My Current Book Lusts... Truth is Stranger Than Fiction

Most of my friends who are going to have kids, already have at least one, but there are a few stragglers out there who might benefit from my unfettered addiction to buying books pertaining to whatever topic I happen to be currently passionate about, which right now is of course baby related. Oh, and baking, but that's another post. So, here are my Top 10 Baby Books that pretty much cover the range of everything you need to know (and then some) about what you've really gotten yourself into. Good luck!


If You Only Buy One Pregnancy/Baby Book: "Pregnancy, Childbirth and the Newborn- the Complete Guide" by Penny Simkin, Janet Whalley and Ann Keppler. Very comprehensive and accessible book that's not full of fear mongering and tells you everything you need to know without needlessly freaking you out. Unlike "What to Expect When You're Expecting" which is condescending and full of info that will cause many pending Moms to lose much needed sleep and bombard their health care providers with panic-induced questions and phone calls. My friends who are OB/GYNs have asked me to ask you to not read that book.  Or to take any advice from strangers on an on-line forum or phone app. Thank you.

If You Are Lazy and/or Buying a Baby Book for the Dad: "Baby 411" by Denise Fields and Ari Brown, M.D. This was given to us by my husband's cousin who is a new mom and an OB/GYN. Great quick reference guide, easy read, great question and answer format. Good guy book, only thing that would make it better is if it had cartoons and was scented with bacon.

If You Have Any Concerns About Your Relationship With Your Partner Post Baby: "And Baby Makes Three" by John M. Gottman and Julie Schwartz Gottman. A comprehensive strategy for making sure you stay connected with your partner and how to rekindle romance post baby arrival. I've worked with the Gottman's and have been a fan of their science-based approach to relationships and communication for years. There is a course offered by many hospitals called Bringing Baby Home based on this book. Also a valuable tool. They say 65% of couples experience serious decline in their marital happiness once the baby is born, this book will help you to be prepared in case that's you.

If You Have No Concerns About Your Relationship With Your Partner Post Baby: You should still read "And Baby Makes Three" because you never know and it's best to have these tools to use just in case. I feel we've been in the 35% of still happy couples (that's largely due to luck and having a baby who eats, sleeps, and poops without too much of a mess, screaming fit, or health problems), but the info in this book is still very helpful and has done a lot to keep us sane and happy and talking to each other without clenched jaws or wanting to chuck a dirty diaper at their head.

If You Have (or Need) a Sense of Humor About It All: "The Three-Martini Playdate- A Practial Guide to Happy Parenting" by Christie Mellor. While much should be taken very tongue-in-cheek, (such as "Our Little Tot's First Martini Recipe"), most of it is really a much needed rational breath of fresh air (such as "a child who has never been given chores to do is a child who grows up with a skewed sense of entitlement.). See also her follow up hit- "The Three-Martini Family Vacation: A Field Guide to Intrepid Parenting."

If You Are Already Placing Bottles of Purelle Around the House and Locks on Toilet Lids in Your First Trimester: "How to Have Your Second Child First- 100 Things That Are Good to Know... the First Time Around" by Kerry Colburn & Rob Sorensen. Sit down, have a glass of wine (Gasp! Yes, really, you can do it while pregnant), and read this book with your partner. It's hard to pick a favorite tip... from "you don't have to interact with your baby ALL of the time" to "let your partner do it their way" this book is full of good advice and good reminders for all parents, high strung and not. If you are already making spread sheets and think a baby helmet is a good idea for general around-the-house attire, you should be required by law to read this. For your child's well-being as well as your own and that of everyone around you.

If You Will Be Having a Baby, Ever, and Have Boobs: "Ina May's Guide to Breastfeeding" by Ina May Gaskin. I actually haven't read this book, but it has been highly recommended by many friends who have struggled with issues with breastfeeding, I just went directly to a lactation consultant as I was too tired to read a book when I started having problems on day 11. I can't say enough good things about breastfeeding, even after dealing with "rug burned nipples" and latch problems, it's hands down the most special time I spend with my daughter. Oh, and just so you know, even if you don't breastfeed, the term "perky" will still never describe your boobs again without surgery. The good news is no one but you and your husband will know, and after not being allowed near them for awhile he won't care, he'll just be happy to have access again. Good excuse to buy that La Perla bra you've always wanted!

