OOH! She’s about to POP!Posted: 09/19/2013
This is what someone yelled at me as they were pulling into the wine shop today.
Yes, I was at the wine shop, getting a bottle to drink after labor is over and we’ve had our ‘golden hour’ with Ziggy. I will try to refrain from drinking the whole bottle.
The large man in the wine store who made me feel at home with the size of my stomach actually asked me if I was on my way to the hospital. He knows me on sight, because I used to be one of his best customers. Or at least, I was a very frequent customer (I buy cheap-ass wine).
I had a midwives appointment today, which I was hoping to avoid due to Ziggy’s arrival. No such luck. We’re a day late at this point. The midwife we saw said everything was great, “textbook” was the word she used. Then she told me to expect to be pregnant until 42 weeks.
This is a managing expectations thing, because any way you go about it, I’m having this thing at 42 weeks, because that’s when they’ll induce. Next Thursday, I’ll have to get an ultrasound to make sure everything’s good to wait another 6 or so days. I’d really love to avoid both of those things, Ziggy.
The wine store was our last stop after the appointment. On recommendation from the midwife, we stopped at GNC to get some Evening Primrose Oil, which makes me thing of old ladies and sadness, and then to a tea shop for some red raspberry leaf tea (this is on almost everyone in the world’s rec). Both are meant to soften things up down there and get it all ready to go. The tea shop was in my neighborhood, which means it was run by an awesome hippie lady. I walked in and told her what I was looking for and she said “Well, yes you ARE!”
[I skipped our stop for a milkshake, which was the only good thing about having to go to the midwifes. That stop was on no one’s recommendation but Ziggy’s. I am trying to eat so much that s/he has no more room. That’s how that works, right? Shut up. I’m allowed to eat my feelings at this point.]
I normally hate attention, but it’s pretty funny to see people’s reactions at this point. The husband loves it, too. Last weekend, we decided to get out and about in our neighborhood a bit. We went to a music shop that’s housed in this little bungalow. They know me there, because I volunteered at this thing they’re affiliated with. Anyway, we were in the guitar room messing around and one of the owners walked in. I happened to have my back to the doorway and a guitar over my belly. When I turned around, the owner recognized me and asked me how I was doing. Then I removed the guitar and the shock destroyed her face. “Oh! THAT’S how you are!”
On what I must now legally call my jog/walks, I pass a bunch of kids on their way to school. Mostly, they stare, and I smile and wave, but this morning after I jalked past this little girl, she yelled to her friends, “That lady is PREGNANT!” On Saturday, I jalked by a garage sale, and this woman said “What have YOU been dropping? You better pick up that baby!” (It’s clear to everyone who has ever had a child that Ziggy has now ‘dropped’, which is why it’s head is in my pelvis. This is common in the last few weeks for first-timers like me.)
I love these responses, because they’re honest. People seem to find such joy in my pregnancy, and there’s this sense of connectedness that takes absolutely no effort. Sure, there’s more to me than the pregnancy, but right now, honestly, not so much. I am a walking inside-out camel, and it’s still not so bad. I’m sleeping pretty well, I can still move around, and though Ziggy enjoys pinching my cervix and punching my bladder, we’ve come to an understanding. It is that I will basically eat whatever I want to eat and s/he will move wherever and whenever it pleases. The alien is alive, people, and if I’m managing my expectations like a good first-time preggo, it’ll stay in there for another two weeks.