I’ve been open about the pregnancy… I’ve blog-posted here, twittered and updated my Facebook status in reference to events. Today was a milestone.

The ultrasound was at 10:30. This was all driven by the techs, with our MD doing a follow-up visit just a half-hour afterward. Cheri’s been nervous about this, and I don’t blame her. I think I choose not to worry about anything until there is something to worry about; I kept that attitude until we entered the clinic and, bam, we went right into the ultrasound room. The techs were understandably poker-faced during the session. Added to that, this visit was handled by the tech-in-training, who whispered back and forth with her lead instructor. This was stressful for Cheri and I. I have no knowledge of what makes a “good” ultrasound visit, but I do know what it means to instruct interns and students, so I relaxed after a while. At the end, we were informed everything looked normal. Our baby continues to move around a lot, just as she did during the first sonogram, now so many weeks ago.

And, of course, we were open to the inforamtion that we are having a girl. Cheri and I decided a while back we have no desire to wait on this information. My logic is simple: the baby has fingers, toes, a spine, so it goes without saying we want to know the sex as well. It adds to the comfort of knowing who our child is.

I took the whole day off, and so now we are at home, getting ready to take a dip in the pool.

… I’m not going to miss covering a pager. Like, at all. Cheri agrees. I’ve been doing this for six years. I figure, I’m approaching 40, which I’ve declared is the Watershed Year. I haven’t determined yet why 40 is going to be important. I’ve just decided it is.

I disclosed early to a co-worker we were expecting. That was, oh, at week six? I had no grand scheme for announcing things at work. I suspect this is due to two things. As a man, the notion of a life-changing work arrangement due to pregnancy is less common. Also, I figure, why the drama? Nobody tracks my progress in the tabloids. I do that myself, right here.

As for that first bit, the man-culture bit: It has become clear to me I’ve made some huge assumptions about how I’d conduct myself, and what I’d engage in if/when parenting became a reality. To first qualify this statement: I consider myself more open to different things. I think of myself as, oh, less constrained to Midwestern folkways.

That said, did I ever think I’d quit my job? From the time I could ask myself that question until this year, the answer was always the same: Never. Not ever.

Perfectly sane people have asked me if I’d take a permanent leave of absence. One the face of it, this is fair to ask. I’m a hospital social worker. Cheri is a state attorney. Ultimately, we both work for the same government system, but she makes more. Had the recession never happened, our pay gaps would have widened further this year. Of course, that’s not happening now; wages are frozen for many people. Both of us acknowledge neither of us can take a huge leave. We’re in a boat shared with millions of people. We incurred debts to go to school, now we need to eliminate them. We also want the things new families want, such as a house. I’ll get into that in another post, but for now, both of us see ourselves as continuing to work.

My job, however, does not exist in my own private vacuum. A case in point: my voluntary on-call scheduling. One of the most rewarding parts of my job is to come in on the weekend and work with families who are facing the death of a loved one. I also work with the state organ procurement organization should the family support organ donation. It’s grueling work, but also work I love to do.

As of today, I quit that.

I didn’t want to quit, but I couldn’t take just a few months off; new people have be trained, and that is more work and more complicated, had I kept a foot in it. As of July 1st, I’ll make even less money (though negligible in the long term). But, I’ll have my weekends back.

Attempting to be the cook on a daily basis, I’ve found my dishes to be horrifyingly hit-and-miss. Cheri took a bite of Papa Murphy’s pizza last week, and damn near barfed. But she did do three ounces of grilled steak today. This made me very happy, as steak is very easy to prepare. In Iowa, we have an abundance of it.

Breakfast is another story. If I get up early enough, I can whip up a toasted egg-and muenster-cheese bagel. That seems to go over well. Cheri commutes a long distance every weekday, and my hope is to help her not pull into McDonald’s every day. Not that she can’t do that, of course, but it’s just cheaper to send her off with something to eat. I may have to come up with a menu. Hmmm.

To sum up, Cheri’s definitive quote: “Everything just tastes wierd.”