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The Laughing Stork

Candy's Column

37 Weeks

75% effaced?  Check.  A little dilated?  Check.  Mucus plug ejected?  Check.  Baby engaged?  Check.  Increasingly strong, but not regular contractions?  Check.

Baby shortly on the way…?  Who the hell knows.  Certainly not my doctor, who informed me this morning at my 37-week checkup that I could “go into labor on my way out the door,” OR… not until my due date of July 28th.  Helpful!

After all the recent bodily progress, Mr. Candy and I have been on high alert here at the Labor Watch Center.  As have our families.  It’s gotten to the point that I don’t want to call my mom because I know she’ll be disappointed I’m bothering her with no baby news of note.

“Helloooooo?”

“Guess what, Mom?  I just won the Nobel Peace Prize for single-handedly negotiating the Israeli–Palestinian peace accord!”

“So still no sign of baby?”

“No, but –”

*CLICK*

Yesterday was particularly fun, as a constant pelvic pressure forced me to walk around hunched over in pain.  Yes!  I was the Hunchback of West Hollywood!  It’s as though the baby is knocking on the door.  With her head.  And no real game plan beyond that.

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Baby.”

“Baby who?”

“Baby I’ll see you later, maybe I won’t!”

SEE WHAT THIS BABY IS DOING TO ME, PEOPLE?  I’M TELLING KNOCK-KNOCK JOKES, for crying out loud!  They didn’t warn me about this horrific third-trimester symptom in “What to Expect What You’re Expecting.”

So, yeah, we’re ready to meet Baby Girl, but it appears she may not want to come out until it’s time for the nail-biting finale of “The Next Food Network Star.”  (And who can blame her?)  This could actually be a good thing, impatience aside, because today’s ultrasound revealed her weight to be on the lower side at 5 lbs., 7 oz.  However, their weight estimates are about as accurate as their labor day predictions.  “She’s five-and-a-half pounds — give or take five pounds!”  And truly hard to believe, given there has not been a single newborn in my family that’s debuted under 9 lbs.

I kid you not.

Even I was sort of reprimanded for having gained “only” 21 pounds.  Me!  Feeling guilty about NOT GAINING ENOUGH WEIGHT!  As this — as well as that time my mom actually REPLIED to my e-mail instead of CALLING me back — prove, there is indeed a first for everything.  I was all, huh?  I graze on the contents of our pantry all day long.  I don’t know what more I can do.  The doctor did note that, because I’m tall and am carrying almost all of the baby weight in my belly, it’s probably not anything to worry about.

Easy for HER to say.

She’s not the middle-heavy inspiration for Hasboro’s new Weeble-Wobble Playset:  Baby Bumpus Wobbleworks.

Because sharing is caring, as I tell my kids. (Except my wine. Never my wine.)
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Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. A humor columnist for Disney, Nickelodeon, Scary Mommy, Reductress and Redbook, she also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats, the latter of whom are the real brains behind this operation (so send all complaints to them).

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