I am sitting in a coffee shop in Vancouver, a mere five days after we departed from the nation's capital. That's around forty-five hundred kilometers, or roughly four 12+ hour days of driving. We got in last night and slept on a makeshift bed of clothes and yoga mats. This evening we will be indulging in some true luxury with a brand new air mattress (don't worry, the bed's arriving Sunday).

Phew! So here we are. I think it's going to take a fair bit of time to realize that we actually live in this city. Vancouver's always been a travel destination for me, rather than a place where one actually lives. I think people here must be picking up on the euphoria I'm feeling, because nearly everyone I've talked to today has been extremely open and friendly. Funny that.

Okay, so, baby news! Lis is getting huge and feeling every bit of it. Movement is becoming more and more complicated, and the aches and pains seem to multiply by the hour. To help her out, I keep looking at her and saying, "Holy! You're pregnant!" There's just no denying it at this point, although I've heard you're not supposed to ask about pregnancy until after the baby is born. Then you say, "Holy! You were pregnant!?" Unfortunately, we're way beyond all that. Unless those ultrasounds were fakes...

We've been referring to the baby increasingly as "our son" and by his name. It's amazing how much more bonded we're feeling because of this. He's already a member of our family at this point, and it's hard to imagine anything else. We are going to try to soak in as much of this city as we can before he's born. From what I've heard it takes some minor adjustments to lifestyle when you're actually parenting a child. I'm sure people are just exaggerating, though, right?

Anyway, there's a ton to take in right now, so as I process all of these crazy changes, I'll keep you posted. Take care for now and have a dizzyingly dazzlingly magically delicious weekend!

Yesterday we bee-lined from Ottawa to Wawa. Today it was Wawa to the 'peg. Zipped by 1200kms of Ontario. Crossed the longitudinal center of Canada (it's just east of Winnipeg). Tomorrow is a whole lotta prairie. Lis is feeling the baby kick as I write. I'm giddy with excitement about getting out to Vancouver. We saw a moose, a lynx, and a bunch of deer today.  Our cat is a huge trooper, and is exploring the hotel room at the moment. I'd imagine hotel rooms have a fascinating blend of odours for a kitteh.

I think the biggest thing on my mind today is just how weird and awesome it's going to be to see all of our planning on the West Coast start to materialize. By this time Saturday, we will be in the house we'll live in when the baby's born. We can start looking for our crib, stroller, change table, etc. We can decorate and start to make a home. Everything has been abstract until this point, but the wheels are now irreversibly set in motion.

We had a funny conversation today about backtracking. We were looking for lunch in one of the innumerable villages in northern Ontario (Upsala, I think) and we had just driven by some possible options when suddenly the town ended. We were both pretty hungry by that point, and considered the possibility of turning around to grab a bite at one of the places we'd just seen. But it's hard to explain just how wrong it felt for both of us. Lis summed it up nicely when she said, "I'd rather drive 200 kilometers to the next town than to go back one minute." We were going forward, and to take even one step in the other direction felt impossible.

That's what this whole West Coast move feels like, at least for me. It has everything to do with the realization of a dream. It is so crazy to me that we will be raising our son in a city I've adored for my whole life, and now that it's starting to happen, I feel that anything else just couldn't make sense. It is extremely hard for both of us to leave friends and family in Ontario, and we are going to do everything humanly possible to stay close with people there, but for us, this is what had to be. It is the adventure of a lifetime, and it has just the kind of otherworldly blessedness to it that I want to bring our baby boy into.

Anyway, there's probably a hint of delirium in that description, but the 'peg will do funny things to the mind. Tomorrow when you are wherever you are, I invite you imagine your way along with us as we fly by fields of wheat and corn in pursuit of the continent's western edge. Those Rockies will loom on the horizon (or possibly all round us) by the time the sun goes down.

Well here we are at the end of another week! It's week 20 for the pregnancy, or five months, which is both intense and pretty awesome. It's a crazy time for our little family. Next Monday we hit the road and drive across the country to our new Vancouver home. I'll try to do a "dispatches form the road" style thing, which will probably mean evening posts and possibly the occasional daytime tweet. I'm really excited! I can't wait to see this glorious country again. It could very well be our last long road trip before we have kids. What an adventure!

