The Captain and his crew

The Fraser Family

Mom, Dad and the Captain.

Introducing: Cole Anthony Fraser

We would like to introduce our son; Cole Anthony Fraser.
He was born March 29th 2006 at 11:36 am and weighed 6 pounds 7 ounces. He is perfect in every way.
Needless to say mom and dad are over the moon.
More pics will follow.

having trouble posting pics.....will try again later...sorry, jed

Final thoughts

It is now 11:39pm the night before our son is to be born.
Sara is dozing on the couch finally. She has had a tough few days.
How do I feel now?
I feel tired, happy, scared, hopeful and incredibly blessed.

Our plan is to print out this blog, bind it into a book and give it to the Captain on his 18th or 21st birthday or sometime when we feel that he would appreciate it.

I have daydreamed many times about what my final words would be on this site. About what I would want to say to my son. But now that time has come, I'm lost for words.
Let me just say this.
Son, your not here yet and I don't know what the future will bring us.
I don't know whether or not I will be a good dad.
I don't know whether I will be as supportive of the things that will be important to you as you would like me to be.
I don't know whether I will be an inspiration to you or a disapointment.
I don't know whether I will be a good husband to your mother.
I don't know whether I can keep bread on the table or afford all the things I want for you.
But there are a few things I do know.
I know that I love you with all my heart.
And I will always love you.
I love your mother.
And, I will try to do the right thing. for both of you. Always; I promise.
For I am about to have my life incredibly changed by your presence and I truly am, at the begining of a great adventure.

Jed

The son will come out tomorrow

We weren't going to post again, but due to overwhelming demand for a final belly shot, here you go. And here are a couple of the new puppy, Franklin (better known as Frank the Tank, or Frankenstein)...

We're heading to the hospital in less than 12 hours--we'll be in touch! Love y'all.

Nesting

I've been obsessed with cleaning the damn windows. I thought that it was the woman that did the nesting thing?
I had been waking up in the night and thinking about how I am going to take the windows apart and clean them.
Anyway, finally I got to live my dream and clean the windows yesterday.
Becuase I wouldn't want the Captain to come home and notice that the windows were dirty...I know I'm crazy!!!
Poor Sara has patiently humoured me while I got it all out of my system.

Now I am like a cat on a hot tin roof. I'm jitterish over every move she makes. "Don't take that empty cup of coffee into the kitchen, that could very well bring on labour don't you know.."
All I do at work is sit and worry about what she is doing.
I cant concentrate.
I wish she wouldn't wear flipflops. She could slip and fall.
I'm 28 minutes from home in good traffic.
I still haven't put the baby seat into the Hummer.
I haven't picked out the clothes I am going to wear to the hospital with her.
I want to cry all the time.
I cant believe this is happening.
I love him so much.
I love her so much.
I cant believe there was a time I didn't want this.
I'm so scared.
I'm crying now.
I'm going to be a father in two days.
God...I hope I can do this.

Doorway to a Thousand Churches

"It was the tiniest thing I ever decided to put my whole life into."

Wow, can you believe that it's been nine months (actually ten months is what forty weeks adds up to...bastards, you didn't fool me)?!? I'm having very strange emotions about the entire experience. It's seemed like a lifetime, this pregnancy, as Jed will be happy to tell you--but at the same time, it seems like just yesterday we were sitting on the couch and I was mumbling, "uh..honey, I took another pregnancy test and...." I can still feel the disbelief as I sat in the bathroom and stared at the two little pink lines. And the butterflies thumping up into my chest as I tried to tell him the news. And the look on Jed's face when I told him, the utter and complete joy. I remember the feeling of calling Dave and Salem and Aubs, and just feeling like this was right and good and meant to be. I also remember the insecurity of gaining that early pregnancy weight, of feeling completely unsexy and unpretty and being afraid Jed would think I was horribly ugly. I remember also having terrible feelings, feeling like the world I knew had forgotten me, and my friends wanted nothing to do with me. Being meanly horomonal, and hating Jed for being able to have a cigarette or go out. It's funny now, because I realize just what I put that poor man through. Here he was, pregnant girlfriend, as scared as I was, and I expected him to magically turn into a father. Sorry, honey, I didn't realize that there's no magic "Daddy Fairy" to make men into appropriately supportive fathers (just like there's no "Mommy Elf" to make my arbitrarily angry ass into a compassionate, nuturing mother). It took time and understanding and growing up. It was the biggest adjustment I think two people can make, and yeah, I think we've done a pretty good job thus far. Plus we've been just immensely glad that our friends have gotten such a good laugh (really it's evil glee) at watching us change.

In many ways, I feel like our lives have been on hold the majority of the this year, and I suppose that in a way, they have. Our social life took a nose dive, and we don't know that it will ever recover. We've lost some friends, grown distant from many. And for a long while, that hurt us both deeply. It's hard to watch life go on without you, makes you realize that you're not, after all, the center of the universe. Man, was it ever difficult to realize that just because I wasn't out on the town, our social group didn't dissipate in the horror of losing me! Go figure. Our dynamic with each other also changed, and dramatically--We simply weren't, and couldn't be, the same old Jed and Sara. That too, I believe, is something that took an adjustment time, the realization that we could still love each other as fully as we had in our previous life. And that in fact, we loved each other more, and in a more profound sense, than we could have before.

