So, today I am one week overdue. My stomach is large. Our dining room is small. We have had to actually switch my "assigned seat" to the opposite side of the table because I can no longer scoot in far enough for other family members to fit between our kitchen counter and the back of my chair. I am officially a wide load. I need to be off the road. This fact was confirmed this evening, when I was attempting to pilot our family minivan through a narrow section of the, perpetually under-construction, German autobahn near our house and I managed to get too close to a traffic cone type thing on the driver side and took out our side mirror.
Totally shattered the glass and caused it to pop out of the shattered plastic housing and dangle alongside the vehicle. The sound was loud and frightening and I had both of my children as well as my mother along to be scared as well.
All I could think, ridiculous as it sounds, is "I shouldn't even be out here running errands, I should be at home, with my infant son in my arms, on a babymoon. If he had arrived on time, this never would have happened." Very rational. Clearly this was the 41 week-old fetus's doing. I think this was officially my first twinge of self-pity. Tomorrow I will attempt to reinfuse my life with optimism. I will attend a baptismal class for the newborn, followed by First Friday Mass and then, hopefully, a romantic datenight with my husband. We will dine on spicy Thai food bookended with a healthy walk both to and from the restaurant - thereby incorporating two of the wives' tales about labor inducing behaviors.
