...to help you get through labor contractions.
Okay, first off, I am one of those strange women whose bodies will decide to labor for a day or two, then stop for no apparent reason. It is like my particular genes dictate Olympic style practice sessions rather than the mild "false labor." Today was a practice day, and courtesy of an inside infant who has wedged down into my pelvic cavity and refused to surface, a painful practice day.
Nyobi is oblivious to most of this goings on. For her, Mom is just extra crabby and needs more snuggles and pats on the cheek. Of course, having a one year olds attention span, this means that five minutes later (if I'm lucky) and still ensconsed on Moms lap (if I'm not lucky) it is time to squirm and move. Having a 25 pound child dig into your contracting midsection in a moment of gleeful play is not very pleasant.
Cora on the other hand was a very helpful child. At lunch, as I leaned over the counter and wondered how women could go through child birth with back labor and no drugs, she looked over and asked me if I was having another "tack gun".
"They are called contractions dear." I said as this one passed, and I began to pull the french fries from the oven. "And they make Mommy very uncomfortable, thats why she had to wait to get the fries out of the oven."
"Mommy," the very wise child said. "If they hurt you, then they will hurt Anya Lee (the inside babys potential name)." There was a thoughtful pause. "I know Mommy! We will go to the Doctors, and then they will get Anya Lee out and then you will be okay, and we will have a baby!"
There is another pause as she watches me take the non-vegitable half of lunch off of the cooking stone. "After we eat our french fries." She says.
"Thats a great Idea" I said. "Unfortunately, Anya Lee gets to decide when she will come out or not, and not you nor Mommy nor the Doctor can really do much to change her mind. It might not be that she wants to come out today. We have to wait and see."
"Oh." The slightly deflated child stared at her plate, and began to dip stuff in ranch dressing. "But I want to go to Nanis and play Barbies..."
Nice to know that there are already ulterior motives in a 3 year olds mind. On the other hand, at least she is concerned for mine and her soon to be new sisters comfort. Either that or she just hates dealing with the crabby Mom of bad early labor days.