No more exams for me!

It looks like taping a $20 to the inside of each blue-book paid off. (if you're a possible employer, that was just a joke.) The Texas Board of Law Examiners posted the list of people that passed the July 2008 Bar Exam, and I was on it. Becoming a licenced attorney is great but the real joy comes from knowing I'll never (ever-ever) have to take that exam again. Many thanks to all those who believed in me, even when I didn't, I should be in a better mood from now on.

I'm in mourning.

Why am I in mourning, you ask? Because the best college football team in the country went into what they knew would be an emotionally-charged game with their heads placed firmly in their @#$%@ (fannys). I am disappointed, but life goes on.

And go on life has since the last blog entry. As you may remember, last time I quickly discussed the gestational diabetes test my baby-momma was about to undergo. Tyf followed all the doctor's directions on drinking the super-sugary "tang" and followed some not so good directions from her husband on eating a turkey sandwich before the test. And failed it. She failed the one-hour diabetes test by a whopping 2 points. This anomaly was quickly blamed on the directions of said wayward husband and the 3-hour diabetes test was scheduled.

The 3-hour test was, for lack of a better word, a mess. Tyf, not wanting to throw off the test for a second time, made sure to fast for 12 hours before the appointment. This ensured that Tyf would get the best result from the test and that the 4 blood draws Tyf had to endure would cause nausea, vomiting, cold sweats, fainting, seizures, and a general crappiness. After the second blood draw, the lab techs decided that it would be in everyone's best interest to allow Tyf to stay where she was on the table and turned out the lights in 1 of only 3 rooms in the lab. The lab's appointment schedule was off by about 45 minutes by the time we left, but Tyf was able to leave under her own power, which is near miraculous.

Tyf refused to contact the doctor until after Halloween weekend so that she could enjoy the sugary holiday without guilt. We called this morning to get the results and, as I have been telling from the beginning, SHE DOES NOT HAVE GESTATIONAL DIABETES. So feel free to congratulate her, and keep those prayers and well wishes coming 'cause we only have about 3 months left.

Oh yeah, HOOK 'EM!!!

Salt and Sugar

To all those keeping up with the blog, I am very sorry I have not posted in so long. There are many different reasons why I haven't posted so I won't go into them here, but I don't plan to let those reasons keep me from blogging further. Thus, you can all get your baby info and Billy-blather fix on a more consistent basis.

First things first, baby and momma are doing just fine. The pictures on this entry can be clicked on to enlarge, they are from the most recent of the sonograms.

Second, brings us to the title of this entry: Salt and Sugar, two of Tyf''s favorite things. Two things which Tyf is currently depriving herself of in a very self-sacrificing manner (she likes to remind me of this often). Tyfany has actually refrained from salting any of her food from the day she found out she was pregnant. A feat I am very proud of. Giving up salt may not seem like such a big deal for many of you reading this but, if you have ever shared a meal with Tyfany or are a member of the Boettcher family, you understand. It's a sacrifice akin to fish giving up water, koalas giving up mildly narcotic eucalyptus, Homer Simpson giving up beer, or McCain giving up the moniker "Maverick." It's a big deal.

The Sugar would be a deal breaker if it was sacrificed for an extended period of time. Luckily, the sugar embargo is only for a few days thanks to the upcoming gestational diabetes test. The test will actually be done tomorrow afternoon, so Tyf can then go back to her jalapeno-poppers and dutch chocolate ice cream, or the new favorite BBQ potato chips and chocolate milk.

It's a BOY!!!

It's a boy, it's a boy, it's a boy, boy, boy. It's a boy, it's a boy, it's a boy, boy, boy. It's a boy, it's a boy, it's a boy, boy, boy. It's a booooooooooy, it's a boy, boy, boy. (to the lone ranger theme)

Pictures and a full length post to follow.

Gotcha!

The scheduled day for discovering the sex of Baby Double B has come and gone and no news? What . . . how is this even possible?

Well, it would seem that Baby Double B is smarter than any baby ever in the history of recorded time. I can only surmise that Double B could hear us talking about the sonogram as we were preparing for it and quickly turned his/her back to the sonogram and curled into a partial ball to hide the girl or boy parts. I am a little concerned that the tucking did reveal some thermo-dynamics equations on the back of Tyf's uterus that, if I understood them, would require Dr. Guerra to wear some sort of protective vest during delivery. Then, after persistent maneuvering of the sonogram, Double B began to shoo us away taking his or her modesty to the extreme. And I'm fairly certain just before the sonogram was removed Double B "flipped me the bird" and began to giggle!

Actually, there was no sonogram. The doc in her infinite wisdom decided it would be better to wait until 24-28 weeks to be absolutely certain of the baby's sex. Of course, she changed her mind after 30 seconds into the checkup yesterday. So, what started out being one of the coolest anniversary gifts Tyfany and I could have had that was then denied us, really could have been but for the lack of an appointment. The appointment has been set for this Friday the 26th. Be expecting another blog posting. If you haven't yet voted time is running short, get to it.

