It is my understanding that my child can now hear sounds outside the womb. I’m not sure if what he hears is clear or if it’s muted and convoluted seeing as how he’s swimming in amniotic fluid right now. I imagine Davey being like Captain Nemo and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea or perhaps the voices he hears sound like the school teacher from The Peanuts, who knows? Either way, I still can’t help but wonder just how clear the words are that he’s hearing, plus can he comprehend the meaning of those words? If so, I may have to get ear muffs for my belly to prevent him from hearing some of the foul language going on in my office! The words “virgin ears” bring on a whole new meaning now.

So, now that I know Davey can hear, I’ve decided to test out his auditory senses. Many websites and even my sister-in-law, who is a pediatric nurse, have started recommending that I read to Davey on a regular basis. Apparently, the sound of my voice is soothing and reassuring to my child. I question this as I’ve heard myself speak and it actually sounds dull and monotonous. It’s nothing that I feel is all that welcoming and inviting. My sister-in-law says that if I read one book or one story to Davey on a regular basis then the cognitive side of his brain will process and retain the story and it’s possible that he make kick along each time.

This week I stopped into Barnes and Noble and picked up a couple of children’s books on the discount rack. I drove back to my office and realized I still had about 15 minutes left on my lunch break. I parked my car and turned off the radio. I grabbed the first book from the bag, “Fire Cat” and proceeded reading the book. I did my best to imitate the voices of the characters, trying to inflict some level of emotion into my voice to encourage a reaction from my son, but I got nothing! Apparently, Davey doesn’t like my voice or perhaps his hearing isn’t as acute as I originally thought. The gentleman sitting in the car alongside me; however, did seem to appreciate my futile attempts as I forgot I had my window open (pregnancy dementia, see previous blog) and he actually clapped at the end of my reading. I smiled at him awkwardly before rolling up my window.

Later that evening, I began writing my “Pregnancy Dementia” blog. While writing it, I watched the Top 20 Best in Hip-Hop Videos on Fuse. Here is what I determined about my son…..he seems to be a big fan of late 90s and early 2000s hip-hop and rap music. Everything from Outkast to Nelly and even Notorious B.I.G. had him jumping! Of course I thought this was a fluke until the next day when I threw on some Coolio, Snoop Dogg, and Tupac. It’s almost as if Davey is trying to keep beat with the rhythm as he kicks and taps along in my belly! I love it! So, my husband and I were on our road trip to Rochester, NY this weekend and I decided to once again test out my theory by trying different types of music to see if he has an aversion to any genre. I suppose a part of me should feel bad for treating my son like a controlled substance in a lab exposed to variables, but how else am I supposed to determine what sort of music he likes? And for those of you who may be doubters, the thought has crossed my mind about how do I really know if he’s enjoying the music or just reacting to the sound in general, but so far every kick and punch from him has felt different, almost rhythmic. Until I know for sure, I’m just going to stick to the theory that Davey is a rap and hip-hop fan as no other music elicits any sort of reaction.

Alright, I have to go. Wreckx n Effect’s Rump Shaker just came on and Davey is wide awake! I’m sure my insides will be bruised before he’s born.

I was beginning to think I was a mutant and not just physically thanks to the morphing of my body from slender and toned to pear and flabby, but because of how quickly my mind has been changing. I’ve never been one to really make to-do lists or set up outlook reminders on my calendars. I’ve never needed those things before. My mind has always been sharp as a blade, fully intact and attuned to everything that is occurring. Don’t get me wrong, wit hasn’t exactly been my forte, but I at least held a lot greater comebacks than what I do now! So, I decided to do some research and check into this anomaly that is apparently known by many as “pregnancy dementia”.