If You Are Not Obnoxiously Rich: "Baby Bargains" is for you. By the same people who do "Baby 411" (also "Expecting 411" and "Toddler 411"), I believe they have a guarantee to save you at least $250 or your money back. Full of very useful advice on what you really need, and what is just preying on new parents fears crap (hint: a wipe warmer is something every child can survive just fine without). Start with this book and by chucking the Baby's R Us "must have" registry list and you'll be good to go.

If You Won't be Having a Full Time Nanny: "Happiest Baby on the Block" by Dr. Harvey Karp. The "Five S's" on how to soothe a crying baby saved our sanity during the first few months. It's worth it just for that. There is also a DVD if you're all read out. Great for Dad to watch, will help him feel so much more empowered to deal with their tiny crying offspring. Men really like to be able to "fix" things, and this book/DVD helps them do that.

If You Have No Idea What to Do With Your Baby Aside From Singing Obnoxious Songs and Dressing Them in Cute Things: "Baby Smarts" by Jackie Silberg. A short little book with easy references to let you know what physical and cognitive skills your child is developing and what you can do to encourage them. It's really quite facinating to see how they figure stuff out when you know what to look for. Also helps you to be less anxious and frustrated with a cranky or crying baby when you know they're just working hard at figuring something out, and not colic or just being a general, undiagnosed pain in the ass.

BONUS: If You're a Science Nerd Like Me and/or Think It's Never to Early to Start Prepping for Harvard: "Brain Rules For Baby" by Dr. John Medina. It's a very interesting read on how a baby's brain develops and what their cognitive skills are like at each age. A good read, not too dry or scientific as to be inaccessible for weary parents to be. Amusing stories illustrate various developmental steps and keep it entertaining... my 92 year old Grandfather picked it up to read while he was visiting and enjoyed it when he wasn't watching Jeopardy.

A Horse is a Horse, Of Course.

I think a lot of us wondered what it would be like to be a parent. I know I sure did, especially during the times when I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be one. How could I be sure that it would be worth it? There’s no legal/socially acceptable way to back out of it if it doesn’t work out for you. Now that I am a parent, I think I’ve figured out a way to describe it and maybe help those without kids to understand what all the hoopla is about.

If you’ve been lucky, you may have had a pet or an encounter with an animal that you were able to form a special bond with. I’m not talking guinea pig or garter snake found in the yard here. Something a bit higher on the IQ scale. Perhaps it was a pet dog that you raised from a puppy, or a wild deer that you got to eat out of your hand. For me it was a horse named Turk.

I was working on a film that was shooting on a small suburban farm one day. There were two horses in a barn next to where we were filming that needed to be calmed down as they were freaking out. One was an ancient, sway backed nag, the other a young and antsy stallion. I was dubbed horse wrangler for the day after getting the nag to calm down by stroking and talking to her. One of the farm hands showed up and took over for her so I moved over to Turk. He was a bit high strung and mouthy. Not to mention big. I have a bit of experience around horses, but was not by any means comfortable around unknown energetic animals who liked to nibble on you. Yet for some reason, Turk and I clicked.

Turk stood in his stall with his head out as he and the nag had to be able to see each other in order to stay calm. I stood in front facing him with his head over my shoulder, stroking his neck and scratching his ears for several hours. Not often do you get the chance to just be a source of comfort for an animal like that without asking anything in return. No grooming, no saddling, no riding. Just talking, stroking, soothing.

At one point my arms got tired and someone needed to talk to me so I turned around, with Turk’s head still over my shoulder. He apparently got miffed that I’d stopped paying attention to him and nipped my shoulder. I promptly turned around and grabbed his bottom lip and let him know in no uncertain terms that was not OK. I then turned back to continue my conversation. He started nuzzling my shoulder, kind of hard, almost but not quite nibbling. It actually felt pretty good as my shoulders were sore from holding my arms over my head for the last several hours. Jokingly, I leaned into it and told him that felt good, and then I pointed to my other shoulder and asked if he could get that side as well. Amazingly enough, he did! Where ever I pointed to, he would nuzzle/nibble/massage! The person I was talking to when this happened couldn’t believe it! What an unexpected way to be repaid for all the stroking and scratching I’d been doing for him.

At one point I had to leave to run some errands and wasn’t expecting to make it back by the time we wrapped, and since it was the last day there I wouldn’t see Turk anymore, which made me rather sad. Well, as luck would have it I was needed back on set so I cut my errands short and returned. One of the reasons they needed me back was because Turk was being feisty and wouldn’t calm down for anyone else. They said he got upset as soon as I left and calmed down as soon as he saw me again. He was whinnying as I approached and started nuzzling me as I scratched his ears. I was so touched, everyone likes to feel needed, even if it was by a horse I’d just met.

