Baby worries

As we enter into the final few weeks of the second trimester, it has become clear to me that my darling husband and I are not always on the same page where our offspring is concerned. He has browsed the pregnancy book and oooh'd and awwww'd over the tiny clothes and new color of the nursery, and he has comforted me when I randomly burst into tears and cooked and cleaned when I have had no desire to get off the couch. We are virtually identical in beliefs, values, and family goals. But while I'm fretting over preterm labor, gestational diabetes, and the intervals between and intensity of Jr.'s movements, my husband is primarily concerned with... my belly button.

When Nick was a little boy, his older brother told him that if you pushed your belly button hard enough, your legs would fall off. This led the dear man to become extremely unsettled by the idea of "outie" navels. After all, most of us are protected from the horror of watching our legs fall off by our innies, which would have to be actively sought out and pressed. An outie could initiate a self-destruct sequence just by leaning up against a counter. Therefore, in his mind, innie = safe, outie = sudden loss of legs.

Fast forward 23 years to about a month ago, when I, having heard the legend of the belly button many times but never having realized the terror with which my husband has lived, showed him my much shallower navel and informed him that it might pop out before the baby arrives. My pregnancy so far has been pretty easy. Maybe three total days of nausea, a few minor backaches, some fatigue in the first trimester. Nick has handled the food aversions, complaints of dry, itchy skin, unspeakable bathroom-related issues, and general physical expansion like a pro. He has valiantly stood by my side in the Target baby section, holding the scan gun while I dithered over bedding colors and travel systems not once, but at least three times. But, at the prospect of my innie being outed, the poor guy went ashen.

His brother's myth, while no longer believed, is still "a contributing factor" in my husband's belly button psyche. While he does not believe my legs are in any danger, he is afraid that if my belly button pops out, it might get accidentally sheared off, which would unravel my whole internal arrangement and result in all my internal organs spilling out onto the floor. He realizes this is at least highly unlikely and probably impossible. Until the Mythbusters test it, however, he will remain concerned.

Right now, directly behind my navel is a placenta and a sealed-up uterus. But what if my belly button pops out and doesn't go back in after the baby comes? Will my weakened abdominal muscles herniate out, the leaders in a charge soon to be followed by my spleen and whatever else is lurking in there? I read the section in What to Expect that assures the worried parents-to-be that "your belly button should revert back to its regular position a few months after delivery". The book even suggests Band-Aid-ing it down if its outward appearance truly bothers you. Nick was relieved; he had been thinking tape and I caught him eyeing the stapler the other day. But then... "Should? Should revert?" He has two questions for the doctor at my appointment today: 1. Will it go back after the baby comes? and 2. If it doesn't, is surgery an option?

I, on the other hand, am fascinated by this pregnancy symptom, as it is one of the few that is not painful, scary, or gas-inducing. I discovered last night that if I press lightly above and below my navel, it pops out like those googly-eyed stress balls and then immediately shoots back in. I was thoroughly enjoying this new toy, and, forgetting Nick's phobia, went to show him my new trick, as he usually is enraptured by such things. He shrieked and hid under a pillow, yelling, "No! No! Put it back!" He looked rather sheepish when he came back out of his pillow fort and insisted on checking that things were back to normal before he would go to sleep.

In short, I have a wonderfully supportive husband with whom I am greatly anticipating parenthood. I'm just not sure he's going to go near the baby until the cord dries up and falls off. And in the meantime, we pray the baby has an innie, or his father will be sheathing it in bubble wrap every day of the poor kid's life.