minalisms

I’ve been debating for days whether to write about this topic, so I’m just gonna be quick with it to make it as painless as possible.

I am afraid about pooping during labor.

This blog post reassures me how normal a phenomenon it is for pregnant women to experience this during birth, considering that “pushing” is the same as excretion. The problem is, with all said and done, I DO NOT FEEL ANY BETTER.

It’s yet another reason to keep Ben at the my side from waist up in the delivery room. If the poor guy doesn’t pass out from seeing a human head peering out from my vagina, he will certainly pass out at the sight of shit.

My son is an athlete. On second thought — knowing my longtime love of dancing and Ben’s penchant for randomly awesome bouts of river dance — my son is probably a dancer.

Because that is all he’s been doing for the past two weeks: Dancing in my belly, above my bladder.

If ever there was a time for Depends, the incontinence accessory, now would be it. Not because I leak from Baby’s sudden kicks and stomps, but because I’m just tired of feeling as though I must pee every half-minute.

Friends tell me it’s only going to get worse — which, thank you, friends, but common sense could’ve helped me figure that one out on my own. By the way, Baby has doubled in size from three weeks ago.

So when you meet him, ask him to do a little jig for you. From what I can tell, he’s quite good.