Making a connection with an animal like that, one that is intelligent and capable of showing affection and had a distinct personality, was an amazing and awesome feeling. To be needed by another creature for comfort and affection in a way that no one else seemed able to give, it’s a lot like what it feels like to be a mom. My daughter is this little creature who is still a mystery to me in many ways because of how much she is changing every day. While she is great with other people and is a pretty calm and mellow baby the vast majority of the time, sometimes she is just fussy or upset, and it seems I’m the only one who can calm her. When she nuzzles into my neck as I rock her to sleep, it makes my day because I know I am the only person on earth who can fulfill her specific needs at that moment, and I'm doing it well! Don’t get me wrong, her Dad is fantastic and will no doubt fulfill needs that I can’t as she gets older and has more of them (like indulge her "need" for a Porsche or her "need" to go camping with her boyfriend). But for now, when I go to pick her up and her face lights up and her arms and legs go crazy waving around and her cries stop immediately, I know that it’s me, and no other, who can calm and comfort her best right now. That equally awesome feeling and responsibility is what makes everything else, the erratic sleep, the body changes, the loss of some personal freedom, even the disgusting diaper explosions… so very worth it.  

Lucky, Lucky Me

I have been bitching about a lot of things on this blog and I wanted to switch things up for a bit and rave about how lucky and extraordinarily blessed I am to have the husband I have. Especially now, at my most vulnerable, awkward, irritable, and (potentially for some men) the most unattractive phase of my life, he is a serious daddy-to-be-stud.

When I read blogs and books from other women talking about their experiences being pregnant, I am often horrified by the way the men in their lives treat them. One got offended and accused his wife of farting on purpose around him (when you have a little spawn sitting on your digestive tract and randomly kicking it, this is truly not something you can always have a lot of control over). Mine just laughs and blames the dog, regardless of what other room he may be in. Many are completely helpless (and unwilling to try) when it came to anything related to food preparation that didn't involve first picking up a phone. Mine is a better cook than I am. Some gave them a hard time for breast feeding as they didn't want to "share" what they felt was theirs. Others were grossed out by the entire ordeal, refused to learn anything about it, and left the details and all up to her. Mine was trained as an EMT, has no weird body issues, and may in fact be more comfortable with the birthing process than I am (which might be easier to do since he's not expected to squeeze an 8lb parasite out of his penis any time soon).

Wow. Of course, I highly doubt that the rest of their relationships were a bed of roses, but it seems that pregnancy brought out the worst in them. I think my pregnancy has brought out the best in mine. He is even more considerate and patient than usual (though isn't afraid to laugh at me when I struggle to bend over and pick something up), very empathetic when I need to vent about my various aches and symptoms (with foot rubs virtually on demand), supportive in reading the books I suggest (well, he's working on that part), attending the classes I've signed us up for, and is constantly worshiping my belly and telling me how beautiful and sexy he thinks I am. He's indulged me in my furniture refinishing ideas, nursery preferences, and ranting about bad parenting stories I read about with nary an eye roll or sarcastic comment. I'd like to think that my lack of dramatic mood-swings/freak outs and 2:00am cravings for mango chutney and doughnuts that he MUST GO GET NOW OR DIE because YOU DID THIS TO ME YOU ASS, AGHHHH!!! might have made his job easier... but even if I'd turned into ranting psycho pregnant chick (I still have 9 weeks!) I think he'd still take it all in stride.

Oh, and don't get the idea that he's a doormat. Not at all. If I suggested we should seriously look into baby helmets, bubble wrapping the furniture, spraying down all potential guests with Lysol, or some other such whack-a-doo idea, he'd speak up in a hurry. He's just good at picking his battles and (seemingly) believes that I'll wind up in the moderate center on my own once I back away from the web for awhile.

While part of me would like him to be a little more freaked out about this life-changing project we're taking on like I am, most of me cherishes how grounded and unflappable he is as it makes a good anchor for me to cling to after reading another article about the "792 Things In Your House That Could Kill or Seriously Maim Your Child In Under Two Minutes, While You Sleep!"

If he's half as good of a father as he's been a husband through out this process (and I know that won't be the case!), then our daughter will be one lucky girl too. Lucky, lucky both of us.

