Journal of LittleTwo - Post 1

Journal of LittleTwo’s Coming Into This Allain Family.

Initial Entry: 9 Aug 05
This is a chronicle of our experiences and memories on what LittleTwo is to us, Jonathan, Michel, and Abigail, in the two months that LittleTwo has existed, and for the next 7 months until LittleTwo can join us outside of Mommy’s womb.

How we found out – by Jonathan
Initially, as is typical, we had no awareness of LittleTwo’s existence, until Michel missed her first period. We weren’t paying that much attention because we were moving from South Carolina to New Jersey. In fact, we had closed on the house and moved in the same day, Monday July 18th, 2005. That night we started wondering why Michel was still being so nice to me. I guess I should say I was wondering.

On Tuesday she asked me if I knew when her last period was, and so help me, I did. At the suggestion of TheMarriageBed.com newsletter I was receiving, I started logging her cycle to learn what kind of emotional and physical states were coinciding with certain times of her menstrual cycle. I wanted to learn more about who she was from day to day, so I could be a better husband, friend, lover during these times. In any case, being the gadget freak that I am, I had my new PDA with which I was tracking this information. When she asked me this, I got quite excited because, yes, I did know exactly when she last had her period, thanks to my geekiness. In a matter of seconds I had the answer. She should have had her period about 3 days ago. We looked at each other, with one of those looks that is so appropriate to momentous occasions like this one. She said, “I think I will pick up a test.” Since we were busy with preparing the dining room for the coming furniture (stripping the wallpaper, cleaning and fixing the walls, and then painting), we waited until the next day.

In the meantime, she had asked me a couple times how I would like to find out. These discussions generally resulted in me telling her that I want her to come up with something, and that it would be nice if she kept it a surprise if I had no idea it was even coming. However, I would like to know fairly quickly if I was somewhat clued in to the possibility of her being pregnant, much like the current situation. Of course, this was very clear in my mind, and I naturally put much faith in my own ability to express this to her. Ah, the joys of communicating with your spouse…
So now it is morning on Wednesday, and Michel takes Abigail shopping for several items while I am masking and preparing the wall for the new paint job (Cranapple on the bottom, and what becomes Clam Chowder on the top). They got home, like normal, and I naturally investigated the bags for anything I can play with, and I saw the pink box that was the test. I didn’t think too much about it, as I had a lot to do. I went back to work.

So, now it is mid-afternoon on Wednesday, and Michel is sitting in the music room with the laptop checking some websites. We had been doing this regularly since Tuesday’s installation of the cable modem, keeping up with email and looking into the stuff we needed from the local area. We didn’t even know where the main stores or gas stations were, so there was a lot of familiarization with our GPS software. She asked me some question that led me to thinking that she was doing more of this research. More on this later.

I remember this next moment quite clearly, for some unknown reason. I should say, quite clearly for me, as my memory is almost never “quite clear”. I was sitting on the dining room floor working on the wall that adjoins the kitchen. I realized she had been home for some time, and I further realized she should have already performed the test. Yet she hadn’t said anything to me.

Here’s where it gets interesting. I was working as I asked her rather offhandedly how long the test results would take. It had been approximately 30 minutes. She said, “Two minutes.” I waited for more information, then said, “And?” Her response to that was slightly dodgy. Suddenly I wasn’t being very offhand any more. I probed her and she made it clear that she was not telling me with the purpose of drawing this whole thing out. I don’t think she realized it, but she had this wicked little smile to her lips. Actually, the wickedness was all over her face. I pressed further, but it was clear she wasn’t going to give me anything. I was left with the impression that it truly could be either way. My brain mulled this over for about 5 minutes (what I look back at now, and see as likely being closer to 20 seconds), evaluating the data. What had her face looked like? What was the tone of her voice? Is there anything here that could enable me to short-circuit this process and figure it out for myself? What is the likelihood of her being pregnant? Can I really wait until such time as she is done torturing my poor, loving, beautiful soul that doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment when all I am is the lovingest, massagingest, back-rubbingest, do-anything-and-everything-for-my-wife-whenever-she-asks-me-to-est husband in the world?! I manage to say almost-sweetly, “I can’t take this, I need to know!”

Her voice from the other room: “I am due at the end of March. Either the 23rd, or the 22nd.” I sat mute, and thinking furiously. This one took me a moment. It seemed like very simple words spoken in the language I am most accustomed, yet each individual word was being evaluated at the highest centers of my brain. My brain kicked into high-gear, studying the complex equation she had just given me to find the solution that would save the world from imminent disaster. Everything in my being was focused on those few simple words she spoke, and the conundrum presented. Either that or I was dumbfounded. I am guessing that Michel will tell you that my brain was not saving the world. Suddenly, my brain made an audible click.

I leaned back to look around the wall that prevented the two rooms from being one, and our eyes from meeting. I’ll never forget the look on her face. Though I can hardly believe it, I’ll call it “Meek”. Those of you that know Michel, know that this word never comes out of my mouth when describing the woman I have sold myself to, yet, there it is: absolutely meek. Her head slightly down, her moist eyes looking at me slightly puppy-dog style, this little half-smile, half-crying set to her mouth, and BOOM! My heart exploded.

