A True Tennessee Vol

John Patrick Newman, expressing his displeasure over the Tennessee Vols' late season basketball loss to Vanderbilt.

Welcome to the Hotel California

On the eve of our fourth night at Baptist Hospital, a line from the famous Eagles' song, Hotel California, captures our mood - "You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave."

That's not completely accurate, because we elected to stay at the hospital a fourth night. John Patrick has lost a little weight since he was born, which is not unusual. However, the slight weight loss combined with the fact he was circumcised this morning (which makes changing diapers a little more difficult) led us to decide to go home tomorrow, as opposed to today. Our pediatrician told us it was our call. Plus, several friends had advised us to stay in the hospital as long as our health insurance would allow. So, here we are.

Jude and I were talking and laughing this afternoon, when I made note of the fact that by day four, a hospital stay feels kind of like a prolonged visit to a casino in Las Vegas. You have no idea what time it is, what the temperature is outside or what the weather is like. You start to recognize different hospital staff members, as they rotate on and off their shifts from day to day, just like the black jack dealers, bartenders and maids in a Las Vegas casino. You never see a newspaper or watch CNN, so you completely lose track of current events. Also, you're staying in one room which, after the fourth day, starts to feel smaller and smaller. Really, the similarities are striking.

Breast feeding is still a challenge, but Jude and John Patrick are making great progress. Staying here an extra night has given us the opportunity to continue to avail ourselves of the resources Baptist Hospital has to assist new mothers learning to breast feed. Paula Appleby, a lactation consultant, has been particularly generous with her time and has helped us a great deal. We're so appreciative of her efforts.

This morning, our pediatrician, Dr. Godfrey at Green Hills Pediatric Associates (whom we love, by the way) aptly compared breast feeding to learning to ballroom dance. At first, it feels really awkward, is somewhat frustrating and isn't much to look at. However, after a little practice, you and your partner find a little rhythm, it looks and feels more natural and is a beautiful thing. I think he's right.

The Baby Whisperer

Last night, a little past midnight, a nurse from the nursery brought John Patrick to our room, per our instructions, so he could breast feed. We heard the knock on our door, wearily got up and prepared to try to breast feed him. When the nurse rolled him into the room in the bassinet, he was really wailing, probably angry at having been aroused from a deep sleep. His face was red as a beet and his eyes were scrunched up, as he cried.

I lifted him out of the bassinet, kicking and screaming, and handed him to Jude. As I thought to myself, "this is not going to go well," I witnessed an amazing transformation in his mood. Jude held him close and very quietly, started talking to him, reassuring him. We only had one light on, so the room was dim, and I smiled as I watched my wife comfort our son. Almost immediately, he stopped crying and squirming, became really quiet and just looked up at her. It was a beautiful, transcendent moment and, I think, probably a sign of things to come.

In a text message she sent me last night, before Jude and I went to sleep, a friend of mine - Lisa Kirkham - summed up perfectly how I feel about the experience of child birth. She said, "having a baby is like falling in love again. It's such a great feeling." I couldn't have said it better myself.

The Day After

Neither Jude nor I got much sleep last night. First, our nursery nurse, Robin, brought John Patrick to us from the nursery about 2 a.m. He was fussy, crying a bit, but we were able to calm him down and get him back to sleep. Then, our nurse or a tech came in to check on Jude every hour after that, at 3 a.m., 4 a.m. and 5 a.m. Fortunately (for me, anyway), I was able to roll over and ignore most of what was going on, although I wasn't able to sleep soundly. We did sleep in until about 8:00 a.m., which was nice.

After I got up and showered, I went to the nursery and retrieved John Patrick, then brought him back to our room. He stayed with us throughout the day, alternating between sleeping, crying and trying to breast feed. Believe it or not, I'm turning into a professional diaper changer. Jude's still very sore, obviously, from the C-section, so it makes more sense for me to change all of the diapers. Actually, I've enjoyed it.