My Lovely Lady Lumps

My Eyes Are Up HERE!!!

 I have had an unusual relationship with my breasts. We've run the gamut, them and I, in a way I think most of my friends haven't. (Dad, if you haven't already, you might want to stop reading now. None of this is top secret stuff, no surgeries, tattoos, or piercings but really, how much do you want to know about your daughter's boobs?)

When I was about 13, I started getting a little concerned. My best friend was all ready well endowed in 7th grade, and I had (of course) nothing. Not unusual for a 13 year old white girl. However, my Mother told me many times that I shouldn't expect to get breasts until (if ever) I got pregnant, as that's what happened to her. So, I was resigned to being flat chested... although that didn't stop me from experimenting with stuffing my bra, duct tape, and the miracles that a Wonder Bra could provide. I gave up on the stuffing quickly though when, after carefully placing two cotton balls in each cup of my training bra before a co-ed dance in 7th grade, a boy I was dancing with gave me an "accidental" boob graze and I was positive he could tell what I'd done. Yeah, right, because 13 year old boys have so much experience with that type of thing. For all I know, he still thinks back fondly to the first time he "copped a feel." Ha!

I turned 16, still nothing much. I had nick-named them (ironically it turns out) Itsy and Bitsy. My best friend was now a D+, and a couple others were gaining fast. We joked about getting a transfusion after graduation so that we'd wind up somewhere that would make us both happy. We were only half joking.

I moved to Seattle and TA-DA! The boob fairy came! Yea! She wasn't especially generous, but at least it was something. I went down and visited friends in LA at age 17 and at least got guys to talk to my chest instead of my eyes for a change, so that was nice. I wound up with a 34B and was pretty happy with things. Still passed the pencil test, found bras in regular stores that fit, had cleavage, and could get away with wearing something backless without a bra. I liked my breasts, they were the perfect size for my frame. Not to brag, but  in my late 20s I dated a guy who, how do I put this, had worked with many lovely women who were often semi/mostly nude for professional reasons, and he told me quite honestly and without provocation that I had the best rack he'd ever seen. I thought that was quite the compliment!

Then, the Boob Fairy came again. And again. And again. Between the ages of 31-35, I went up two cup sizes. I'd also put on about 20lbs, but it seemed most of that was on my chest! So now, button up shirts wouldn't stay buttoned up and were in danger of sending a button flying off into someone's eye, bras were a requirement, men (and even some women) were much more easily distracted around me, excavating was required when laying face down at the beach, an exercise class without a sports bra was a painful, distracting, and nearly revealing mistake, and I was now the girl among my friends who had big boobs! How the hell did that happen?!!? I really just couldn't see that for quite awhile, I was still so caught up with my image of Itsy and Bitsy and just being thankful of my 34B... but 34D?!!? That's crazy talk! There must be a mistake, like how a size 6 is the new size 2. It's vanity bra sizing, right? Alas, no.

The thing is, I never wanted to have big boobs. I saw how my friends with big chests were treated by others, and how they saw themselves as a result. We couldn't shop at the same stores, because tops for teens weren't made to stretch that far. Adult men treated them like adults because all they saw were adult sized boobs and their eyes never made it that far north to see that they were still kids. The beach was a hassle, between bathing suit fiascos, excavating to lie down, and more unwanted attention. Their boyfriends were often obsessed with them to an annoying degree. They had unhealthy self-images and unhealthy relationships with men as a result. I was just fine with my second letter of the alphabet, thankyouverymuch.

So, now I'm pregnant, and here we go again. The Boob Fairy has earned enough frequent flier miles coming to our house to get her a trip to Europe, first class. And the fun is just starting! They say you can go up as much as TWO additional cup sizes once your milk comes in. I think I might refuse to admit to being an E (if things go that far) and just refer to it as DDD. I know things will go back down again (hopefully!!), and I might even be back to a 34B again, but it won't be the same. I do plan on breastfeeding, 6+ months, and that just takes a toll on things. As a trade off though, I will hopefully have a happier, healthier baby and have shared an amazing bonding experience with her in the mean time. I suppose failing the pencil test will be worth that. (Sigh) If I can keep my chest point average above a 2.0/C, I'll be content.

Itsy and Bitsy my ass.

And Now For Something Completely Different...

If I could take a brief break here from my usual sarcastic, dark humor, I wanted to talk about something serious. Regularly scheduled programming will resume soon.

