Revenge of the Body Snatcher

I went to Giant Eagle tonight, and I realized as I was loading the trunk that I bought groceries as though I'd be cooking all week. Didn't even give it a second thought.

I must have reached and passed some magical marker where people start asking when. Sunday. SUNDAY, OK? IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE SUNDAY BUT I AIN'T FEELING IT!!

I think the baby has dropped, finally. I feel different, I think I look a little different. I have a different set of uncomfortable complaints. But some women drop months in advance. I tell myself the only thing I can count on is that the doctors won't let me keep this in beyond December. Will they?

I was reading up on some ways to "get ready." Where were we before Google? I found tons of real medical information as well as some sites by midwives who swear by certain tinctures and remedies. One suggestion was black cohash, I think, but it isn't supposed to be used by hypertensive women. Another was castor oil -- but beware! If it doesn't work, one will spend a couple of days in the bathroom. In agony.

And then there was evening primrose oil, applied directly to the cervix. Hmmm. In 33 years I managed to avoid learning how to exactly pinpoint the location of the cervix. Then I found one suggestion I might be able to live with: stimulating the breasts. How hard could that be? Reading on I found that one should take a break from that every four or five hours or so.

I decided I had better things to do with my time.

I stopped working Tuesday. I was celebrating my first couple of hours of freedom -- walking aimlessly from room to room before settling down on the couch for a nap -- when the school nurse called. Zoe had pneumonia.

There's nothing better to take your mind off an impending birth than a 5-year-old with pneumonia. Day and night, I nursed her coughs and sponged her down to control the fever. Even on antibiotics, she developed an ear infection too. All this, just a couple weeks after a bout with croup.

I asked the doctor if there was any earthly way I could keep her healthy. "Oh, she'll be fine in first grade," she said.

I'm pretty sure I heard the same thing when she was in preschool. "Oh, she'll be fine when she gets to kindergarten......."

She's better now, and I think I've warded off the worst of it. So.... back to agonizing over my lack of progression.



I should invite a bunch of people over for pot roast on Sunday. Maybe that will get this ball moving.