We got to spend some more time with Jude parents, her brother and his fiance, Megan. James and Megan flew in from New York City, which was really nice. James seems quite taken with being an uncle, a feeling to which I can certainly relate. My sister, Alice, stopped by, as well, and delivered two dozen cupcakes I had ordered from Gigi's, a new cupcake store on 21st Avenue (I swear, I'm not making that up - a cupcake store). The cupcakes were a huge hit, especially with the nurses. The number of different flavors is astounding. We have banana, chocolate malt, birthday cake, strawberry angel food cake, double chocolate, rasberry cocunut and lemon. My mother dropped by this afternoon and delivered us a couple of towels and a blanket for me.

The breast feeding is a challenge, as we expected it would be. Fortunately, a lactation consultant - Paula - stopped by our room twice today to assist us. She was fantastic and with her help and guidance, Jude gained a lot more confidence in her ability to breast feed our son. By this evening, he was latching on her breast and really seemed to be making progress. I'm telling you, it's something to see. After he finished, he practically passed out and was sleeping soundly until we returned him to the nursery about 9:30 p.m.

As a matter of fact, Jude and I returned John Patrick to the nursery together, as she ventured from our room for the first time. We made a couple of laps around the hallway, with Jude pushing the rolling bassinet and leaning on it for support, before arriving at the nursery. Our plan, currently, is for our nursery nurse to bring him to us every three hours (midnight, 3 a.m. and 6 a.m.), so he can breast feed. Sounds like another night without a lot of sleep, which I suspect is going to be the norm for a while.

Hello, my name is . . .

Say hello to John Patrick Newman. As you can see, he's damn glad to meet you.

Miracles Do Happen

Where to begin?

This morning, March 28, 2008, at 11:11 a.m., Jude gave birth to a 7 lb, 13 oz beautiful baby boy. He's perfect in every way. Before you ask, we don't have a name, yet, although we will by tomorrow morning. Actually we have a name, but we're going to sleep on it before we make it official. And no, it's not Hannibal, Myron, Melvin or Phude.

We arrived at Baptist Hospital at 8:15 a.m., this morning, where the first order of business was to get ourselves checked in at the registration desk. About 8:45 a.m., we moved to a waiting room, where we hung out until about 9:30 a.m., when we were moved to a room. There, a melange of hospital personnel shuttled in and out of the room, asking Jude and me a variety of questions, giving her medication, poking and prodding Jude (taking blood, starting an IV, etc.) and generally preparing her for surgery.

Around 10:00 a.m. or so, the nurse anesthetist and a tech came to get Jude. They rolled the bed, or gurney, she was on down the hall, with me trailing close behind. As we made the long walk toward the operating room, I began to feel a little nervous for the first time all morning. It was nothing bad, though, just a few butterflies in my stomach. When we arrived at the double doors that opened to the hall where the operating room was, Jude and I parted ways, as I had to wait while they placed the epidural and prepped her for surgery.

I sat, alone, in a chair, for 20 to 30 minutes. For me, it was much more difficult not being with Jude than it would have been to watch them stick the needle in her spine and place the epidural. I knew she was in good hands, but I felt helpless, not being there with her. Silently, I said a prayer for her and for the baby. I checked my watch several times, but time seemed to stand still. Finally, our ob/gyn, Roseann Maikis, M.D., walked around the corner, on her way to the operating room, and greeted me warmly. She smiled, asked me if I was ready to be a daddy and told me she would send for me in a few minutes. I can't tell you how fortunate we are to have such a fantastic doctor.

Five or ten minutes later, I heard a noise, the double doors swooshed open, and a nurse told me to follow her. I stood up, put on my surgical cap and mask and followed her down the hall to the operating room, not really knowing what to expect. When I walked into the operating room, there was a bustle of activity. There were several people present, all in "scrubs," and all very busy. The nurse escorted me to a chair positioned at Jude's head and I sat down, my camera in my lap. I held Jude's hand, leaned close to her and told her I loved her. Her face was a mask of intensity and concentration, as she prepared herself, mentally, for surgery. She didn't look scared at all, just very, very focused.

There was a cloth draped over Jude about chest level, so neither she nor I could see, directly, what Dr. Maikis was doing. Dr. Maikis was positioned on Jude's left, while another doctor or a nurse was on Jude's right. The nurse anesthetist was at Jude's feet, while the anesthesiologist moved around a good bit, even leaving the room a couple of times. Another nurse was just above Jude's head, with me. Jude was conscious the whole time and able to talk, though she didn't say much. Everyone had a job to do and everyone was doing their job. It was very efficient.

