This pregnancy thing is rife with debate, ain't it? Every damn thing you do has, like, a billion studies to back up why you should or shouldn't be doing that thing. Wine is okay, wine will kill your baby! Oh my God, OH MY GOD is that deli meat you're eating?! And the tuna! Full of mercury you murdering motherfucker! Are you dying your hair? Just know that your son will probably have two heads all because you wanted to be blonde, YOU SELFISH BITCH ASS BITCH.
Still, I appreciate your comments, I really do. Serge read them all, like, ten times and then we talked and talked and, well, here is the latest on the whole question of whether to induce. Yes, of course you have to click over to Babble. That's how mama's paying for this baby, yo!
But listen, I wanted to talk about something else over here. And yes, it has to do with pregnancy so I'm sorry. I'M SORRY! Hopefully the little fella will be out within the week and you won't have to hear about vagina-related things anymore. But for now? THERE IS A SEVEN POUND HUMAN IN MY BODY AND HE NEEDS TO COME OUT SO IT IS ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT.
Ahem. Moving on: Sex during pregnancy.
There are these women, wanton husband-stealers like Angelina Jolie, who wax poetic about how horny they were during pregnancy and I'm like WHAT? Because all I could do in the first trimester was puke my guts out and who the hell feels like showcasing their stretched, naked ass during the third trimester?
And yet. People-in-the-know say that sex helps induce labor. Can you vouch for these people-in-the-know? What do you know? So, after reading up on this sex induces labor thing I told Serge he might have to harpoon this whale - if you know what I'm saying - and after he recovered from the shock of me inviting him to actually touch my body he mimed a penis hitting a baby in the head. Of course that's just silly but what if I have a contraction during the deed? Because seriously, I'm having these Braxton Hicks bastards every five minutes. I keep picturing my vagina snapping shut like those man-eating plants from The Little Shop of Horrors.
Also, my vagina has been out of use for quite some time now and I told Serge that maybe he needed to dust her off and clear a path for his son.
I don't think that helped convince him.
So maybe, just maybe I should have some Marvin Gaye at the ready for when he arrives home from work... Who can resist Marvin Gaye? And wine, of course. Lots and lots of wine. For him, not me, you judgmental bastards.
I mean, really. Who wouldn't want to get with this???