Some results are in...

Unfortunately, only some of the results. The sex of baby B-B is still an unknown, possibly Sept. 23 if all goes as planned. The results that we do have are from "most" of the blood work. If you remember from a previous post, the blood-draw turned into a bit of a fiasco (even though I don’t think vomiting on a nurse is that big a deal). It turns out that an unconscious-vomiting-convulsing baby mama can keep the nurses from getting enough blood to run all the tests. The tests they were able to run came back “A-OK”. And the tests that were run were the ones concerning the baby’s development. Thus, baby B-B (I was told I can’t use “Fetus” anymore) is normal for AFP, hCG, uE3 and, apparently, the “rh factor” isn’t going to be a factor. So, short but sweet, everything is progressing perfectly (even though Tyf still thinks she has the diabetes). Perhaps after the next round of tests we can put the ‘betes to bed.

The truth is in there.

For those of you who have voted on the likely sex of Fetus the answer will be revealed in a few short weeks. In fact, the date scheduled for the ultra-sound is Tyfany and my 3rd wedding anniversary. Due to the excitement of the last doctors visit (i.e. needles, vomit, and seizures . . See below) we didn’t realize that we had selected our anniversary to find out the sex of Fetus. Funny how these things happen, but this gives all of you late voters until September 23rd to make your decision. Every vote counts, especially if it’s for a boy . . . that’s right Ed, a boy.

Fetus Goes On Vacation, Mom and Dad go along

Alright, so it's been nearly a month since the last post. These things happen. I make no excuses for my laziness, it simply is. What has been happening since the last update? Let's see...

A few days after finishing the bar exam, Tyfany and I went on our big vacation. We flew into San Francisco early in the afternoon on Thursday, August 7th. Immediately after picking up our rental car we went to the Embarcadero. Noisy sea lions on Pier 39 and delicious clam chowder in a sourdough bread bowl were taken in while we huddled together. No matter how many times I go to San Fran the fact that it can be 60 degrees with the sun shining in the middle of August still throws me (and my 107 degree Texas summer shorts and t-shirt). That evening, we met with all of the family in Walnut Creek. Saturday was the big family reunion at Grandma and Grandpa Burke's house. There was a great bar-b-que and all had a good time, even though there was a palpable sadness that Grandpa, who was in the hospital recovering from surgery, couldn't be there.

I won't relate the rest of the trip step by step because it would be too long, but there was a tour of Korbel vineyard, a trip through Muir Woods National Forest, and an amazingly relaxing week at a beautiful "cabin" (cabin doesn't seem to fit this gorgeous home) in Lake Tahoe. Much thanks to Mom and Dad for the trip and Lynn and Steve Werle for use of their "cabin" in Tahoe.

Now to the baby front. All is well, no matter what you've heard. Tyfany and I went to the doctor yesterday for an appointment. Dr. Guerra, our OB, did the heart monitor for fetus and we got to hear a strong heart beat at 147 beats a minute. Dr. Guerra said that for all intents and purposes everything was looking good. Then the fun began. The real purpose of this appointment was to do the blood draw for the quad-screen. Tyf does not do well with blood draws, so she had insisted that these be done at the same time rather than do multiple draws. Unfortunately, halfway through the draw, Tyf's anxiety got the better of her and she passed out and proceeded to scare a couple years off my life. Let's just say the word "epilepsy" was being thrown around rather casually. Hey there, what's a little vomit and convulsing between friends? Tyf woke with a vivid memory of a field and a horse, and then took a 3 hour nap. We'll be watching my baby-mama very closely but Dr. Guerra insists that everything is fine. In fact, she has even promised my embarrassed wife that she'll still deliver our baby. Of course, all prayers and happy thoughts are much appreciated.

More Heart Than Sense.

This is an appropriate description of my wife and myself. Why you ask? Well, besides the fact that we are expecting our first child. (and yes everything is normal [definition: rockin'] on the baby front) We have 3 large ridgebacks, one small black cat, and are surviving on Tyf's lucrative (wink, wink) Bark & Lounge doggy daycare salary, we can't say "no" to a pup or even 2.

To be perfectly honest this one is my fault, I fell for these two girls right away. Monday morning, the day before the bar exam, I get a phone call asking me to go to the Watauga animal shelter to look at a couple dogs. The phone call was from Beth, one of the directors of Little Orphan Angels (LOA) the rescue group Tyf and I foster dogs through. These 2 girls broke my heart and I had decided to take them before Tyf had even gotten there. We took them to the vet and thats where they staid until Thursday night. So instead of kicking back on the couch, drinking beer, and enjoying a giant steak, after the final day of the biggest exam of my life. I was wrestling mastiffs.

Oh, did I forget to mention that the 2 girls are 140lb. English Mastiffs. Huh, like I said more heart than sense. So meet the new foster dogs Tinker Bell, and Tulip.

Echo Fetus Location!

