One year ago, on November 14th, I went into work feeling achy and sore. I decided to schedule a massage, and I made an appointment for the next day at 2:30. Then I ran into my friend Laura, who was stopping by to visit with her 6 week old and she said, “You look totally different, did the baby just drop?” I said that I thought so. Then she said that another co-worker who was standing right had said that she knew she was about to go into labor because she felt like she had a bowling ball between her knees. The other co-worker acted horrified and denied ever having said anything of the sort. To be fair, the other co-worker has an accent and I only understand about 25% of what she says, so I am sure all the embarrassment and misunderstanding wasn’t Laura’s fault.
About an hour after I scheduled my massage, I had this thought: “I will be so mad if I go into labor and miss my massage and then have to pay the cancellation fee.” So I rescheduled for that afternoon, and I felt so much better afterwards that when I got home I ripped the cellophane off my pre-natal yoga CD and vowed to do it every night until the baby came.
Then, as we were doing our bimonthly frantic house pick up because the cleaners were due the next day, I really started thinking about the ideal day for the baby to arrive. I said, “I hope the baby is born on Dec 1 because then my time off will stretch out more because of the holidays.” And then, “I hope the baby is born on the November 28th because then all the boys will have birthdays on the 28th.” Then, “I hope the baby is born on November 29th since that is two weeks from tomorrow so the cleaners will come while I’m in the hospital and I’ll come home to a clean house.”
Then I went to bed, satisfied with my plan of having the baby on the 29th. Dave had a really annoying, dry cough, and I suggested that he sleep in the guest bedroom but he didn’t take the hint. His hacking and coughing kept me awake and at midnight I stormed off to the basement in order to quell the urge I had to smother him with a pillow. On the way downstairs I was so uncomfortable that I thought, “there is no WAY I am lasting 2 more weeks. I feel like I have a bowling ball between my knees!”
To be continued…