But at the same time, so very much good has come from this. We quit smoking, because we finally had an unselfish reason to do so. I quit drinking, which admittedly had played a too-important role in my life, especially there at the end. (We're convinced that I somehow "knew" that I was about to get pregnant, because man, did I ever go on a tear). Jed also for the most part quit, which has greatly improved his health and well-being. We reconnected with family--not just that, I think we both have an understanding of family that we didn't have before. I have a newfound appreciation for my mother, and our relationship is closer than it's ever been. Jed talks to his family in the UK on a very regular basis, more so than he has in quite some time. We also grew incredibly close to each other. Granted, there's nothing more I miss than sitting on my husband's lap, martini in hand, yapping about nothing...but there's also no better feeling than laying in bed together with his hand on my gigantic belly, or waking up early on a Sunday to gorge ourselves on pancakes, or taking a slow walk around our neighborhood with our hoodlum dogs. And we also realize now that while things simply aren't going to return to normal between us once the baby's here, we can still enjoy the things we once did. It's just a matter of balance. And that's the coolest shit around--we CAN have it all, and we will.

This has been incredibly difficult...Didn't someone famous say that anything worth doing generally is? And in the end, I'm glad that this is my life, and I would not trade this--the good, the bad, and the very ugly--for anything. I feel incredibly blessed to have been pregnant, and I say this in the midst of raging horomones, horrible back pain, and fear of the unknown.

This pregnancy is nearing its end (uh, we're going to be parents in FOUR DAYS), although the greatest adventure is just beginning. This very well may be my last post. Who knows if we'll be able to keep this up after the Captain makes his long-awaited appearance? Who knows if I'll want to share with the world all of my short-comings as a mom once he's actually here? We'll see. And to those who've followed this blog, thanks for reading, and thanks for your continued attention, even when things weren't fun or easy. We hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as we've enjoyed the writing.

Stay tuned--it's about to get interesting.

One more day up in the canyon...

So begins another day of being a SAHM (that's "stay-at-home-mom" for those of y'all not down with babycenter.com lingo). No, I know I'm not technically a mom yet, but I'm supposed to be resting and letting the little beast grow. It's odd, staying home. I'm not complaining--don't get me wrong--but it's a pretty huge adjustment, and it was a long week dealing with the aloneness (is that a word?) of not working. I do, however, think that so far I'm doing a damn good job, although once I'm actually a mom and all, my ratings may very well slip. But, I made dinner every night last week, and I'm not talking Easy Mac or ordering Dominoes. Real dinner. Mom dinner. Like a souffle. And pork chops. Yowzas.

It makes me feel good for Jed to be able to come home, after 12 or so hours, and eat something decent, as opposed to the usual frozen curry or half-assed pasta. That being said, it IS still really hard to stay here, with little or no human interaction, all day. Here's how it goes:

6:30 wake up, take out monsters, feed aforementioned monsters. Coffee, breakfast, etc. Clean kitchen.
8:30 pass out on couch with Smeleanor and Frankenstein, who have harassed the shit out of me and Jed for the past 2 hours. Sleep through Regis and Kelly.
10-12 Clean. Really clean. Sanitize bathrooms, vaccumm, mop kitchen. Do one large project like organize drawers or do bathtub. Lock dogs out.
12 Eat. Mmm..
1-3 Meander around aimlessly. Lay out in sun, write thank you notes, check out babycenter.com, call Jed in tears for some asinine reason.
3-3:45 Walk dogs. This is a major feat. Major. Picture a nine-month pregnant lady, wrestling with two puppies, one of whom loves to eat poop, the other with an affinity for getting his mouth stuck on his harness every two minutes.
4 OPRAH and a snack. Rest.
5 Start watching Charmed, then plan dinner.
6 Cook
7 Eat, clean up. Wait for Jed. Pray stinkin' salespeople don't have any post-six deals. Stress out about being lonely. Wait some more.

Yeah, that's it...everyday, until Jed gets home. Then the dogs, who have been relatively well-behaved all day, decide to go absolutely stark raving mad. Like Renfield outta "Dracula" mad. I still maintain that getting a second dog was a good idea, and one that will pay off in the end, but sometimes it's just...a lot to take. And the noise--you'd think that we're killing the poor thing. He makes these horrible howls, apparently that's just part of being a beagle. Oh, and on top of everything, he's teething. Super duper.

I think the majority of my boredom isn't so much from the routine, which I don't mind. I really don't even hate cleaning...the house looks good, and it's comfortable. Plus I'm in nesting mode, so it works out well, given that I can't seem to get the baseboards clean enough and if there's one item in the laundry basket, I have to force myself not to start the washer.

