Just got back from breakfast and managed to get floor seats for the Duran Duran concert in April. It's crazy how you have to buy tickets so far in advance now! Anyway, I should be able to take a breather with the girls by then. Plus the babysitting offers are just pouring in, though I think the Dog would prefer a night alone with his son (or so he says now). Sorry little baby, you're just going to have to sit this show out. You already got to see Madonna, in utero no less! You may be a bit young for the Fab Five.
So now that I'm "full-term", how the fuck do you know that you're in labour? Well apparently you wait for something called "The Bloody Show." Mmmm, doesn't that sound wonderful? When you get pregnant, you aquire a few accessories, one of which is a gorgeous sounding number called "the mucous plug." I wonder if you can get that at Dior? This plug acts like a barrier, so nothing can get up your cervix and into the placenta. So if you're still shoving dirty dildos up there in your 8th month (and really, who isn't?), or maybe your partner isn't so clean, baby is still relatively safe. When your body is ready to get into labour mode, your mucous plug drops out and you might see some pink stuff on your panties, or even drops of red in some cases. You don't have to do anything at this point, unless you start bleeding heavily (soaking a pad an hour), which may mean you have some sort of placental abruption and you should go to the hospital right away.
Otherwise you just sit and wait for the other fun stuff to start happening. I think that I will go see the new Wes Anderson/ Bill Murray picture, Life Aquatic -- that is my plan should this happen to me after the 25th of December. So now we just hang out and wait for this "bloody show" to start. This means I am having to put white panty liners on my wide range of black panties, just so I don't miss "the show." It also means turning on the lights when I get up to pee 40 times a night just to check for any pinkness.
Sleep is sucking so bad. Everytime I roll over it's a huge production: throw off the comforter, whip the body pillow to the other side of me, roll over, scream in pain because there is a foot up my rib, breathe, adjust belly over pillow and pillow between legs, pull comforter back over, try to fall back asleep. I am amazed that I have any clarity left to type anything remotely cohesive or articulate. Have to clean my house now. Have invited people to come over and see the baby's room and my giant belly one last time tomorrow. Have no clue who's showing up. Will talk tomorrow.
Bon weekend á tout!