Hurst's First – An Adventure in Having a Baby

It’s a Girl!

If you look closely, she’s sucking her thumb!

We got nearly 100% confirmation on Tuesday, at 23 weeks along, that we are having a baby girl!

We are both very excited, especially because mother and daughter are doing well at this stage and we’re happy to share all of that news with everyone!


“I miss acting like idiots”


It wasn’t until one night, a “date night” that I realized how difficult part of this pregnancy has been for Suzanne.

Perhaps naively I always thought that the pregnant woman is so overjoyed about impending motherhood that she is only concerned about the baby and her health and not much else matters.

Eat healthy. Exercise moderately. Live correctly. That seemed to be it. And she seemed to be fine doing those things.

However, as I ordered a glass of wine with my dinner, she said something that took me aback.

“I miss acting like idiots.”

I knew exactly what she meant.

Loading up on liquor was one of the most fun things we did in our lives together. Bottomless mimosa brunches, free drinks from our bartender friends, sitting at home with a cocktail and then dusting a bottle of wine with dinner, pitchers of beer, followed by more pitchers of beer on football Sundays.

Those things led to dancing in our living room, beer pong at a dive bar, taking shots or Irish car bombs and really good, heavily-buzzed conversations.

Were we really idiots or were we just enjoying our twenties and early thirties without having to be responsible for anything other than finding a burrito at 2 am?

In the lead-up to this portion of the pregnancy I had read several items in books about the husband’s role over the nine months. Many of them said the same things: thanks for your seed, now get out of the way, but be supportive and try cutting back on your drinking.

So I asked Suzanne if she felt that way.

“Honey, it’s weird enough that I’m not drinking. It would be even weirder if both of us weren’t drinking.”

If that isn’t true love, then I don’t know what is.

Not too distant future.

But, honestly, I miss my drinking partner. She was the best. Sitting and listening to music with each other and a cocktail on the deck was something we each enjoyed as the sun set on another beautiful day.

When you lift your glass, think of Suzanne. Make a promise to yourself that you’ll buy her a drink when the time comes.

Me? I look forward to putting on a baby Bjorn, toting around Junior Hurst in the house with a beer in one hand, a glass of wine in my wife’s and hoping some good music comes on so we can wobble together – the three of us – on our living room dance floor.

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It’s A … Pain in the Ass

Monday was the day we were supposed to find out if we were buying pink stuff or blue stuff.

We spent all weekend thinking about it – not in a worrisome, hand-wringing sort of way, but in a “What could it be?” sort of way. It was fun, but it definitely kept our brains preoccupied.

So, Monday morning there seemed to be a little bit of electricity in Hurst Castle as we both anticipated seeing our baby’s ultrasound. I don’t know if either of us have been so excited at the prospect of seeing genitalia since our second or third date.

We arrive at the ultrasound technician’s office and … we’re told we cannot go in.


Apparently, our insurance doesn’t cover this particular ultrasound technician.

Yup, after weeks of waiting to find out if our baby is healthy and growing right and has an in faucet or an out faucet, we have to wait some more. Know why? Because the receptionists at our obstetrician’s office don’t know how to read insurance forms.

We are covered by an HMO. We have been for years. Apparently, the H and M looked like a P and a P to the OB’s assistants. So, PPO’s get ultrasounds all day at this place. HMO’s are homeless.

I called the OB’s office. I was told I must have changed my insurance. I told her she was a liar.

This isn’t the first snafu we’ve had with our insurance since moving down to Los Angeles County. In Santa Barbara it was easy – they had Samsung and Cottage Hospital. That was it and they worked together. If you had a doctor’s appointment, it was covered … all you had to figure out was which one of three places it was at.

While LA is infinitely bigger, it just means more hoops to jump through.

Now, I know it’s not the insurance’s fault that we changed jobs mid-pregnancy. Hey, that’s life, right? But how come I’ve had to call four times to make sure we’re covered; or be told we couldn’t see a doctor until Oct. 1 early in September; had to deal with a crying wife at a doctor’s appointment when they said she wasn’t covered, only to make a phone call and prove that we were; had to log online and change plans again; had to see that we weren’t covered for about 12 hours because of the UCSB to UCLA transfer; and then call in the morning and have them change it. Why does it have to be so difficult? Why am I better at all of their jobs than they are?

This just puts another feather in their caps. Insurance is like cleaning the toilet: you don’t want to deal with it because it’s shitty, but you know at some point you have to.

So here we are, with the baby at 21 weeks old (that’s five months and one week) and we still don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl; healthy or not; growing well or with it’s leg coming out where it’s arm is supposed to be.

At least Suzanne is feeling kicks. So she’s got that going for her. Which is nice.

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And the countdown begins …

20 Weeks – Halfway there!

I just hit my 20 week mark and well…whatever it’s just another week, right?  HAHAHA … riiiiiiight.  That’s what I thought initially … “Oh … 20 weeks … cool”.  And then it hits me. It may have been the multiple updates I received from my prego iphone app … actually, I KNOW that’s what it was.

“Congratulations … You’re 20 weeks … You’re HALF WAY THROUGH YOUR PREGNANCY!”  Whooohoo.  Wait … WHAT?  Hold the phone.  I’m at my half way point?!?  I feel like I just started to look pregnant and not just chunky and I’m just beginning to adjust and somewhat come to terms with the fact that I can’t eat (OR DRINK) everything I want and I’m half way through??  Part of me started to celebrate and then the other part of me started to panic a little bit.  Ok, A LOT a bit.

The side of me that was celebrating was excited about being that much closer to meeting this little life growing in my belly … excited about going back to being able to eat and drink what I want and be able to be myself again … excited about no more crying (at least not from me) and most of all, excited about no more being uncomfortable all the time in one way or another … I can go back to being myself.  Or can I?  I know all those parents reading this right now are laughing.

Yes I can go back to being myself but….noooooo, not really. We’re going to have a BABY.  That changes everything.  Then all the questions start to pop up in my head.  Am I ready for this? Can I handle being a mom? Emotionally … financially?  Matt and I are so great together by ourselves and that’s all we’ve known.  How are we going to be with a baby?  I’ve heard so many stories and not all of them good and it’s scary to say the least.

I keep thinking…well, I have 20 more weeks to figure it out.  And people keep telling me, that you’re never really ever perfectly 100% ready for a baby.  You feel like you can always be richer … In a better place with life … in a bigger apartment, what no, I want to be in a HOUSE!  And the list goes on and on.  I am the kind of person that can keep going and going until my head is about to explode and then I can’t let it go.  I have a dwelling problem. I’m a dweller.  There I said it.  I can admit my imperfections.

I mean, if this crazy chick can have a baby, I certainly can, right?!

And I continue to think about these things but it’s not keeping me up at night.  They are just there in the back of my head driving me to be better at everything and I’m trying.  It’s a work in progress and I admit I am no where near having all the answers or even any of them for that fact.  But I know there are others who have done this before me who haven’t been as fortunate as myself.  They didn’t have a loving, supportive husband … they didn’t have a great family & friends to call upon for advice and help … and they didn’t have a job or were struggling to make a living.  And yet they made it work even under the most unthinkable circumstances which reminds me of how blessed I am.

So I resolve (and often times I have to keep reminding myself) to take it one day at a time and not get too caught up in the “what if’s”, the “are we’s” and the “am I’s.”  This is oh so very difficult for me so like I said, I have to keep reminding myself …  but remind myself I do!  It will all work out and I just have to trust in myself and have a little bit of faith!

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