It's really real. No serious, I saw little Fetus jump and wave his/her little arms. Even though Fetus spent most of the ultrasound mooning us, he/she did roll over and start doing an odd form of leg press (as seen in the photo on top). Fetus firmly planted his/her big noggin' on the placenta and then began pushing his/her butt into the air (proof that he's a Burke after all). The whole experience was awesome, a thundering heart rate of 163 beats per minute, and a solid tumbling routine. But, as you can tell we will have to wait for the next ultrasound to learn the sex. (sorry this was so short, and not edited, but I have to get back to studying.)

^ click on the pic to see them supersized.

Fetus the mighty!

Sorry to all for the lack of activity on the blog but, to be perfectly honest, not much is happening. Not much is happening baby-wise, I should say. Tyf had another doctor's appointment. She did not in fact see the doctor but only had a conversation with a nurse about the possible genetic prowess of Fetus. I tried to explain to Tyf that due to a slew of medical experiments that have been performed on me by our government in a joint effort with the dopplgangers from the third moon of (the former planet) Pluto, Fetus will be nigh impervious to everything but the bite from a gamma-irradiated gnu. Thus, rendering the genetic counseling moot. But, Tyf didn't want to hear it, and again I was banned from a doctor's appointment. Which was just as well because I had to be in Bar Review class anyway.

On the other hand things are moving right along on the baby-preparation side of things. Well, not in any physical way. We haven't moved a stick of furniture, but in our minds the nursery is rockin' like a fat kid on a trampoline. (What!?! Bad karma?) Anyway, Tyf has also taken full advantage of the Fort Worth public library and checked out every "What to expect when a happy baby on the block with your girlfriend and pregnancy dummies go week by week" book and DVD available. And we've watched/read nearly all of them. Of course the week after our new neice Bailey came to visit Uncle Billy and Aunt Tyf, we learned the five "S's" of soothing a baby. It's something like swaddling, swinging, shaking, screaming. . . I don't know, it looked like fun. We'll have to try it next time.

Everyone be sure to vote on the side bar for your call on the sex of Fetus. The battle rages on with me, my sister Tam, and Nana (Tyf's grandma) saying - Boy; and Tyf, Tyf's sister Tam, and Mom & Dad Boettcher saying - Girl. Let you voice be heard! Rock the vote!

I know nothing. . .

Tyfany and I went to our first doctor's appointment yesterday, and from this appointment I have learned three things.

First, I am not allowed in the room during examinations. It seems my very presence is aggravating, disconcerting, and somewhat creepy for nearly all those involved. This shouldn't have come as a shock because this has been the reaction of most women in small rooms in which I have sat in for most of my life. I had hoped being a father-to-be may have changed that. I was wrong.

Second, I have no sense of timing when it comes to re-entering the examination room. I can stand outside and mentally estimate the amount of time I think it will take Tyfany to redress then add a few seconds and still when I open the door, to rush in and be a supportive husband, I will have opened the door at the most awkward and anger-inducing time possible. Again, I'm sorry honey.

Third, if you want a foolproof way of making Tyf cry, simply rub the crook of her elbow with an alcohol swab. It helps if you tell her your going to be drawing blood. Then sit back and watch the eyes redden and tears fall. In all sincerity, she was a trooper this time around she never said "ouch" or even looked like she would faint.

After all of this learning, we still didn't find out an estimated due date (thanks to a broken sonogram) and didn't even hear the doctor say "yep, you're pregnant." I guess she's taking our word for it. Thus, until the next appointment those three things are all I know.

Baby on Board!

Tyfany and I are very lucky, not only in the fact that we are having our first child, but also that other members of our families [my sister Tamara, and Tyf's sister Tamara] have had babies fairly recently. In fact, if all goes according to plan, our baby will be born just after Elli's 3rd birthday and just before Bailey's first birthday, and I'm talking within days. Besides the obvious support and tips from those people who have just dealt with pregnancy and birth, is the thievery of ideas [e.g., this blog. . . thanks Brent]

Just like my brother-in-law, I will do my best to keep this blog up-to-date on all the baby happenings so that our families, spread across the country, can hear about the good news, excitement, and utter fear. And of course, all tips, comments, and suggestions are not only appreciated but encouraged. . . some might say begged for.

For those of you who haven't heard, and for posterity sake, Tyfany and I discovered the joyous news on May 27. Tyfany had actually had the feeling prior to that but didn't know for sure until 4:15 AM when, after a strange dream, she couldn't fall back to sleep so instead went to the bathroom and took a pregnancy test. Tyfany, of course, tried to tell me what she had discovered to no avail. I'm not big on chatting at 4:30 AM. The next morning around 8:00 AM as I was stepping into the shower Tyf gave me the good news. Many excited expletives and 4 pregnancy tests later, Tyf is searching for the closest hospitals to the house and what books she should read, and I'm trying to decide whether a Baby Bjorn or a modified car seat will best strap to a Rhodesian Ridgeback.

Needless to say we both feel extremely blessed, excited, and more than a little afraid.