As the beginning of the procedure, I must admit I was startled by the fact that the doctor or nurses assisting Dr. Maikis were engaged in a very spirited conversation about her new puppy. If I had closed my eyes, I would have sworn the conversation was taking place in a restaurant, over a bottle of wine. I felt like I had walked on to the set of "M*A*S*H," as Hawkeye and Trapper John cracked, wise with Frank while all three doctors performed life saving surgeries on wounded soldiers. Part of me was reassured by the matter of fact way in the hospital personnel in the operating room were talking and working, but part of me wanted to shout or yell at them to talk about the surgery, the practice of medicine in general or some other subject of a serious nature. Soon enough, though, I could tell we had arrived at a critical part of the surgery, as the banter between them ceased and conversation was limited to requests by Dr. Maikis for surgical instruments (retractor, suction, etc.) or comments about the procedure itself.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dr. Maikis told Jude she had been able to make a nice incision, the same size as the baby's head. The nurse told me to get my camera ready, which I did. I let go of Jude's hand and stood up, just as we heard the sound of a baby crying. Not so much crying, as really, really wailing, like he was mad as hell at the world he had just been forced to enter. I looked across the cloth draped over Jude's chest and, for the first time, got a glimpse of our son. As I snapped a photograph of Dr. Maikis and one of the nurses holding him up, tears filled my eyes. I looked at Jude, who was also crying, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes, and told her he was perfect. I hugged her and we cried a little together, overcome with emotion.

The nurse put our son in a warmer, cleaned him up, then placed him on Jude's chest. I snapped a few photographs as Jude took a good, long look at our son. He was crying, loudly, and I told Jude our son was going to be a loudmouth, just like his daddy. She smiled and nodded her head, and continued to stare at him. After a couple of minutes, the nurse put him back in the warmer, swaddled him in a blanket and handed him to me. I followed her down out of the operating room, down several halls and toward the nursery. I was terrified I was going to fall or otherwise drop him on the floor. After arriving at the nursery, I probably took a hundred photographs of our son as yet another nurse weighed him, checked his vital signs, gave him a couple of shots, gave him his first bath and shampooed his hair. Later, when they brought Jude to recovery, the nurse wheeled him in to see his mother - my beautiful, strong and amazing wife.

It's almost midnight, now, and Jude and our son are doing fine. Everyone is healthy. We kept him in the room until about 10 p.m., then I took him back to the nursery for the night. Jude is exhausted and has been napping off and on. In addition to Jude's parents, her brother, James, and my mother, Alice and Dell Walker and my sister, Tracy, stopped by to see us tonight.

The whole experience, especially seeing our son for the first time, was incredibly emotional. I need some time before I can really process what happened today and begin to understand what it all means. I do know, though, that God was with us today and blessed us with this beautiful child. I've never seen a miracle before, on this earth, but I'm pretty sure I saw one today.

A Heartfelt Thanks

Jude is upstairs, hopefully asleep, and I am headed there myself. It's past midnight and there's no sound but the hum of my laptop and a train blowing its horn, off in the distance.

I have been truly amazed, the last couple of days, by the number of people - friends, family, co-workers, colleagues and clients - who have spoken to me, telephoned me, emailed me or texted me, just to wish Jude and me well and to let me know we're in their thoughts and prayers. To quote what a client at Renewal House once told Jude after a meaningful conversation, "my heart is full."

The support and friendship so many have shown us the past nine months means everything to me. Thank you all.

It's Go Time

Less than 12 hours from now, Jude and I will be arriving at Baptist Hospital to check in and get this show on the road. Right now, we're just relaxing, watching the Vols play Louisville in the third round - "sweet sixteen" - of the NCAA tournament.

We're ready. At least, I think we're ready. Our bags are packed. Actually, I repacked mine tonight, just to be safe and because the weather has turned warmer the last few days. I may repack it a third time before I go to bed.