According to WebMD, dementia is the loss of mental functions – such as thinking, memory, and reasoning – that is severe enough to interfere with a person’s daily functioning. It is not a disease, but rather a group of symptoms that can be attributed to other diseases or illnesses. Pregnancy dementia is a non-medical term used to describe the memory loss or lapses associated with a woman’s chemical and hormonal imbalances while pregnant. Obviously being a first time mother this means I’ve never experienced pregnancy dementia before. The first thought to come into my mind at the fact that I can’t seem to remember how to tie my shoe is, “Is this baby making me dumber?” So, I decided to do a little research on this baby blaming, mind draining phenomenon. I actually asked other women, including my customers whom I’ve never met before, if they’ve experienced this and what I got was a resounding, YES!

Pregnancy dementia has many other names, a couple of which include, “pregnancy brain” and “baby dumb”. I’ve read that this can actually last for up to a year after giving birth and I have to admit that scares the patookie out of me! I have 3 freakin’ college degrees for crying out loud and I can’t even remember how to balance my checkbook! Ok, that’s a little extreme, but at the rate Davey is sucking my brain cells out of me I can’t help but worry that something as basic as that will actually vacate my brain. My desk at work used to be clean and organized. Now I have yellow post-it notes all over my monitor as reminder to my notes in my computer system which is a back up to my outlook calendar! I now have a back up to my back up just so that I can remember to do things. And here’s the sad part…..I’m having to eat my words at least where my husband is concerned. He now accuses me of not listening to him anymore, which is something I’ve always accused him of, but truthfully I can’t remember the conversations we’ve had an hour earlier! It’s so embarrassing. Before I leave for work every morning, I find myself walking back up my stairs again (hey at least I’m getting my exercise, right?) just to make sure I have unplugged my straightening iron. I can no longer find my keys, remember to write a check to church every Sunday morning, or even my own father’s birthday! Our friends want my husband and I to join them on Wednesday nights for trivia, but what I won’t admit to them (which they’re going to find out now….wait! is this part of pregnancy dementia in action now????) is that I don’t want to go to trivia because I feel like a total dunce! Sorry, friends! Don’t be upset.

The question that comes to mind when thinking about pregnancy dementia is what exactly causes this? It’s so frustrating especially where my writing is concerned because I feel like I can’t even communicate what I’m thinking or feeling anymore at least not in the written language. I feel like my brain is all over th place and moving in opposite directions, so once again…..WHAT CAUSES THIS????? According to the very limited research that has occurred with pregnancy dementia, it is usually triggered by self-induced stress which can be nothing more than the feverish attempts to get all of my nesting completed before I give birth. So, I suppose I should try to relax a bit more and maybe my pre-pregnancy brain will come back to me.

On the plus side of things, while writing this blog I have found that certain aspects of my pre-pregnancy brain are still in tact. I’m listening to FUSE’s 20 Hottest Hip Hop Videos and I’ve found I still know all the words to Enimem’s “Slim Shady”, Tupac Shakur’s “Changes”, Snoop Dogg’s “What’s My Name”, and L.L. Cool J.’s “Momma Said Knock You Out”. There’s hope, right?

Have any of you ever had an out-of-body experience? I’m sure we’ve all heard about one or even read about one, but what percentage of us can actually say they have experienced this phenomenon? An out-of-body experience is not a scientifically proven phenomenon, although it has been simulated by scientists before in a controlled lab. While 1 in 10 people claim to have been through an out-of-body experience, mostly during near death situations, it is not unusual for the average person to experience this as well. For those of you unaware, an out-of-body experience typically involves a floating sensation outside of one’s body, in other words, the perception of one’s physical body from a place outside of that body. Now that we’ve cleared up exactly what an OBE (out-of-body experience) is, I know for a fact that I have experienced this and not just in a sleep or dream state, but while I’m driving down the road and I can’t help but wonder if my OBE is attributed to my pregnancy hormones.

At least once a week, but in most cases four or five times, I find myself in hysterical sobs that I can’t control. At times I can’t even breathe and I feel like my heart could stop due to the sheer panic of the sobs interfering with my breathing. And on quite a few of these occasions, I have felt like I have floated above my body watching myself break down, unable to really do anything to stop it. I try to console myself, even hearing myself say that I shouldn’t be crying like this and what exactly has gotten me so upset? I suppose this is one of the many hormonal side effects.

