Pretty Much Totally Pregnant, Pretty Much Kinda Ready

Lovey Loverpants ramped up the MP3 player with a brand new playlist. Chances are good it is called "Birthing." Chances are strong it includes some calming Damien Rice and Jim Brickman, as well as Salt n' Pepa's "Push It" because we are just that corny. Ready? Let's have this baby.


We've been hypothesizing about how this labor experience is going to go down, knowing what we know about each other and knowing what we've yet to learn about blowing a small vernix-covered skull out of my cooch. Typically, when I'm in The Zone whereby I'm trying to concentrate very hard on something I'm trying to do or comprehend, I cannot bear the slightest distraction. I'm confident that Lovey will be a great birthing partner. I'm just not sure if I'll hear him shouting PUSH IT because I may be concentrating on other things. Like why we never practiced putting the Cabbage Patch Doll into the car seat and now we have to do it with a Real Kid, the Kid Evacuating My Uterus Right Now OHHHH PUSH IT!

So we've decided to invent a code word for labor. I asked Lovey what kind of non-verbal cue I should use to let him know that I can't listen to him talk right now, I'm concentrating on birthing my firstborn. He told me just to flip him off. I wondered for a moment if that's how Scientologists got through the whole silent birth thing. But then I told him that wasn't appropriate. So he said, maybe a verbal cue would be better. He immediately thought of someone who could have been helped by a verbal cue to stop talking. One of his old neighbors, Grant, used to blab about bass guitar and pocket and chicks for hours, and could never take a hint. So we referred to him as G-Rant. If G-Rant only knew that his code name had become our code word for turning down the boom-booms during labor.


We've got our audio and we've got our non-audio, and I'm proud to share that we also received our shipment of Tot Cons for when the wee one's feet are big enough. My heart definitely skipped a beat when I beheld the package. Mercy! Even the boxes are cute:

two chucks

one chuck