when a man loves a woman...

This past Saturday was Valentine’s Day, and, like pretty much any other particular event, it was the last (insert whatever occasion of any significance that happens annually and also occurs before the middle of June here) before we have a kid. So obviously, we went out in style.  I had a huge arrangement of flowers delivered to Rhiannon’s class and…  No.  It was Saturday.  (I did bring home a nice bouquet for her on Friday evening.)

Ok, so we went out, hit all our favorite bars, and came home more than a little tipsy.  No, we didn’t.  Actually, we don’t go out that much, and from what I’ve been told, the whole state of being pregnant doesn’t really mix well with the consumption of large amounts of alcohol.

But don’t worry; we did go out.  And we did in style, with a nice brunch at IHOP.

Nothing says romance like counting how many pancakes people at the tables around eat with the “all you can eat” pancakes meal.  Neither one of us had pancakes.  We’re already becoming disconnected from the socialized world – I’d say that makes us pretty ready for kids.

We did go out on a date.

A date to Babies’R’Us, where we bought some crib sheets (to go on the mattress we don’t have in the crib we haven’t bought yet).  We also bought Beta a first outfit, unless we find something cuter in the next 4 months.

If anyone knows – help me out: What do babies wear in the hospital?  Are you expected to bring some infant clothes with you?  Do they just wrap them up in a blanket and call it good?  If they provide clothes, is it $50 dollars for what amounts to the fabric equivalent of a dish towel?  These are things that the pregnancy books do not talk about.

In case you think that this was the lamest Valentines Day ever, don’t fret.  We did have a nice candlelight picnic dinner in the living room, complete with a fire and some locally made chocolates for dessert.

That night, when we were going to sleep, I was saying goodnight to Beta, which basically consists of me putting my hand on Rhiannon’s stomach and saying goodnight in some ridiculously cutesy baby-talk sort of way.  Exactly the thing that six months ago I would have sworn I would never do.  I felt one “pulse”, and then three more, all in a row.

Rhiannon confirmed that it was not abdominal muscle spasms.  We felt Beta for the first time, together.  Maybe not romantic in the traditional sense of the holiday, but it was the best thing either of us could have asked for.