I’ve heard stories about women who create almost a whole new personality during pregnancy. Their poor husbands and partners experience something unlike anything they’ve ever seen before. A few of these husbands have actually told me that they’ve thought their wives were possessed and that an exorcism would need to be performed. I literally had a double take when I heard these words because the thoughts that were floating through my brain, were “really? Can it be that bad?” Well, I’m here to say “yes”.

My husband hasn’t had the luxury *insert sarcasm* to experience a devil possessed Amy, but what he has experienced has been just as trying on his nerves as it has been mine. It seems that the slightest thing will make me cry. I can no longer watch a commercial about a 70 something year old man who hasn’t slept with his wife in year’s because he can’t make it up the stairs anymore. Que the chair that climbs the stairs, and now my tears are ones of joy and happiness, but they’re still tears!!!!! I can easily walk out of work, climb in my car and then the floods I’ve been holding back all day break through the dams and I’m a flowing mess the entire way home. And as soon as I walk in the door, my husband see’s my best Tammy Faye Baker with mascara streaming down my cheeks. Immediately I begin to cry even harder because now I’ve upset him. And when he comes to hug me that’s usually the point I start to have my out-of-body experience.

I’ve never been able to watch SPCA commercials or even the movies “The Notebook” or “Steel Magnolias” without crying, but since I’ve been pregnant my emotional state has been one non stop roller coaster ride that I never need a ticket to board. Reading the newspaper makes me cry. Watching a commercial with a lady who falls and can’t get up, elicits emotions out of me equal to the magnitude of finding out my brother had leukemia. And I can’t help but wonder, is this normal? Is this a good or bad thing for the baby or does my child not feel anything from my emotional state. These days I try to steer clear of anything that is going to make me cry and apparently The Billboard Music Awards is something that I need to stop watching as it’s making me cry while typing this! As a matter of fact, I’m convinced that I’m about to have another out-of-body experience as I try to calm myself from crying over spilled milk. Ok, that was an exaggeration, but it’s almost like I’m a ticking bomb where the waterworks are concerned. Am I the only one who goes through this and if not, has anyone else out there experienced a state of constant sobs while pregnant and how long has it lasted?

Every mother tells me to sleep when I can, to enjoy the fact that I was so tired during my first trimester and that I was able to sleep so much. I’ve laughed at a few of them considering the fact that sleep is one of the few things I loathe with a passion. I don’t like sleep because it is quite literally the most unproductive thing in the world. I’ve even found myself questioning why God couldn’t create us to not EVER sleep, but it is a futile question. I’ll never have an answer to that and it is what it is, we were created this way. So, now I’m five months along in my pregnancy and while I do have a lot more energy than I did during the first three months, I still find myself falling asleep around 9:30 at night. And here is where I am in my conundrum.

Being pregnant, I actually enjoy sleep. I look forward to having my mid afternoon naps on Saturdays and Sundays. I long for a night that I can sleep all the way through. I’ve even managed to find a way to still remain in a slumber like state while going to the bathroom in the middle night, so that I can climb back in bed and fall back to sleep pretty easily. This week; however, I’ve found myself in a different light.

Davey has decided to make himself known to me on a nightly, or should I say morning, basis. I usually fall asleep to his kicking at night. It’s soothing and calming and brings about a sense of peace that I’ve never experienced before. It overshadows my typically selfish nature as I can’t help but smile knowing this is my boy inside of me and he’s nudging me as if to say “I love you, Mom,” or “thanks for taking care of me, Mom.” I feel like these little kicks and jabs are his way of communicating with me and they have created a bond that I never once thought I would experience. Unfortunately, Davey usually wakes me up with his punches and jabs around 3 every morning and here’s where I’m in a pickle. I want to sleep. I need to sleep, but I also need to feel my son.