Recently, right before the holidays, a friend of mine had tragedy strike. Her step-mother was 2 weeks from full term and one day wasn't feeling her baby daughter move any more. A quick trip to the hospital revealed that the baby had passed, and was delivered still-born.

My friend was reluctant to tell me this news, not wanting to upset me given my current condition. While I appreciate her consideration, I'm glad she did. Not only so I can offer her condolences and sympathize, but because it has made me appreciate every kick, jab, and wriggle that much more. It hasn't gotten painful yet, but when she starts in on my ribs or various organs, I'll grin and bear it that much easier just being glad that she's moving around in the first place.

It also inspired a conversation with my husband about what we'd do if something like that were to happen to us. I've read about an organization (that hopefully you, or I, or anyone we know will never have to use) that has photographers who volunteer to take photos of stillborn babies for the family to remember them by. If you need a good cry or are feeling too optimistic today, you can visit their site here: Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep. I would want this. I would always have the option to not look at the photos, but never to take them again.

She wasn't sure if it would be "OK" to tell other pregnant women about what happened. I told her I think it depends on the woman. I appreciated knowing, but wish that they knew WHY it happened. Knowing why gives us a feeling of empowerment over the situation, however realistic it may or may not be. A close friend recently lost his three month old nephew to SIDS. Tragic, certainly. However, it sounds like the baby was put down in his parents bed (for various reasons), not his crib, and the extra bedding and softer mattress may have been a factor. Even if it wasn't, at least we can say "We'll never do THAT!" and feel better about our chances of avoiding a similar fate.

I had a friend (Tyler) in high school die from sleep apnea, which some think is just a more adult version of SIDS. One day he was here, the next he wasn't. If there was ever perfect timing for something that tragic to happen, he had it. The day before my Drama class (of which he was a part of) had a day long field trip to a local school to teach improv and perform. We were all good friends and several of us were especially close with Ty. I (after this sudden and unexplainable urge) had brought my camera and documented the day, including lunch at Crossroads Mall afterward. I seem to remember we then wound up at someone's house and watched movies and played pool. It was a great day spent with a bunch of great friends. Any other day would have been just another school day or weekend where we wouldn't have spent nearly as much time together, or had as many reasons to take photos. The next day, he was gone.

That was a rough way to deal with mortality at 17, and there was nothing and no one to be mad at. No drunk driver, no cautionary tale about drugs. Just... sleeping. However, in retrospect, there were some warning signs, mainly that he snored like a truck driver and when teased asked "have you ever woken up and realized that you haven't been breathing for awhile?" Yikes! We certainly wished we'd taken that more seriously, but what teen thinks they're that vulnerable, especially in regards to... terminal snoring?

So since then I've encouraged, nagged, begged and frightened several friends and family members (and even some total strangers) to go get tested. Several of them either had surgery and/or sleep with a machine now, and it's transformed and even possibly saved their lives. That's the silver lining I take out of all of this. So, here's my PSA... put your babies to sleep on their backs on an approved crib mattress, with no pillows, blankets, stuffed animals, bumpers or other things that can get near their faces, and if you know someone who snores like an angry, drunk bear, and/or stops breathing while sleeping or wakes up coughing/choking... they need to be checked. Their friends and loved ones will thank them, and so will Tyler and my friends' nephew and sister.

Peace and love to you all. ~S

Congratulations! It's a.... Freak!

How about breast feeding this one?!!?

So, we had our second trimester ultrasound on November 1st, and aside from checking the regular stuff (heart, lung, size, weight development), we also got to check out Spawn's junk... or in our case, the lack thereof. If you can't tell by the demon baby all dressed in pink in the photo, it turns out Spawn is a girl! It's funny, we were hoping for a boy, but both felt that it was a girl. Bring on the pink... ugh.

We were hoping for a boy because we both find that boy type toys are more fun to play with, however I had "boy" type toys growing up, so perhaps that will work for our daughter too. No Barbie dolls for me, I preferred my microscope, erector set, Leggos and climbing trees. I did however like to play dress up and "make over" (not hard to believe for everyone who's ever met me I suppose) so I wasn't a total tomboy. One of the neighbor girls I used to practice on was in Playboy (the brunette), which I take total credit for, even if the last time I saw her she was six and we had to use tennis balls to fill out her bathing suit.