This morning, I tried to install the base of the car seat in my truck. I failed miserably, but when I got to work, Deb Rubenstein helped me and we were able to loop the seat belt through the base and attach it to the seat, sort of. Then, to be safe, I called Jeff Hughes, one of my friends with the Brentwood Police Department, to see if someone there could inspect it for me. On my way home, I stopped by and a female police officer with a 2-year old son took one look at the base of the car seat, shook her head, and completely removed it from my truck. Next, she climbed in my truck, reconnected the seat belt, straps and loops, and I was ready to roll. I never would have figured it out on my own.

Jude and I assembled the "Pack and Play" tonight and it's in our bedroom, waiting on our baby. Fortunately, it wasn't very complicated to assemble. Now, if we can just keep the cats out of it. Too late. Jude just called down from upstairs and told me N.C. (one of our cats) is in the "Pack and Play," sleeping on top of the beach towel Jude had laid across the top of it.

This afternoon, Jude finished the baby blanket she had been knitting. It's beautiful. She started it six months ago and I wasn't sure she would be able to get it done before she had the baby. Perfect timing.

I took our new video camera out of the box a little while ago and now I'm charging the battery. I've skimmed the instructions. It has an "easy" button, so I'm hoping that means it's easy to operate. We'll see about that.

Come to think of it, something tells me Jude and I will be looking for a lot of "easy buttons" over the next 18 years. Here's hoping we're able to find a few of them.

The Calm Before the Storm

We're down to counting hours, now, as opposed to days. Wow! Tonight, we're relaxing after dinner, watching television. Jude is playing in an on-line poker tournament (her latest pastime). It's a free tournament, not for money. That comes later, when I take her to Vegas to begin working in earnest on her second career, as a professional poker player. I was able to get a run in at Shelby Park late this afternoon, which was nice.

Jude's last day at work (pre-baby) was today, as she's taking tomorrow off. I'm glad she's going to have tomorrow to take it easy, spend some time alone and "get her game face on," as she describes it. She's pretty uncomfortable now, so the rest will do her good. I still have some things to wrap up at work, but I am going to try to get away mid-afternoon.

As I told Jude tonight after dinner, the last couple of months seem to have flown by. To me, the closer we've gotten to our due date, the faster time has passed. Early on, it seemed like the baby would never get here. We spent a lot of time thinking and talking about the pregnancy. The last few weeks, we've spent most of our time thinking and talking about caring for a real, live baby, in our house. Again, wow!

The other day, Jude said she was to the point where she really wanted to have the opportunity to see our baby's face for the first time, to look him in the eyes. I think that statement sums up where we are, mentally and emotionally, right now. We're ready, at least I think we are.

Yesterday, in response to an email from our good friend, Lela Hollabaugh, Jude said she was ready for Friday to get here, so she could have the baby. In fact, her exact words were, "At this point, I am looking forward to Friday. Bring it on, I say." Man, I love that woman. She's the strongest, bravest person I know.

Easter Sunday

As I've mentioned before, an important part of our life is attending church on Sundays at St. Patrick's Catholic Church. It's kind of hard to explain, but from my standpoint, anyway, I just feel a sense of peace on Sunday mornings, from the time we arrive at St. Patrick's until we leave. Normally, we sit in the same place, up front on the left, amidst the same people. It's reassuring, to be in the same place, at church, with the same people, every Sunday.

It's human nature, I think, to be frightened of the unknown. In a matter of days, three to be exact, Jude and I are going to begin our journey into the biggest unknown of all . . . parenthood. Not to proselytize, but it helps me tremendously to know that every week I can go to St. Patrick's, take a deep breath, relax, and know that my prayers for Jude's health and well being, along with that of our baby, will be heard.

Yesterday, St. Patrick's was packed for the Sunday morning service, since it was Easter . Although we arrived early, our normal seats were taken, so we sat up front, on the right side of the church. When it was time to take communion, I opened up the hymnal and was delighted to see the hymn to be sung during communion was one of my favorites - #355 - "I Am the Bread of Life." As the congregation began singing, Jude whispered to me that she wanted to go through the communion line on the left, as we normally do, so Father Eric Fowlkes would give us communion.

We walked to the back of the church, got in the communion line on the left, and began making our way, slowly, to the front of the church. As we did so, several people who were sitting down and waiting to take communion, looked up at Jude and smiled as we walked by them. I could literally feel their warmth and kindness as they beamed up at her.

