September 4, 2006

Love And A Baby, I Hope

I’m in New York with Aunt Lulu, on Babywatch 2006. It’s Labor Day, damn it, and I intend for her to go into labor. We walked in Central Park earlier and her ripe belly garnered lots of attention. When you’re in the middle of your pregnancy, people tend to glance at your tummy and smile, as if to say, “Ah! The joy of new life is here before me.”

Aunt Lulu’s abdomen and protrusive navel drew looks of a different type, ranging from disgust ( “No way I’ll get that big when I’m pregnant”) to amazement (”I can’t believe that girl is still walking!”) to concern (”I don’t want my child to watch a live birth here on the Great Lawn.”)

Bill and I came up here Thursday to celebrate our wedding anniversary and his fortieth birthday. As per usual, I was unable to leave town without a child sustaining a head injury; Finn was re-concussed Tuesday night at football practice and I was sore afraid that I would have to spend Wednesday getting a CT scan instead of a manicure, but fortunately the doctor ruled out the need for that test and I flew up here with beautiful nails.

We had four whole nights to ourselves with no children. We ate, shopped, watched tennis, and took advantage of all the city has to offer, but I think Bill and I would both agree that the highlight of our stay was being able to sit on the couch in front of the TV and kiss without any boys nearby. We haven’t had that freedom in a decade and it was so exhilarating that we spent quite a bit of time remembering how much fun it can be to sort of watch a movie amd make googly eyes at each other.

Large Lulu is due any day and has been “feeling weird” which is how I felt just before I discovered I would be having the twins about five minutes later. Based on her symptoms, Bill flew home this morning while I stayed to try to greet this baby in person and assist Aunt Lulu.

Actually, I’m not very helpful in terms of advising her on the pregnancy or labor. I’ve never knowingly been pregnant for more than seven months, and I’ve never realized I was in labor, either, but I don’t think I was ever in danger of dropping a baby out in the middle of a 7-11 like you hear about sometimes on Hard Copy. Pretty much the only pieces of advice I have for her are:

1. Don’t worry about the epidural. It’s like a bee sting. That doesn’t mean you have to act all macho and inspect the needle, though; and
2. If it’s a boy, point the penis down when putting on a new diaper.

I do have a list of things that need to be done once she hits the hospital, and maybe I’ll sneak her husband a shot of scotch if he looks like he’s getting freaky.

I’ll be here until Thursday morning, so those of you who are praying people, please pray that I’m in the right place in the right time. Aunt Lulu and I would appreciate it.