Maternity Mondays: 39 Weeks

I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around this time frame that I'm in. My due date is on Saturday. SATURDAY. If she doesn't come by then, we'll wait until next Saturday and I'll be induced. Regardless, in two weeks there will be a baby in this house. Weird.

Have you ever looked forward to one single event for so long that you begin to wonder what you'll be thinking when it finally arrives? I do that ALL the time. Like, for instance, I keep wondering what will be going through my head when I realize that the contractions I'm having are real. Or what I'll be thinking when the nurse says, "Okay, Michelle. It's time to push." Or what could possibly cross my mind when they finally hand her to me and tell me she's all mine.

Now, onto the funny stuffs.

Remember my last Maternity Monday post? I mentioned how I keep answering the same questions over and over and over but I at least try to keep my cool? I kid you not, about an hour after I posted that, I had to run an errand and fill up the car. When I went inside to pay, I decided that I MUST have a soda (since the Coke machine incident was still fresh in my mind.) So, there I am, minding my own business, filling up my giant cup, when I hear a voice behind me.

Her: "When's that baby due?"

Now, I wasn't expecting a conversation when I went in there, so it hardly registered to me that someone was speaking until she repeated her question. Much louder.

Her: "WHEN'S THAT BABY DUE?"

(I turn around slowly.)

Me: "...July 7th."

(I go back to filling my cup.)

Her: "Wow! That's comin' up real quick!"

Me: (still not looking at her) "Yep."

Then she proceeds to walk over to where I was so that I couldn't possibly ignore her. I mean, she stood CLOSE.

Her: "Do ya know whatchur havin?"

(I look her in the eyes and hope she receives the message that I really don't want to talk to her.)

Me: "Yes."

Her: "Wut is it?"

Me: (sigh in defeat) "It's a girl."

Her: "OH THAT'S JUST WUNDURFUL! Doya have a burth plan?"

Now, never being asked that question before, I kind of lose it. When I say that I've never been asked that before, I mean by ANYONE. Not my doctor. Not my friends. Not even my parents. Nobody has ever EVER asked me that. 

Me: "Look, ma'am. I don't want to be rude, but I don't really like discussing this kind of stuff with my friends, much less a complete stranger."

(She looks slightly miffed, but remains silent.)

Me: "I mean, I'm not going to come up to you and ask you how many bones you've broken in your life or how many cigarettes you've obviously smoked this morning. Why? Because it's none of my business. Being clearly pregnant isn't an open invitation for random people to ask me lots of questions when all I'd really like to do is pay for my gas, this soda and go home. Does that make sense?"

Her: "Oh. Yer right. I'm sorree."

Me: "Thank you."

As I turn away to walk towards the counter to pay, I hear this:

Her: "So are ya dilated yet?"

REALLY?! You have got to be joking. No one can possibly be that thick. I had to pay quickly and leave because I knew that if I turned around I would surely kill her.

Thinking about that still irritates me, but it appears that story was a huge source of entertainment for Nick who laughed a LOT while I was recounting it to him. Through the tears that were forming in his eyes, he managed an, "I'm sorry, babe, but that's hysterical," before he died.

Just kidding. I didn't kill him. 

Happy Monday!