the contrary, I can't wait to meet him. But nonetheless I worry about his safety and well-being, despite the fact that I know I'll do anything in my power to make sure he is kept fed, clothed, sheltered and loved. I'm willing to bet that every expectant father wrestles with these thoughts. It just all came rushing in after seeing that movie today. I promise I'm not in a gloom and doom mood. I also constantly think about how much fun we're going to have teaching the Bean and exposing him to all the beautiful and wonderful things this world has to offer. His happiness will be priority number one. Actually, it already is.
Lately when I scratch Margaret's back the Bean wriggles around inside her. It's really weird, but I guess he can either sense that she is receiving something pleasurable, or else he is reacting to her arching her back when I scratch. You can actually see oblong bumps on her belly where a foot, hand, or perhaps even a little fetal derierre is poking out. I'll try to get a picture of that to post in a future entry.
I went to see one of my favorite bands, They Might Be Giants, last Saturday night. It was a great show, and the band played a lot of old stuff. I even got to meet one of the band members, John Flansburgh, after the show. That's him on the right in the photo. TMBG is probably best known these days for writing and performing the theme song to the TV show Malcolm in the Middle. I have been listening to the band since its first album came out in 1986. Can't wait to expose the Bean to weird stuff such as TMBG's music. Won't be long now....seriously, anyone want to place a bet?