Nothing gets a party started like a good vaginal discharge story, so I’ll kick it off: I was enjoying dinner last night at California Pizza Kitchen, where my Waldorf Chicken Salad unexpectedly came with a side of mucus plug.
No wonder I’m never invited to parties.
I went to the ladies’ room — because I’d only urinated two billion times in the past hour — and I was greeted with a handful of “OH DEAR GOD, I’VE GIVEN BIRTH TO GHOST SLIME!”
As luck would have it, Mr. Candy and I were dining with my cousin who is a labor and delivery nurse. To her, this is scintillating dinner conversation. When I returned to the table and announced we were the proud parents of a bouncing bundle of ghost slime, her face lit up: “Your mucus plug came out!”[Ed. note: Mom, you should probably grab the smelling salts for Dad at this point.]
Oh! Right! The mucus plug! I KNEW that. *AHEM*
According to my cousin and the four-hundred-thousand totally credible pregnancy message forums I scoured last night, this could mean labor is imminent OR… not. Predicting labor is a precise science like that. Especially because the plug was totally clear. Like, um, snot. (Deep breaths, Dad. In… and out…) I can tell you it DOES mean I got my ass in gear and (over)packed my hospital bag as soon as we got home, and that every sound I utter makes Mr. Candy jump ten feet in the air now.
“Are you okay? Are you okay?!”
“Don’t worry, hon. Just humming along to ‘Bust a Move!’ …Says she wanna dance cuz she likes the groove. So come on, fatso, and just bust a move…”
I was concerned that 36 weeks was too early, that I should do everything in my power to cook Baby Girl a little while longer, but Cousin Michelle assures me it’s all good at this point: “If things are moving along, it means she’s ready to come out.”
Or, as my mom put it, “She must be a nosy little thing!”
Seriously, at your next office party, just try it as an ice-breaker: “So… seen any good mucus plugs lately?”