There’s a part of me that wants to be angry because Davey is waking me up. I find myself pleading with him to let me have these nights of sleep because I’m afraid I won’t have them when he arrives. Problem is, I feel guilty pleading for him to stop his love taps because again it’s his way of bonding with me. When he wakes me at 3 in the mornings, I allow myself to stay awake, encouraging it as a matter of fact because I love feeling him. I just wish he would kick more often during the day and let me sleep at night.

Either way, I look forward to the night-time as it is when he is most active and I can’t wait until the day that his daddy can feel his little nudges.

I’ve spent a good portion of my life convincing myself that I had no maternal instinct, that my biological clock was broken.   If I had that natural desire to be a mother inside of me, I would have been a mother before now.   I have watched other children, thinking they were adorable, sweet, and innocent, but they weren’t mine which was perfect.   I could ooh and aah over them, spoil them rotten, and then give them back.   It was the perfect set up, and the best part…..I didn’t get attached to them!    I anguished over the older children as they tried to speak to me and I couldn’t understand a single syllable coming from their mouths.  I would feel like an idiot as I desperately sought a rescue from their mother to help translate what their little bundle of joy was saying.   And here’s the crazy thing, every mother seemed to know EXACTLY what their child was saying.   How the heck was I ever going to be a mother when I couldn’t understand a single word my kid was saying?

So, I’ve spent quite a few years adding up all of these variables and I have finally determined that I would suck at motherhood.   Let’s add even more to this.   I don’t like the smell of poo and when someone else vomits, I have an automatic gag reflex.  I don’t know that I’m going to be able to handle my child peeing in my face, which I’m sure will happen at some point.   And then there’s the whole lacking patience quality.  What if my child doesn’t sleep?  What if he cries all the time?   And worse still what if he’s sick all the time?  All of this is of course also feeding my neurosis I blogged about before.   So on more than one occasion, I’ve found myself asking the question…..Will I be a good mommy?

My husband is awesome.  He does his typical husband and father to be duties by quickly reminding me how smart I am and how big my heart is.   I will be a wonderful mother, according to him.   My own mother has told me there will be changes, adjustments to my lifestyle, but that I will handle being a mother like I handle everything else…..I will get through it and I will be better than I give myself credit for, but I still have my doubts and my worries.  Take for example unruly kids.  I like to talk about how other people’s kids can drive me insane, especially those with parents who let them roam free.  You all know the ones I’m talking about.  They’re the ones with kids who grab a slice of pizza off of your plate and take it back to their seat, 3 tables away.   This usually elicits my best Tom Hanks “A League of Their Own” impersonation when dealing with those kids.  It’s not exactly the kids’ fault, though, considering their oblivious parents who are more concerned with themselves as opposed to their children.    And that’s when I stop myself and wonder, can I do this?   Can I be a mother?   There’s no turning back now and I’ll have to push my fears and insecurities aside.   I imagine breaking down the way Charlotte did in Sex and the City 2, when her oldest daughter smacked her in the butt with red hands while Charlotte was trying to stop her youngest daughter from crying.  Charlotte was wearing vintage white pants that were forever ruined thanks to her child.   She snaps at her daughter before locking herself in the pantry to cry.   I worry that I may have an emotional breakdown at some point as well, and if so will I be able to handle it?

“A mother will always sacrifice for her child.   No longer does her comfort and happiness matter as much as that of her child.”  

 I still have months to go before giving birth to Davey and while I’m sure I have made unconscious sacrifices for Davey, I am now officially making my first conscious sacrifice for my child. 

I read an article this week concerning the growth of my unborn child.   At this point, he is already able to hear sounds and even swallow.   His brain is developing and he even has hair forming along with toenails and fingernails.   One of the more interesting things I read concerned my child’s already developing taste buds.   My child can taste the food that I’m eating.   The article went out to explain that if I wanted my child to have a more diverse diet then I needed to have a diverse diet as well.   For those of you who know me, my diet is mostly dominated by the meat group as I’m not a big fan of the fruits and veggies.   Well, in the name of my child’s health and I suppose it won’t be such a bad thing for my health eitherl, I have decided to partake in more vegetables during my meals.  

