Today I walked into the writing center and ran into a former student who is now an intern there. Justin's a great guy and I'm thrilled I run into him these days when I'm rarely on campus. (In fact, I'm only on campus either to pick something up -- books or Angela -- or to go work out and swim, which I have now been diligently doing for over a month. Although today, the professor's nightmare happened when I ran into a student in the showers. An awkward experience, indeed. But I digress.)
Janet (the director of writing center) asked how yesterday's prenatal visit went. I said that the midwife said Angela was at "minus-3." Janet (and one of the other writing center employees, who is also a mom) nodded and Justin just looked at me with a mildly confused look. I started to explain to him that this meant that the baby was no longer floating around, that he was now head-down and slowly headed in the direction that he's supposed to go -- i.e. out. And that "zero" meant the cervix and "plus-2" meant...
And Justin was just looking so bewildered.
You know, it really wasn't that long ago that I probably would have had that same look. As late as five months ago, I wouldn't have had a clue. Nor would I really have known anything about onesies or Pitocin or Vitamin K or really why would anyone need a bassinet. And I can't imagine myself spontaneously asking people about their opinions on circumcision all that long ago, knowing that whatever decision I will make will be wrong.
What sort of beast have I become?
I'll tell you what sort I'm becoming. In the waiting room yesterday at the Maternity Center, I was happily reading an interesting book called Kael & Sontag: Opposites Attract Me and a woman came in with her son. He was just sitting in his car seat, staring all around at everything, wriggling like mad with huge eyes. And I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Adorable as hell.
And I told the mother with a big, soft smile on my face, "I am not going to get a damn thing done when my son is born."
Bring it on.