I also HATE the color pink. I hate the image it represents, a girly girl, all demure and subservient, princess like and helpless, just sitting around doing her nails and hair and waiting for a man to come and rescue her from herself. A girl who wears pink wouldn't be thought to know how to change her own tire or carry a Swiss Army knife or know how to use a compound miter saw. I know this is just a stereotype, but images can have power, and how we present ourselves to others colors their perception of us and how they treat us, and in return how we think of ourselves.

Why does it seem that most baby related stuff is either pink or blue? I mean everything... from bottles, to pads you kneel on by the tub to bathe them, to bedding, even little tickers you can post on your website to do a countdown to "Eviction Day" are themed either blue or pink with icons of teddy bears, balloons, flowers or a Smith & Wesson Model 29 .44 cal magnum revolver (ha! Kidding about the last one... I hope). What's wrong with earth tones?!!? Is it really so important to impose a rigid gender identity on your child before it's even born?

I have found more neutral toned baby items than I thought I would. I was afraid I'd be relegated to either pink/blue pastels or neon bright primary colors unless we shopped in expensive European stores. Even BabiesRUs had some things that didn't make me cringe at the thought of having in my home (of course I'm not talking about the children who were running amok through the store like it was a Chuck E Cheese during free double shot espresso hour). I actually rather like this Zen collection and hope it's not crap that just looks good.

So, now I have to get used to the idea of having a girl. I hear they're easier on the house and such in the beginning at least, but of course make up for that when they're teens. I was a rather stubborn pain in the ass as a kid, but at least I didn't do drugs or drink (much) or get tattoos or the like. Brooke, of course, was an angel and left all the rebelling to his older brother. We'll see who our daughter turns out more like. She'll still grow up knowing some basic car maintenance, how to use power tools, get chocolate out of a cashmere sweater, the proper way to address a thank-you card, ballroom dancing, and basic self defense moves.

I don't really get people who don't want to know the gender. Especially first time ones. I figure that parenthood provides enough surprises that we'll take all the advantages we can get! Besides, it makes it a lot easier to bond with the kick-boxer in my belly... I see other little girls and imagine my own, I can picture her in neat little dresses and start putting her nursery together in a slightly more girly fashion, as in French influence over Italian if it was a boy. I've already started collecting hats. :-)

By the way, no, we haven't decided on a name. Most likely Dee for the middle name, that's my middle name and my paternal Grandfather's middle name, whom I've never met as he died before I was born. Other than that... I like names that are flexible and not a pain in the ass to spell. Like Elizabeth... she can decide she's a Beth, or Lizzie, or Liz, or Liza when she gets older. I really dislike names like Jessyca or Sandi (not just because that last one is my ex MIL's name) because no one will ever spell it right, she'll never find her name on a hat at Disneyland or license plate for her bike, and I think it's just plain mean to brand your child with a name that says "I'm trying to be unique by spelling my name like a stripper would, but really I'm just a high-maintenance pain in the ass with unimaginative parents." Take this with several grains of salt, as I am aware that I have several friends with uniquely spelled names, and/or possibly children with the same affliction. I'm just really bad at remembering names and weird ones really throw me off, so this is how I've reasoned it's their fault and not mine. :-)

Oh, and the final bit of ultrasound news is that she apparently has not suffered from my lack of proper nutrition during the first few months, as she's in the 100th percentile for size right now. Average for this point is 12.5 ounces, and she's 16! That's only about a week ahead in growth, but still, not on track for a baby with a small head we were hoping for. Means we get another ultrasound in the third trimester to make sure she'll fit out the way nature intended, preferably without splitting me in two in the process. So far it's baby 2, us zero. I suppose we should get used to that!

One final serious note... her arms are a teeny, tiny bit short. Per whatever scale they use, normal is .90 and she's .88. Nothing to worry about or warrant further testing, but could possibly be an indicator of Down's. The odds are 1 in about 5,000, and nothing else (blood tests, heart, neck measurements, leg length, etc) indicates a problem. An amniocentesis would give us more info, but then the odds are 1 in 100 of miscarrying (a likely healthy baby) from it. Not worth the odds. So, for now we'll cross our fingers and hope it's just a weird mix of my Scottish/Irish genes and Brooke's Scandinavian ones. Hopefully she's got my Hodge chin and thick skull and Brooke's pretty jade green eyes to go along with her stumpy arms. Brooke has suggested changing her nick name from Spawn to T-Rex, but I told him that's totally inappropriate. T-Rex is a boy's name. Maybe we'll call her She-Rex instead. A bit nicer than "Stumpy," don't you think?