Jude always walks immediately in front of me to take communion, so she reached Father Eric first. As the congregation continued to sing the hymn I love so much, Father Eric smiled at Jude and quietly gave her a special blessing, asking that God keep her safe. It was, to me, a very poignant moment. I had tears in my eyes when I received Holy Communion, then followed Jude back to our seats, where we knelt in prayer.

One Last Baby Shower

I've got to say a word or two about the baby shower our ultimate frisbee friends from Nashville hosted for us, last Sunday. It was the final baby shower on our dance card and we were really looking forward to sharing this experience with them.

It's hard, even for me, to put into words how special this group of people is to Jude and me. Jude began playing ultimate frisbee ("ultimate") in 1996, just as she graduated from law school. When Jude and I started dating in 1998, she was well entrenched in the "ultimate community," practicing and playing with Flo (the Nashville women's team) and traveling to out-of-town tournaments (Birmingham, AL, Savannah, GA, Chattanooga, TN, Lexington, KY, Versailles, OH, etc.). She invited me to play ultimate on her team in the co-ed summer league in 1998, which I did.

I've played a lot of sports in my life and consider myself to be a decent athlete, but I had absolutely no idea how to play ultimate when I started playing that summer. I mean, I was lost. However, I was determined to learn to play the game, because I could tell what an important part of Jude's life it was. I hoped it would bring us closer together, and it did.

The ultimate community, in Nashville as in most places, is a close knit group of people. At that time (1998-99) a large part of Jude's social life involved people who played ultimate in Nashville. What amazed me then and still amazes me now is how open and accepting this group of people was (and is). I will be eternally grateful for the way they took me in, no questions asked, and incorporated me into the fabric of the community. The people with whom I played ultimate, many of whom have moved out of town, retired from playing or just drifted away will always have a special place in my heart.

Some of the fondest memories I have of the early days of my relationship with Jude involve Halloween and Christmas parties with our ultimate friends, traveling to tournaments and camping in tents and, yes, even the trip to Cincinnati for the tournament where Jude broke her leg. As I learned to play the game, I came to love the competition, the camaraderie and, most importantly, the chance to share those things with Jude. Together, we played for several years, until I "retired" in 2005. Jude hasn't played competitively for a year or so, although she did play in the co-ed summer league last year.

Here's a link, if you're interested or want to learn more about ultimate frisbee, to the Ultimate Players Associate website - http://www.upa.org/.

That brings us to last Sunday. Nancy Schelin, Nancy's boyfriend, Paul Sexton (yes, Nancy, BOYFRIEND), Carrie Plummer and Kelli McAbee hosted a baby shower at Paul's house. We played a couple of fun games, one of which involved trying to avoid saying the word "baby." Upon arriving at the baby shower, each attendee was given a necklace with a tiny, plastic baby bottle on it. If, in conversation with someone else, you said the word "baby," you had to give the necklace to the person with whom you were talking. The person with the most necklaces at the end of the afternoon won a prize. It was hilarious, as the more devious partygoers (like me) tried to trick others into saying the word "baby."

The decorations were great, as Paul's house was festooned with copies of a baby's face he and Nancy had created, somehow, on his computer. There were disembodied baby faces stuck all over the inside of the house, not to mention on his mailbox. Strange and unsettling, maybe, but very, very funny and creative. Kelli baked an amazing cake, which was almost too pretty to eat. In one room, there was a large sheet of paper on the wall, with instructions to write on it possible names for our baby. Jude's favorite was "Phude," while I preferred "Halward."

It was a wonderful afternoon and we had a great time.

What's Up, Doc?

Today, Jude and I had a scheduled appointment with her doctor. As of last week, we have weekly appointments. We'll see the doctor again on Monday, a week from today.

As was the case at last week's visit, the doctor "checked under the hood" (my words, obviously, not Jude's) to see how things are coming along. Not to get too graphic, but Jude's cervix is not dilated at all yet and is somewhat posterior. Still, she could go into labor at any time, but would probably be facing a long and difficult labor, unless her cervix begins to dilate in the new week or so. The important thing, though, is everything looks and sounds fine. The doctor found the heartbeat quickly, measured Jude's stomach (again confirming we're looking at a big baby, come delivery day) and confirmed she's doing great.