The first example of this was last night when my husband made crab cakes, one of my favorite things to eat, and a side of spaghetti squash.   I’m not really sure what I was expecting with spaghetti squash but the noodle type substance I was forcing myself to swallow wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.   I guess I hear the word “spaghetti” and I start thinking marinara or meat sauce.  I don’t think about a vegetable.   As I ate my crab cake, I mixed in bites of spaghetti squash thinking the entire time, “Davey, this is for you and I do hope you appreciate it.”   After a torturous few minutes of this (for both me and my husband as he had to watch me gag each time I forced myself to swallow a bite), my husband took the squash away from me.   He gave me a “good job” for trying and I guess I should give myself that as well, but I am disappointed.   After all, I should be sacrificing for my child, every book and every mother tells me this, but for some reason I couldn’t keep it up last night.  

I will try again maybe even with spaghetti squash as my husband has stated that he’ll find new ways to make it.  I’m determined that my child won’t grow up like I did, on a limited diet of meats, potatoes, and starches.   Plus I have this hidden desire to actually make some of his baby food, but that’s another blog for another day.  In the meantime, I’ll continue to sacrifice consciously and unconsciously for my child.  I just hope they get easier, which I’m told they won’t.   And yes, I’m well aware of my drama already.  🙂

I couldn’t hear it at first, but I could see it through his body.   I watched it pump and move up and down in a rhythmic motion that could lull me to sleep.    It wasn’t the first time I’d seen his heart and it wouldn’t be the last, but there was something truly magical and deeply emotional for me today when I watched Davey’s beating heart on the ultrasound screen.  

I’ve held many children in my life, cuddling them and snuggling with them, stealing some of their kisses meant for their mommies and daddies and I’ve loved them.   I’ve loved them in a way a child should always be loved, they are innocents and gifts of God.   They are by far some of the sweetest and most cherished things within the human world.   I’ve experienced love in my life, every level and every form of it, but I found a new love today watching my son.  

We still have a little over 19 weeks before we can hold him in our arms and I’m sure my love for him at that point will be greater.   As the ultrasound progressed today, a full 15 minutes with 3-D images and a mini-DVD movie to match, I could see my sons legs, long and lean with beautiful calf muscles already forming.   I giggled as I watched him tap his left foot as if he were keeping time with the beat of some unknown song, perhaps one that he has heard me sing or one that he’s created in his own mind.   I told my husband the image on the screen was definitely my son.  I am an eternal foot-tapper.  

I counted his toes, 5 on each foot, 10 total, and watched as he moved his hand up to his eye almost as if rubbing the sleep out of it.   His cheek bones were so defined and a part of me wanted to reach up and caress them.   His body is long and lean, his head the perfect size and all in all everything about my son is perfect, according to my doctor.  And of course everything is perfect, he is MY son. 

I’ve had multiple ultrasounds since Davey’s conception thanks to my absolutely marvelous insurance plan that understands I’m considered high risk thanks to my age, but this ultrasound gave me a feeling I hadn’t experienced before.   I’ve heard my son’s heart beating, I hear it every time I’m at the doctor.   I’ve seen his body, his spine pronounced in the most recent pictures.   I’ve watched his legs kick and his arms go behind his head like he’s relaxing in a green meadow under a beautifully starry night.   I’ve watched all of this, but today I experienced a love I never thought possible.   I’ve never wanted to sacrifice so much for someone.   I’ve never wanted to protect and care for someone as much as I do with Davey.   I’ve never had someone tug at my heart-strings as much as my son.  

I was once told that if you are a selfish person by nature, that selfishness will dissipate once you hold your child for the first time.   I disagree.   I think that selfishness vacates at the sound of his first heartbeat.

