Friday, March 10, 2006

The Golden Ticket

Had someone told me that getting a cervical check would feel synonymous with getting finger banged on the F train in the middle of the afternoon perhaps I could have been more prepared. Perhaps not. On my way to the doctor's office I realized how long it's been since I've seen my vagina. Wiping after urination is now like trying to fix your boot in the stirrup when you're already on the horse. I f I reach to far, or put too much effort into completing the task, I could fall right off of the toilet. Sex was put on hold a few weeks ago. Had to happen. Certain requests weren't being met do to a sheer obstruction of reach. Boot in the stirrup again.



So today, mid sentence, no warning, the kind doctor is all of a sudden knuckle deep in what has been for the past month an exit only opening. Hello Doctor. What's that you say? Nothing. 3, not engaged at all? 0 dialation? 0 effacment? Stunning. At least this means my move into the new house in less than two weeks may still go off without a hitch. Also, the baby is head down again.



Last week she was flipped, head under my ribs. This is not cool. I think I did this by getting worried about who was going to want to be at the delivery. Got myself so twisted up about it she figured she would let me know that she wasn't coming until I got shit figured out. Got it little girl. So then I got to spend the week doing haphazard pelvic tilts and visualization (which is what I truly think turned her back). So now, everything is set, she is back in place, and now we wait.



So, what sort of activities does the 9th month of pregnancy entail, you might ask? How about dreaming that I decide to drain my breasts of all the milk to see what they look like deflated? In the process of doing this I end up breastfeeding my 105 lb. American Bulldog, astounded at how his gnawing on my nipples doesn't hurt, rather sends a tingling sensation through my genitals. I wake up fearful that I'm late for work and wondering if this dream is insight towards my circus future as some sort of trapeze artist/dog fucker. Luckily, a friend explains later that this is just about my feeling like my dog has been my baby and I am getting ready to replace him. As for the tingling genitals, that's a pretty frequent feeling considering that my inner labia now looks like someone pulled the cord on my vaginal floatation device. I assume. That's what it feels like. I'm afraid to look.



Otherwise, most of my time is spent thinking about the baby, when I'll have her, what it will be like when she's here, how eager I am to get her out of me. Most of all I am keeping my eye on the crotch of my panties every time I drop them to pee, looking for my mucus plug like Charlie looking for that Golden Ticket.

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