We had a fairly detailed discussion about whether to do the planned C-section on March 28 (the date on which it's currently scheduled) or April 2, the date we originally selected and for which we are currently on the waiting list. Keeping in mind that our original due date was April 7, 2008, the March 28 date would put Jude at about 38 1/2 weeks and the April 2 date would put her at a little more than 39 weeks. Right now, we're leaning toward March 28 for the planned C-section, even if April 2 should magically become available, which I don't think will happen.

Now, if Jude should go into labor before March 28, all bets are off. At that point, the plan is to see how she feels and monitor how labor progresses, before making a decision on whether to go ahead with a C-section. Personally, I don't see her going into labor early. What do I know, though? I'm just trying to win the Oscar for Best Supporting Husband.

Rockin' and Rollin'

One thing Jude and I have noticed is that, in church, when the congregation is singing a hymn, the baby really moves around a lot.

At our church, St. Patrick's, we have small choir that's actually positioned on a second floor balcony behind the the congregation. The organist is up there, as well. This morning, Palm Sunday, as we all stood and sang a hymn, Jude nudged me and pointed to her stomach. Her blouse was literally rippling, as the baby moved around inside her. It was wild! This kid loves music.

It's a Small World After All

Today, Jude took the day off from work. Late this afternoon, she "interviewed" a pediatrician at Green Hills Pediatric Associates to whom we had been referred. I couldn't get away from work, so she flew solo and met with the pediatrician herself.

Tonight, when I got home from work, she told me about the interview. She liked the doctor, enjoyed talking with him and was impressed with the office. When she told me she had learned the practice had been started many years ago by a couple of doctors who had recently retired, I asked her if one of the retired doctors' names was Lentz. It was.

Dr. Lentz was my pediatrician, in the early 1970s, when my family moved back to middle Tennessee from California. And, after the interview today, we're going to have as our son's pediatrician a doctor who works in the practice started by Dr. Lentz many years ago. A small world indeed.

Naming Rights

Three weeks ago, when I met Jude at our doctor's office for an appointment, I greeted her in the waiting room with wonderful news - I had decided on the perfect name for our baby - "Virgil." After immediately saying, "uh, no," she inquired, not for the first time, "where do you come up with these names?" Where, indeed?

Actually, as I was waiting on the elevator in the lobby of the building in which our doctor's office is located, I had seen a plaque on a wall that had the names of hospital board members at the time the building was constructed. One of the board members was named "Virgil," and his name was on the plaque. Thus, a brilliant idea was born (pun intended) - "Virgil Newman."

After I explained the origin of the name to Jude, she made an interesting and rather astute observation. As a rule, there is a direct correlation between what I'm doing and the origin of a particular idea for a name. When we're at a hockey game, I suggest "Jean Pierre," "Marek," etc. When I'm listening to music, I suggest "Bruce" (Springsteen) or "Tom" or "Petty" (Tom Petty).

That's a pretty good theory, though it doesn't explain my affinity for "Percival," "Beauregard," or "Jed."

Here's link to an article from the New York Times that I'm using to bolster my argument in support of some of the more unusual names I have suggested. Check it out.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/11/science/11tier.html?em&ex=1205380800&en=ed5eac5a9b454406&ei=5087%0A

Weekend Update

Friday, Jude returned to work at Renewal House after being out on Thursday for Leadership Nashville. One of her staff advised her that she and another staff member had been talking and decided it would be a good idea to have a "disaster plan," in case Jude goes into labor at work. I mean, a "disaster plan!" According to Jude, she suggested to her staff that if she goes into labor at work, it might qualify as a "surprise," but certainly not a "disaster."

Saturday evening, we attended a couples' baby shower at Elena and Robert Rollins' house, hosted by the Rollins and our friends, Lela Hollabaugh and Dean Shumate. We had a fantastic time and really enjoyed celebrating with many of our friends. Great food, lots of laughs, generous gifts and a wonderful evening.

