FOUR: The Martini Incident

One sunny day last week, I was waddling down the street, minding my own business when I felt what I could only describe (and what can only be politely be described) as a person of extremely compromised height throwing a warm martini up and onto my nether-regions. I was more confused than alarmed. First, there was no person of compromised height drinking a martini within sight. Second, there are many grotesque and bizarre things happening to my body these days - I quickly assumed that a little leak was just another slice of miracle.

Upon arriving home and looking on the Internet (you'd be surprised at how many online discussions are devoted to non-pornographic leaky lady-parts), I decided I needed to call my midwife. The Internet is a dramatic place; a slippery slope of worst case scenario doom but the quantity and quality of the..."martini" was such that I needed to make sure I was okay. My midwife immediately sent me to the hospital.

I called L who scolded me for not calling sooner (He could have sorted through the "You probably have anthrax" links on my behalf) and then met me at the hospital. I was scared for a short bit - being only 25 weeks, early labor would not bode well for this pregnancy - but I checked out okay pretty quickly. They put a fetal monitor on at one point, with the disclaimer that the monitor was designed for full term babies and would likely only pick up a faint heartbeat for a short amount of time. Chum proceeded to impress everyone with 30 minutes straight of war cry-decibel heart beats. I hope he is quieter and less "showy" in person.

The upshot of all this (physiologically speaking)...I most likely peed myself.

Please add incontinence to the other joys of pregnancy - the bloat, the gas, the waddle, the stabbing calf cramps at inopportune moments (more on that in an upcoming blog and not for the prudish), and the various skin anomalies (In addition to "Welcome to the Dollhouse" acne, I have a darkened swatch of skin in the perfect shape of a moustache).

Truth be told, I'm okay with it all - it's certainly entertaining. I just wish my diapers could also fit the baby.