Monday, July 02, 2007


My daughter is due any day now. She's miserable, anxious, nervous, happy, worried, and feels like a blimp even though she has a cute bubble belly. She keeps on calling me up with an update on her contractions which are the Braxton Hicks ones. I tell her not to go to the hospital unless she has pain that she can't walk, stand, sit, etc. It's nervewracking when you've never been through it before.

Her labor coach and my friends and me are all telling her to have sex to bring on the real contractions, but she doesn't want to hear about it. It's always "MOM!" when I bring the subject up, that I was glad when her British midwife brought it up.

Yesterday, she carried home 7 bottles of sodas which is HER idea of bringing on real labor. Like mother, like daughter. She'd rather lug heavy items for miles in hot weather than have sex.

I've bought tickets for the Jerusalem Film Festival later on this week - I look forward to this event all year. And who knows if she'll ruin all my plans by bringing my grandkid into the world during the festival. But nevertheless, however the wind blows will be totally welcome.

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