I was thinking this morning about an idea I came across in Bringing up Bébé -- the idea of a baby as a little adult. I love the idea of having friends over and treating our kid like he's a smart, capable young lad, rather than a glorified stuffed doll. I like the idea of surrounding the little one with other people who are treated as equally important and worthy of respect. Of course babies and toddlers are ridiculously cute and can't help but to be the center of attention, but I think it's also empowering and beneficial to give them credit as forming human beings, and as something other than God's gift to the world. As with anyone, it can be exhausting and counterproductive to be the center of attention all the time. Just look at Tom Cruise.

Along these lines, my wife and I were chatting the other day about the importance of validating kids' feelings while they're growing up. A lot of the time parents seem to think that just because they've been through something, it's a cliché or ridiculously simple. I think this happens with teenagers a lot, but it also occurs with young children.  The fact is that when you're navigating anything for the first time it can be difficult and frustrating, even if it looks cute to others. Think of trying to learn a new language or skill. The occasional tantrum does not seem completely out of line. Just because kids have little arms doesn't mean thy can't have big emotions.

Anyway, I think that's my last random thought for the week. Have a great weekend, and I'll see you from the road on Monday!  West Coast: here we come!

One of the weirdest and most unexpected things about the pregnancy so far has been the waxing and waning of the feeling that it's actually real and happening. My wife and I were chatting about this yesterday. Last week when we found out the baby's sex, we didn't know what hit us. Suddenly this little blobby image we kept seeing felt like it was going to be a flesh-and-blood person in our lives. It felt so real, and we knew that every kick and movement for a few days after that was coming directly our little son.

Oddly, though, as we were driving back from a road trip to Kingston yesterday, we were both amazed at how the pregnancy had somehow switched back to feeling unreal again. What I mean is that we know that in theory we're going to have a baby, but nothing in the day to day suggests it's anything more than a kind of vague notion.

I don't know why the mind does this, but I have a feeling it has something to do with how long we can sustain our imaginations for. When we get a new, vital piece of information, it's easy to hang every impression on it, and organize our thoughts around the key detail, but it's hard to keep the memory fresh. It's a bit like listening to your new favourite song over and over until it stops having an impact. I wonder what other details in the pregnancy will stick like this. I wonder if it'll get harder to ignore once Lis gets to be truly huge. Will it still feel like the day-to-day, or is it going to take over everything?

For now, it's kind of nice to both remember and forget we're having a baby. I'd imagine there will be plenty of time in the coming months for us to wish that we could forget about having him, so this is a dreamily enjoyable phase. It's healthy to think about other things. I think it's overly romantic to believe that you will spend every minute of every day in awe of the miracle of birth. Those moments come in their time, and it's better, I believe, when they come as a surprise. The alternative seems to be some kind of persistent sentimentality, which doesn't really benefit anyone,

When I was visiting with my little nephew this past weekend, I suddenly had a sense of how frustrating life must be when you're four months old. I could sense that he was trying to get at his environment and manipulate the world around him, but he hadn't even necessarily connected the neurons that told him that if you want to see something you have to look at it. It would be infuriating, honestly, knowing that there was some cool object somewhere else, but not knowing that you have to turn your head to see it. He got to the point of exasperation frequently. He had no way of communicating short of crying, which is imprecise to put it mildly. Crying is the bodily equivalent of saying "Something's wrong somewhere in the world."

I was really trying to understand my little nephew's reactions, and observe how he was acquiring his information, because I wanted to be the one with the magic touch -- the baby whisperer. Unfortunately, I failed with the rest of them. I realize that a lot of the cries come from sheer discomfort, but there was no clear way to differentiate these from the more complex desires that are unfolding in relation to the world at hand. A newborn seems to want to just feed and have a change once in awhile, but people learn fast. In a mere four months, Théo has become increasingly intrigued with the world around him, but that also means he's quickly realized his current powerlessness in relation to that world. It seems horrible, but I guess it's a good motivator to learn. It's a funny route to mastery, but nature's astounding in its adaptations.