Today, at church (St. Patrick's Catholic Church), as we were singing a hymn, the baby was moving like crazy. Jude tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to her stomach. I could see her shirt moving, as the baby rolled around inside her stomach. It was crazy! Afterward the service ended, a couple of ladies stopped us and asked when Jude was due and wished us well. Then, as we walked out the front door, we stopped to speak with Father Eric Fowlkes. He asked when we are due, then gave us a blessing on the front steps the of the church. To me, it was an amazing, poignant moment, one I will cherish for years to come.

Counting Down the Days . . .

This afternoon, my good friend and erstwhile paralegal, Tracie Carter, called me at work. She's the best. On more than one occasion during Jude's pregnancy, Tracy has given me really good, practical advice that calms me down and helps me realize I am ready to be a parent. Well, today wasn't one of those occasions.

Today, Tracie, laughing hysterically, said, "do you realize you're going to be a father in three weeks?!? Right after she said that (and while she continued laughing), I thought, "oh sh*t, she's right!" I mean, of course I know, theoretically, that Jude and I are going to be parents by the end of the month. What hit home like a ton of bricks, though, is that there's nothing conceptual or theoretical about it, at this point. We are flat out going to be bringing a brand new baby into our home in less than 30 days! (Deep breath here. Actually, several deep breaths here.).

As I told Tracie Carter and later Jude, right now I feel like I'm in the first car of a roller coaster, with all the cars jerking and shuddering as we approach the top of the biggest hill on the track. Lots of people I know are in the cars behind me, talking and laughing, but I'm going to be the first one over the hill. I'm looking over the front edge of the car and there's a 1000 foot vertical drop, straight down. My stomach is churning and I'm about to scream at the top of my lungs. Deep down, I know everything is going to be all right, but I'm still terrified.

That's how I feel, right about now.

Saturday in the Park

Yesterday, I went for a morning run on the trails in Shelby Park. It was a gorgeous day, bright blue sky with the temperature around 50 degrees. I've been injured (plantar fascitis) and couldn't run for about six weeks, which almost killed me. One thing for sure, though, being hurt made me appreciate how much I really enjoy getting outside and going for a run. It's a simple act that brings such pleasure to my life.

Anyway, when I got to the park, I realized I didn't have my Ipod (I always run with it on and listen to podcasts, music, etc.). Since I was already there, I went ahead and ran five miles, alone with my thoughts and accompanied by the sounds of the park on a Saturday morning (boats on the Cumberland River, birds singing - a lot of birds, dogs barking and children laughing). For me, it's almost a form of meditation, when I run without my Ipod. My mind wanders as I fall into the rhythm of the pounding of my shoes on the trail.

I started thinking about Jude, the baby, and how very, very fortunate and blessed I am. I was thinking about all the things, new and wonderful things, I love about Jude being pregnant. I realize, of course, that my perspective is vastly different from hers. Still, there are little things I really enjoy and will miss after she has the baby.

At church on Sunday mornings, Jude often turns sideways in the pew, puts her feet up and leans her back against my side for support. I really love that.

Jude counts on me to do more around the house and I try to oblige her, because there are things that are just hard for her to do (bending down the feed the cats, lifting objects, etc.). I feel needed, which is nice, given that under normal circumstances, Jude's not one to often ask for help. I know I don't do enough, but I try.

Sometimes, when we're in bed at night, before we go to sleep, Jude will remark that the baby is really moving. She'll take my hand and place it on her stomach, then I'll feel our baby moving around inside of her. It's such an intimate moment and a thrill each and every time.

At night, I love to hear the sound of Jude's breathing, as she turns over on her side and falls asleep, after she's arranged all of the pillows in the bed to make her as comfortable as possible (which gets more and more difficult every day). I love it when she stirs at night in her sleep, trying to get comfortable.

I love to tell friends, acquaintances, even complete strangers that Jude and I are expecting our first child in less than a month. It never ceases to amaze me, but it's good for a smile every time, from whomever I'm speaking with - seriously. People are just so happy to hear the news and to talk with me about it.

At our doctor's appointments, I love it when the nurse puts Jude on the fetal heart monitor and I hear the baby's heartbeat. It's an amazing and oddly comforting sound.

I could go on and on, but it's getting late, tomorrow's Monday, and I need to get to bed.