Anyone who reads me in a reader was undoubtedly confused when I posted, then deleted, something to the effect that I thought I might be going into labor. False alert -- the nausea and frequent contractions disappeared once I curled up on the couch with a few strategically placed pillows and a DVD of "The West Wing." Which is just as well, for I'd honestly like another week to rest up and relax, give my in-laws a chance fully enjoy a trip to Venise next weekend for their 40th wedding anniversary, and give my daughter the opportunity to be a Sagittarius (so we'll raise our ratio in the house).
I decided, however, that it would be prudent to do my end-of-pregnancy bloodwork ASAP, and track down the last of the items I needed from the pharmacy for my suitcase for the hospital. So, in the late afternoon, I hauled myself off the couch and out into the real world, took the Métro one stop to the medical lab, where a distracted woman asked me the very best question of the day while she labelled a series of blood vials.
"You're pregnant, madame?"
I looked down at my enormous belly and wondered if I should trust this person to find a vein.
Then I answered, simply, "Oui."
By the way, new hospital policy is to arrive wearing stockings designed, I assume, to maintain proper circulation in the legs. The only ones they had at the pharmacy were black with lace trim at the top. I'm wondering what in my late pregnancy wardrobe could possibly coordinate with these. A little black dress? Black pumps or strappy sandals? I had to chuckle just a little at the thought that I am expected to wear to the birth something perhaps more appropriate for the conception.
Only in France.
What's your favorite late pregnancy story? And anyone have any brilliant ideas for arranging pillows to avoid nighttime back pain?