I also realized that I've had a vaguely similar experience in the not-so-distant past. When I would have meetings with my spectacularly brilliant doctoral supervisors, I'd occasionally be left with this aching head and sense of numbness. I'd be pretty much wiped intellectually for the rest of the day. Being a baby must be like having that feeling all the time. Every second of every day, without a break except for when you pass out from sheer exhaustion. Brain hurt is the feeling of having to make all of your connections from scratch, without a single concept to hang them on. Everything is invention, and that is a ton of work. Being a baby must be infinitely harder than getting a PhD, and yet pretty much everyone seems to manage it. It's kind of amazing how well it actually works.

Anyway, kudos to my in-laws for toughing it out through what must be a very difficult phase for everyone. They're doing a great job, and I can only dream of showing the patience and dedication they do when my time comes. Indeed, kudos to anyone who's currently making it though this phase!

I pride myself on being a relatively self-controlled and competent individual. When I was teaching university English classes, I showed up and gave a passable lecture no matter what was going on in my personal life. I never let the two ooze together, and that was the result of years of training. When I was off-the-cuff, it was usually strategic, and a part of my more general bumbling professor schtick. Not to say that I was calculating, but I knew what I was doing.

So there I was the other morning, sitting down for breakfast with my in-laws, gabbing away about life and all of our baby excitement. I was watching Vince, my brother-in-law, strolling around and patting baby Théo on the back to calm him down. My mind started wandering. I was pre-coffee, so I was probably a little on the dopey side. Lis and her sister and mom were talking about babies and the joys of different holidays and get-togethers. I was envisioning all of it as if I was there, how lovely it would be to see little Théo and our baby playing away on Christmas morning.

In fact, I was so into my little daydream, that I said our baby's name out loud.

As soon as I said it I tried to stuff it back in my mouth by covering it with both hands. My eyes went huge. But alas, no, I had let the secret slip. At first I was the only one who realized what was going on, but then my sister-in-law clued in and started laughing. Everyone was happy and they liked the name, but God I felt like an dumb dumb. That's just not my styles, though I joined in the yuks afterward. What else was I going to do?

I don't know if others have had a similar experience, but we were (and still are) pretty guarded about the name for a couple of reasons. First and foremost, we didn't want to get scooped. It would suck if every second kid in our little one's class had the same name. We did meticulous Google research to make sure that our name was not the most popular one of the year (I pity all the mini Ryan Goslings, for example; I myself was one of 14 Ryan O'Neals in my high school). We also liked the idea of keeping the name our own little secret, just to let it soak in over the next couple of months. My wife was totally cool with my goof-up, as she tends to be about these things, but I still felt like a dimwit. By contrast, I had her engagement ring beside my bed for a month and she still never saw it coming. I must be gettin' old in my old age.

On a slightly grander note, it's funny how having a baby involves this process of unveilings. First you get your initial ultrasound. For us the baby was about the size of a kidney bean and the only distinguishable feature was a heartbeat. Then we got our second ultrasound, where we got to see actual features: a head, hands, feet. After that, we found out the sex, which was, if you read my post, just an amazingly mind-blowing experience. In the future we'll reveal the name and of course the baby himself to the world. Each one of these unveilings seems more astounding than the previous one, and it's cool because the impact of each comes as a complete surprise. I can't wait to see what happens next.

So I went to visit my nephew Théo over the weekend, and I have to say, he’s pretty much the cutest baby I’ve ever seen in person. Of course I'm a little biased because of the close family connection, but seriously, this baby is objectively adorable. Not that it's a competition or anything, but he would totally win against everyone (except Zoe, Georgia, Henry, Lola, and all the other friend / family babies, who would obviously tie perfectly evenly).

Think that's an ad beside this paragraph? It's not. That's my nephew. Théodore.