Perhaps neurotic isn’t the word I’m looking for, but I’m convinced that if it were a disease I could pass it onto my son during birth, almost like through osmosis.   Maybe the amniotic fluid that he’s swimming in right now is full of a type of neurotic electrolyte that is passing into him and with each breath he takes in, those contaminated little buggers that will turn my poor child into neurotic mini version of me.   And what’s worse is that I neurotic about being neurotic!   Lord, is there any help for me?

This morning I woke up from an absolutely restful night’s sleep.   As a matter of fact, it was so restful that I began to worry that something was wrong.   Naturally, I can’t accept things as being good, forever the pessimist that I am, I always assume the worst.  I walked into the bathroom to get a shower, turned on the hot water and then stripped down in front of the mirror.  Yes, I do this!  Yes, I am constantly inspecting every little part of my body especially now that I’m pregnant.  For example, I’m convinced there’s a circle on my left breast.   It almost looks like a bruise, but the circle is much too perfect.   A geometric mathematician would be mesmerized at the perfect circumference of my boob circle!   This morning instead of obsessing over this, which by the way it is still there and I plan on having my doctor look at it during my next appointment on Wednesday, I stared at my belly.  Was it getting smaller?   Am I losing weight?  Is Davey no longer growing, or worse still am I no longer pregnant?   I literally spent a good 10 minutes looking at every little part of my abdomen.  It’s insane and the bad part about it is that I know it’s insane even when I’m doing it, but yet I still do it!   Maybe that’s an addiction and not a disease, but can’t an addiction be classified as a disease as well?   OMG!  And here’s why it’s neurotic and spastic……I GO TO THE EXTREME, almost to the point of worrying my husband. 

Most nights I wake up usually around 4 am and it’s not because I have to pee (that’s usually happened earlier in the night and I manage to stay asleep through that process), instead it’s because I’m thinking about what needs to be done at work, in the house, on my blogs, and then there’s the worry about Davey and what could go wrong with the pregnancy.   Yes, that’s right, what could go wrong because for some really illogical reason I can’t program my brain to think about anything else except for what’s going to go wrong.    Maybe it’s my way of preparing myself in case something bad DOES happen.   It’s always been my frame of mind and here’s how I rationalize my pessimism.   If I”m expecting the worst and it happens then I’m prepared, but if the good happens then, what an awesome surprise it is!   Alternatively, if I’m expecting the best and the worst happens then I’m supremely let down.   All of this compounds into the worst possible fear…….that I can pass this behavior onto my son!  Do I need an intervention?  Is there a class I can attend or maybe a NSA ( Neurotic Spastics Anonymous)?  I suppose I’ll have to come up with another acronym center a center part of our government is already using NSA. 

And then the thing that worries me as well, am I the only one who has this type of personality that frets over every little thing?   Does it change after I have a child or does it become more amplified?   And for those of you who are mothers and have personalities like mine, are your children that way as well?   How do I let it go?  Any by “it” I mean that part of my mind that has the anxiety driven neuron that causes me to turn into a personality that’s not exactly fun.   Am I going to be able to let my child have a normal childhood or is my neuroticism going to cause me to be one of those overprotective, scary, and embarrassing moms?   I certainly hope not since I once blogged about being a cool, hip, and fun mom!

I read like crazy.  Reading is one of my most favorite things to do.   I like everything from tear jerking romances, to supernatural science fiction, and even self-help books and historical pieces.    I actually already have 2 books about becoming a parent and I read them both, including the one that tells me about the first years of motherhood.    For the most part, the books are quelling any fears I have and answering most of my questions.    Unfortunately, I don’t think every question will ever be answered, which has led me to this question……should I write my own how-to manual?   And I’m not talking about a how-to manual in regards to raising a child.   I’m leaning more towards a how-to manual for being pregnant.  

Some of the questions to consider:

1.  When is it safe to have sex again?   My husband abstained for this a little longer than what we preferred because of our crazy minds.   After all we didn’t want to harm the baby.

