In good news, I lost more of my mucus plug this morning, a development that pleased Heather so much that she didn’t mind being woken to see it. (She had a lot of questions the first time and I felt it was more efficient to just show it to her this time.) In suckier news, my lord, I’m still throwing up all the damn time.
We interrogated Midwife Amy about the significance of the plug during our appointment Wednesday: I’d only lost some of it by then, but could we get more excited if there was more? How big a deal is this? What exactly does it portend?
Alas, Amy, ever-practical, said that it indicated that my cervix was moving forward, pointing “towards the exit,” so it represented progress, yes, but even losing the full plug (they call it “the bloody show” because part of the plug should be blood-streaked, making the anticipation of labor all the more appealing) wouldn’t mean Baby was imminent. All of which is to say, “Um, be happy, but don’t expect shit.”
This week’s appointment also featured the symbolic handing-over of a deflated birth pool so Heather can ready it when the time comes. Amy gave her instructions, including the suggestion that she place the liner in the pool before filling it with water, and I sat there smugly, knowing proper tub-inflation (base then seat then sides) will not fall under my purview during labor. No, I can concentrate on moaning (low-pitched sounds only, please), swaying my hips, and otherwise trying to move a small human out of my body.
On a more mirthful note, Heather and I both got quite a chuckle when the doula/midwife team remarked, not for the first time, that I had very strong stomach muscles obscuring Evie. “What sports did you play in school? Your muscles make your belly really hard to palpate.” I don’t know if I can adequately express the distance between me and athletic activity, nor can I account in any way for the muscles. I’m confident I did nothing to earn them. One doula, struggling to tell the difference between surface muscle and the baby’s back, speculated that there could be two babies, and the other doula asked if we’d had ultrasounds to check. That is just mean.