It's finally starting to feel a little more real.
Nursery prep is well under way, with a second coat of paint going on as soon as I finish writing this post. Yesterday I organized baby clothes into bins by size, getting them ready to be washed. There's a baby shower on the horizon. We've been given a date that our surrogate will be induced.
Things are moving full speed ahead.
And being the typical reader/researcher/blog stalker that I am, I've been reading everything I can about infants and newborns. One day I came across information about Infant CPR. I figured it couldn't hurt, right? And when I mentioned that Mr. KK and I were going to take this class, the four grandparents-to-be all raised their hands and wanted in.
And immediately asked where we were going for brunch afterwards.
So one sunny, summer Sunday, the six of drove to Yale and entered what would be our CPR classroom for the next 4 hours. Here we were, 6 of the 8 spots in the class and not one of us was pregnant. We definitely received an arched eyebrow from the instructor, until we filled her in.
I had taken CPR in high school when I was working at our town's summer camps. I remember the big dummy 'Annie' lying on the floor, a group of teenagers huddled around her, taking turns blowing into her mouth, then wiping it clean with an alcohol swab, shaking her and yelling, "Are you all right? Are you all right? HELP! HELP! Call 911!"
Guess what? It's no different. Except 'Annie' is now 'Baby Anne' and she's the size of a Cabbage Patch Doll. And while the CPR videos have been updated, they apparently had their casting call for actors from B-movie rejects.
We all survived, and brunch afterwards was delish – crab cake benny with a chilled sav blanc.
Cheers to Baby Anne!
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