I’m still here. Still pregnant. Still desperately wishing it were over now, though I’m dreading the questions I’ll be getting soon.
Stacia is almost 8 now—a far cry from the 4 year old she was the last time I went through this. I’m going to have to answer the question with a bit more than “from love.” She’s smarter than that by now.
We have already had the occasional “How’s the baby going to come out?” question, but managed to gloss it over with a trip to the maternity center and reminder of the doctors who will help the baby come out. It’s only a matter of time before she actually asks where the baby will come out of. That’s going to be a fun conversation filled with what is sure to be a way-too-detailed description on the pain of contractions—something “akin to doing the splits on a crate of dynamite.”
We’ve always tried to use proper terms for things, but discovering that the vagina—or as our toddler calls it, despite our proper vocabulary, her front butt—has a purpose other than peehole is going to be quite a shock.
I’m never getting grandchildren.
I’m so dreading that conversation. At least I managed to avoid it with all my pregnancies, my oldest was 5 when my youngest was born. Take care of yourself, it’ll (labor) happen when it happens.
Ugh.. I remember when my sonewas about 7 and our dog went into heat. He told me that Frankie had a “bleeding spot” and that we should take her to the vet. I do not envy you ONE bit.
was smiling…catching up…and then I read ‘front butt’….almost choked I laughed so hard…..