2.  What’s the actual limit of coffee I can have on a daily basis?

3.  Is it possible to become addicted to Tylenol PM while pregnant? 

4.  Should I really sleep on my left side to help increase blood flow to the baby?

I hear so many different levels of advice from pregnant women, mothers, and even men who claim to know even more because of what their wives have experienced.   It’s becoming so overwhelming for me that I think the stress from the questions and answers actually feeds my migraines, which leads to another question….how often are migraines, especially if I’ve never experienced them before, and is it safe to take the prescribed medication from my doctor even though there is a caution about taking it if you’re pregnant.  So, the thought has crossed my mind about compiling together my own personal advice guide to help walk someone like me, an eternal worrier, through pregnancy.    It’s just an idea, but I would love to hear about some of the questions you mommies out there had during pregnancy and what answers you received.   I’m considering posting a new page with a question a week and providing medically researched answers combined with personal experience to help others like me.   So, mommies, help me out.   What do you worry about most during pregnancy?

I read an article on another one of my many pregnancy websites I subscribe to.    The website I allude to in this post is The Bump, by the creators of The Knot.   For those of you unaware, The Knot, is a website for couples who are getting married, aka tying the knot.   The creators, seizing the opportunity to take advantage of the huge following of The Knot, decided to go one step further with the natural progression of a married couple, which is to have children.   Therefore, www.thebump.com was created.  

I just joined the mailing list for this website over the weekend and today I received my first email.    I quickly perused through the headlines with nothing eye-catching, until I came across this article, “Will your baby’s name affect his career choice?”  Naturally, I immediately clicked on the link.   After all, haven’t all of us, even the ones who aren’t parents, fantasized about our children’s names?    Before I even knew I wanted to have children, I already had at least one name picked out and it was that of a little girl.    My husband and I are not being graced with a daughter just yet, but instead we are having a son.   It didn’t take much thought, or the research of  a book with children’s names in order to come up with the name David Brian.  

Many, if not all of you, know my husband’s name is David.   For me it was only a natural progression to name our son after his father, one of the greatest men in my life (next to my own dad).    My son’s middle name holds a more sentimental and significant value to me.   It is the name of my younger brother, a wonderful human being, who left us four years at the age of twenty-five after a nearly three-year battle with leukemia.  My brother was one of the kindest hearted humans you would ever meet.   His intelligence and cunning were way beyond mine and he had this infectious laugh and smile, one that everyone fell in love with.   I chose his name for my son’s second name because I have the feeling my son will have the same warm-hearted smile, and ability to love all those within this world and have them equally love him back.   My son will have my brother’s qualities because it’s impossible to not have a soul and warmness like Brian’s.    Doesn’t mean I expect him to follow the same life and career choies of my brother.   I hope to see my son outlive me, to have a family of his own.   

Do I think my son’s name will affect his career choice?   Absolutely not!   I have grand visions for my child.  I want him to have a better life than me, granted mine hasn’t been so bad.   I want him to experience life in ways I never had the ability.   I want him to see the world.   I want him to be happy, but for the most part I want my son to be who he wants to be, not who society says he should be, or his father and I want him to be.   I joke around with my husband about hoping our son is smart and athletic.   I want him to be intelligent and I want him to see things in a different view.   I also want him to be athletic so that maybe he can be a professional football player or maybe even a shortstop for the New York Yankees.   My husband and I like to joke about Davey being our retirement ticket, but it’s all in jest.  

I don’t know what the names David Brian mean, nor do I care to know because none of those meanings will ever be indicative of who my son will be or the choices he will make.   There’s no magic 8 ball to predict the future, nor some ancient Chinese proverb that’s going to guarantee what my son will be and what sort of life he will have.   I’m excited to think about his future, the fun he’ll have, the heart aches he’ll suffer, but the full life that I’m going to make sure my son has regardless as to what his name may be.