There is one thing, though. He seems to be a little, uh, on the cranky side. We're constantly getting emails with pictures like the one featured here, and so I naturally assume he is the most relaxed, smiley, chilling little baby you've ever seen. In person, he's a little more... exhausting. I love him to pieces and so do his parents, but I'm learning that a baby, beautiful or not, looks like a ton of work. Like, more than you can handle no matter how hard you try. Like... a lot.

Somehow, stupidly, I thought my wife and I would be able to buck the trend. I secretly thought we'd be the parents who would find tons of time to do our art, pursue our whimsical interests, and trot across the globe like it wasn't nobody's business. But Théo's parents are smart. Way smarter than me. And they're tired. I'm honestly feeling a little freaked out right now. When they say that every second of every day is taken up with your baby, they're not just overstating it for effect. It's the cold, hard facts.

So where did I get this image of the jet-setting, urbane, style-god, time-laden parents from? I'm going to cry marketers on this one. If you're trying to sell a product to exhausted parents, naturally you don't want it to look like it's going to make your baby miserable.  So you chose the happiest, healthiest little one you can find, and you put him or her in front of the product, and it sells itself. Ad magic. The thing is, like a lot of ads, this strategy might make you think you're doing something wrong when you compare it to the reality of your own life. You're not. The reality is that while there's a ton of love and care involved with raising a little one, there's also a ton of crankiness and exhaustion on all sides. There's a deep love, but on the surface it can sound like "GAAAAH! Why did I make you?"

Théo's picture looks like an ad for "have babies", but buyers beware. Babies come with a lot of strings attached. You're supposed to always follow that line up with "it's worth it", but I'm not going to say that. The fact is that life is much more complicated than a simple catch-phrase or two can handle. Saying something's "worth it" reduces complexity to an economic exchange, and having a baby is so much more than simple economics. I think "life prevails" might be a more accurate way of describing what I saw this weekend. We'll go with that for now. Our little one's life is in the process of unfolding and prevailing, and while I now know I can kiss my time goodbye for the next few years, I can always remind myself that my own life has prevailed its own unique and interesting way, and I wouldn't exchange it for anything.

So we went for our 5 month ultrasound today, and here's what they told us:

Ten Fingers, ten toes. A steady 132bpm heartbeat and healthy blood circulation. Four well developed heart chambers. Good kidneys. Healthy brain development (anterior and posterior). A full rack of ribs. Good bone development. Good body symmetry. Two closed eyes. A button nose. Mouth slightly open. Hands that wave for the camera. Long skinny legs. Estimated weight of .33 kgs (.73lbs). Transverse positioning. A slightly low placenta, but within healthy range. I feel like I'm forgetting something else....

Oh, right: IT'S A BOY!

I can't even tell you how crazy awesome it was to hear those words. I honestly can't. My brain couldn't process it. I felt like I was trying to suddenly fathom every possible outcome of that vital piece of information at the same time. I felt like my brain couldn't fit all of the thoughts that were flying through it. It's a freakin' boy. That means I even know his name. I know my son's name. DO YOU UNDERSTAND!? DO YOU?

One of the things I learned during my PhD studies was to never write sentences in all caps. No matter how excited you are or how much you want to communicate a point, never cap it up. Unfortunately for my doctoral side, I've transcended excitement today. This is something I've never imagined feeling. Lower case letters are just TOO SMALL FOR THIS MUCH HAPPY! I thought I might be sad that it wasn't the opposite of whatever sex it turned out to be, but honestly we're both just too ecstatic about envisioning our little boy's life with us. Holy.

We found out that we'll get one more ultrasound later in the pregnancy because of the low placenta. The only possible repercussion if it stays low is that my wife will need to get a caesarian. Other than that, all's well. I wish I could say something more clever right now, but this level of happy is going to take some time to process. I might not be able to post tomorrow, as we're out of town for some travels, but I'll try to sneak in something tomorrow evening (because I know you all sit around Friday nights just waiting to read this blog).

What a day! I started a new section in the forums called "What It Was like to Find Out Your Baby's Sex?" Feel free to sign up and share your story!

The past couple of days, I've hardly been able to contain myself about our upcoming move to Vancouver. I've been scrambling to try and put together some kind of job out there, and no progress on that front yet, but the excitement just trumps any worry. The fact is, I believe things will work out if I keep putting in the effort. They always have before, and why would that change now?