What bothers me is the lack of interaction with another human, and I don't think the baby's gonna cut it. Who woulda thought that I'd miss being at the Y? And I don't, miss the crappy-I-hate-this-job part of the Y, but I do miss having a real conversation. I'm definitely going to try to find some kind of mommy group or something, which Jed keeps reminding me of (I think he thinks I'm going to go postal)--but it has to be relatively cool group. I can't handle play dates where we knit or talk about what a nice spring we're having. You know what I mean? I guess I don't really feel part of the "moms club" yet, just sorta out of place. I feel like a little kid dressed up in 'grown-up' clothes with a pillow stuffed under my shirt. Seriously. Me--a mom? So we're really going to go to the hospital in two weeks, as a couple, and then...they're going to let us take a baby home? Say huh? Um...can we hang out in the maternity ward for a few weeks, just until we get the hang of it? Can my mom just move in to the guest bedroom so that whenever the Captain crys for no reason, or projectile vomits, or has gas, or freaks me out in any way...I can just holla up for her help? Seriously, I'd like a childcare expert to just follow me around all day and make sure that the bean is in good form. Ack.

Mais non, they are really going to give us a little blob of a human and say, "Here, he's yours. Now take him home and feed him and love him and teach him and try not to screw him up. You are officially responsible for his well-being, safety, and mental health for at least the next 18 years (hah), and it is your job to make sure he turns into a functioning and productive member of society, as opposed to Buffalo Bill. Good luck."

Mr. Stork is on his way

Here's a picture of Mr.Stork.
He's on his way to pick up the Captain.
Sara has been scheduled for a c-section on March 29th at 11:00am at St.Francis hospital for women.
The little monster is refusing to turn.
I can just see him now,"Hey, you want a piece of me? Well your gonna have to come and get me, 'cos I aint moving, jackasses"
Well little one we're gonna get ya!
It is rather a dissapointment really. Don't get me wrong,this is the best and safest way to bring the little Captain into the World. But I was kind of looking forward to the whole experience of Sara calling me, having contractions and me panicking and rushing around like a chicken with it's head cut off.
But overall, We are happy your coming Captian Picard and we will both be honoured by your presence.
Let me just say thank you now (in case I forget later) to all those who have left wonderful comments and words of encouragement for us. We love you all.

Waiting for the Bean

We've pretty much finished the nursery..had to change the carpet as the dogs (yes, dogs) decided that the sailboat rug just wouldn't do. It looks great; I don't think these pictures do it justice.

The Doctor's Office

What is it with the doctor’s office?
I have this theory. Well not so much a theory as an observation.
Whenever I go to the doctor. And it doesn’t matter which doctor. Whether it be my GP or a “specialist”, They all make me wait for a ridiculous amount of time. Not just once but TWICE!
First, they make me an appointment at say 8:00 am (way too early to get there, and they know it) and then they tell me how important it is that I arrive on time, in fact better get there 15 minutes before hand because there WILL be paperwork to fill out.
When I do get there. On time I might add.
I find that the paperwork I have to fill out takes all of 30 seconds.
Then I wait.
In the waiting room.
Which at this point isn’t too bad because at least there are two year old magazines to read. I always pick Newsweek, Time or National Geographic.
History is always an interesting read and I usually get through half the magazine.
I really believe that the receptionist is instructed to watch me carefully though. Because, every time I get engrossed in a really interesting article on say, Nigerian diamond mining, they call my name. I then have this overwhelming urge to say something like “can I take this magazine with me?” but I never do, why? Because my friends, I naively think that I am going to see the doctor now.
Oh contraire.
I am now led through a maze of corridors to a small sanitized cubicle sized room with a bed/bench kind of thingy covered with paper. I am instructed to sit on the bed/bench thingy and the doctor will be right with me.
He wont!
In fact he will be anything but be right with me.
This is the worst room by the way. Why? Because there is nothing to do. No magazines, no brochures, no nothing. Admittedly, there are a few pictures on the walls of uteruses and a body with the skin peeled off of it. And there are a few pamphlets on the other side of the room for cialis or osteoporosis I’m not sure which. But they are too far away and I am always too scared to walk over to them to read them, just in case the doctor walks in and catches me. (“ha ha” he would say “what are you looking at that for?”)
So, I sit there quietly and listen to the sounds in the corridor.
I know the doctor is on the other side of that door. Shuffling papers and walking loudly up and down the corridor just to add to my anxiety. He does it on purpose, I know it.
I am by this time indignant.
How dare they keep me here waiting this long.
Why cant they make me an appointment at 9:30am if that’s when the doctor is going to see me.
I’m going to lodge a complaint.
Write a letter.
Call my congressman.
Create a consumer advocacy group. Citizens against waiting in doctors offices and getting bored society. Or something.
Just when I cant stand it any longer and I am about to completely lose it.
In walks the doctor.
“Hello Mr. Fraser, how are we today?” he says with genuine concern
Bloody Nazi.