I got up to go giver her a hug and BOOM! She exploded with a bunch of explanations as to why she didn’t tell me right away and that she wanted to make it something special and I hadn’t told her how to make it special and she wanted to make it fun and she was really looking up her due date online and that her test was positive and that her test was very positive and then I got her in my arms. Here is where my memory is once again a bit vague, and I think I said something terribly profound and meaningful like, “Awesome”.

She broke the spell, and asked me if we should go tell Abigail now or later. I said now. We went upstairs to tell her.

Now, some explanation is in order. Abigail, like all 5 year olds, takes the old idea of heliocentrism and fits it to her own concept of her existence. Take the idea that the sun is the center of the universe, shining brightly for all to revolve around and worship, and change it slightly to mean that she is the sun. Now you can fit in with her understanding of her place in the universe. And yours.

At first she wasn’t entirely happy at the concept that her dominance in our lives might be subverted. Then she got a little embarrassed, because we had recently taught her the basic mechanics of how sex works, not having any clue that we would put such knowledge to such practical use so quickly. We said her feelings were ok, and there is nothing to feel bad about, but if she doesn’t like it, that’s ok with us.

Now, a few weeks later, Abigail, like us, has gotten much more comfortable with the idea. She points and yells out her identification of any human that might fit the description of a baby. In the mall this weekend, a woman with an infant walked by us as we were leaving; she pointed so vigorously that her finger quivered, tracking just an inch or two away from said child while she shouted, “Look! There’s another baby!” We gather that she is now excited about the prospect of being a big sister. Finally, someone in the house, other than the dog, that is expected to obey her demands. She actually rubbed her hands together at one point with the glee associated with a mad genius celebrating her flawless plan to try and take over the world.

Back to the parents.

Just like last time (Abigail, for those of you who are uninformed), Michel is apparently VERY pregnant. The pregnancy test instructions say it could take up to two minutes for the little plus symbol to register the results. Michel hadn’t even gotten it to where she could see it before it registered her pregnancy.

Once again, we weren’t even trying. We’re good, eh?

How LittleTwo got his/her name – Jonathan
When Abigail was in the womb, we came up with the name “Wookie” for a now unknown reason. Unknown to me, that is. We just wanted a cutesie name we could use instead of “it” or “the thing in your belly”. This time around, we needed another one that wouldn’t be confused with a large hairy creature in a well-known movie (however well it might apply in the future, more on this in a moment)

We threw a few bright ideas around, like “Wookie 2”, and “Fetus”, until my highly intelligent and logical brain decided it was going to get into the act. As a family we came up with several, um, good ones, especially Abigail’s names, which mostly centered around the concept that we had a new pet in the house. At one point we mentioned to each other that Abigail is the little one around the house. I know you’ve already figured it out, but let me tell the story, already! Sheesh. Anyways, I rubbed my chin as I said, “You know, Abigail is the little one, why not, because this is terribly logical, and because the number two almost always follows number one, and because the child is quite little still, and will be for some time, why don’t we call the child “Little Two” for now? Get it? The little one is followed by the little two?” Michel gave me one of those looks not generally described as “meek” and said that she liked the idea. She then asked Abigail, who said that she liked it, as well, and my triumph was complete. I, not anyone else, came up with the perfect name. I quickly added it to my list of triumphs that I keep handily in my PDA. Well, not really, but it sounds funny.

So now, LittleTwo is steadily becoming a more prominent feature in our lives, as well as in Michel’s stature (get it?). Oh, we also use L2 for short, in limited occasions.

To tidy up this little bit of writing, I will now explain the inherent appropriateness in naming any child (well, our child anyways) “Wookie”. Most of you know what a Wookiee is, some of you don’t. A Wookiee is an imaginary creature in the Star Wars universe that is generally considered to be strong, hairy, large, and loud. Further, when said creature makes these loud noises, they are a very whiny-sounding noise. Let me demonstrate: “Uhhhhhhhhhhhh”, “Ahhhhhhhhhh”, Ohhhhhhhhh” “Poppin-fresh dough!” Okay, ignore that last part, that’s TV culture for you. There is a lot of variation of pitch in these expressions, which pass for language in the world of the Wookiees (also known as Kashyyk for you other geeks out there). I digress. Listen to a sample. Another sample. More samples on this page. When Abigail is expressing her displeasure at many of the things in this world with which she expresses displeasure (a long list), she would often make a Wookiee sound. I first recognized this relationship, much to my delight, and promptly posted a picture of the most popular Wookiee, Chewbacca, on Abigails bedroom door, with a wonderfully written “Lives here.” It looked something like this:

good one, eh?

She didn’t take wonderfully kindly to this, but it was fantastically appropriate, as I explained to her. I started with imitations of her whining noises, and asked her if they sounded correct. She grunted, folded her arms, and said, “Yes.” Gotta hand it to her, the girl is sometimes brutally honest. Then I made some Wookiee-like noises, and asked her if they sounded similar. She grunted again, and through a terribly overacted annoyed face, said that they did. I then pointed to the picture and said, “That’s what you sound like!” Her fists shot straight down by her side as she whined, “No, I don’t!” This time, her honesty apparently had other pressing engagements. I promptly added this to my list of triumphs on my PDA. (No I didn’t)