I also realized last night I tend to base decisions on intuition rather than specifics. Before you say "ugh, hippie", I'd like to point out a key argument from Malcolm Gladwell's Blink: Experts calculate a huge number of variables and details subconsciously when they make snap decisions, and in many cases tend to make better decisions than when they reason things out specifically. I can confirm this from experience: my decision making (and communication) track-record actually tends to be abysmal when I get too involved in details. It's pretty decent otherwise.

God, but enough about me. The other reason I've been floating several inches above the ground for the past few days is that we go for out 5-month ultrasound tomorrow, and I can't wait to see how much the baby's grown since last time we saw it. As I mentioned the other day, it's somewhere around 10 inches from head to toe. We're also going to find out the sex tomorrow, which is, for lack of a better phrase, fucking bonkers. No longer will I have to do the "he or she" dance I've been grooving to for the past five months. I'm totally hip to the sex does not equal gender thing, but pronoun-neutral sentence constructions are just awks.

That also means that Lis and I will know the name tomorrow, though you'll have to wait until the big day to find that one out. I get a little overwhelmed when I ponder it too closely. It's crazy to have one version of the baby disappear and the other take centre stage. Until this point it's pretty much been Schroedinger's baby. Life is so weird. I love it. Did I mention that at all in this post?  I feel like I must have.

If I'm not too lazy and/or busy tomorrow, I'll scan and post some photos from the ultrasound. Until then, rock on.

I occasionally use a service called HARO, which stands for Help a Reporter Out. It's basically a website and emailing list that allows you to contribute your experience and expertise to local and national news stories. If your suggestion gets picked up, it's a really cool way to get some free exposure for whatever you're doing or working on. It 's also just a good way to get your name out there.

I thought that this might be a good way to promote Baby Daddy Blog. I sit here writing stories about parenting and pregnancy nearly every day, and I really like to explore the topic. I bring a lot of cultural knowledge and expertise as a former university teacher. I even have a handful of regular readers (about 100, if you're wondering). So what's the issue? It's that dads apparently shouldn't have anything to say about raising kids.

It's nothing wrong with HARO. They're really nothing more than a platform to put reporters and experts in touch. It's the news producers themselves. Every news query I've seen about parenting is either directed at doctors, psychologists, or moms. Dads are nowhere to be seen in discussions of parenting, and I think that's a real shame, because I know for a fact that there are a lot of caring, insightful fathers out there who actively care about and participate in their children's upbringing. Not me, but they're out there.

Now I get that the majority of kids are still raised by their mothers, but to assume that all of them are, or that fathers don't want to participate in parenting discussions is a real loss. Some kids have two dads. Some kids have one dad and no mom. Some kids are raised on a commune. By excluding a wide range of perspectives from mainstream discussions, we're allowing historical bias to pointlessly sculpt a supposedly more enlightened and educated present. I know that marketers obviously want to target a coherent group when it comes to parents, but it's a shame when it starts limiting who can say what. I say open the doors and let in as many voices as possible (and not just as curiosities or special interest pieces).

Let's bust this world wide open!

I remember when I was in grad school, being confronted with assignments that forced me to see the world form perspectives with which I thought I'd have little in common. What did I know about African or lesbian writers, say? Could I even ethically say anything? It took a lot of work to get into these assignments, but they turned out to be some of the most interesting and educational topics I've worked on. They expanded my sense of self. By being more inclusive in discussions of parenting, who knows what great new collaborative or alternate ideas we'd come up with?

I wish people would stop labeling parenting products "mommy this" and "mommy that". My wife and I saw a "mommy calendar" in Staples the other day, and she was seriously mad about it (and I felt her pain). She said it was absolving dads of all responsibility, and she was right. What message does it send that moms are the only ones responsible for appointments, classes, sports, etc.? What does a mommy calendar teach our kids? Needless to say, we will not be purchasing the mommy calendar.

Anyway, I could go on and on, but I'll leave it there for now. Feel free to weigh in in the comments.