The Target Trip

Just a little note: I am writing this one (and probably tomorrow's) just so I have a record of this memory years and years from now. It seems so clear to me right now, but I am afraid I will forget. I actually wish I would have written it last year, in case I am missing some details. So, excuse my trip down memory lane. :)

March 8th was a Sunday last year, and I remember exactly what I did that day. I woke up after a horrible night's sleep, had my decaf coffee, read the Sunday newspaper (mostly the ads, admittedly), and then decided that I needed to go to Target.

I waited until Cortlan's nap time, and went off by myself. I wandered around the store while talking on the phone to my friend, Amanda. (I even remember exactly what the conversation was about, and what aisle I was standing in at a particular point in the conversation.)

I looked at baby clothes, and, horrified, wondered what size bathing suit I would be wearing in the summer (because now is when they decide to put them in the stores...right when I am as white as the snow on the ground and certainly not in bathing suit shape...why do they do that??). I then wandered over to the food aisle.

Here is what I threw in my cart: Fererro Rocher chocolates, taco mix, salsa, a spicy Thai noodle bowl, Wasabi coated nuts, and buffalo wing flavored pretzel bits. I ate the Wasabi nuts on the way home, chased by a chocolate. We had the tacos for dinner, with a snack of buffalo pretzels not long after, and then of course, some more chocolate. The Thai was for lunch the next day.

I was convinced that there was something I could do to start my labor. Among other things (and I tried many things), I was told spicy food would help. The Fererro Rochers, well, that was because I love them, and on February 19th, I had ended up in the hospital, thinking I was in labor after eating a bunch of them. I swear those chocolates made me have the ridiculous, neatly-timed contractions that everyone could see on the monitor. That February night, I had been sent home from the hospital with what they were calling "early labor," with instructions to get some rest - "tomorrow will be the day". The days went on and on and on with those contractions, leading me to the desperate Target trip, 16 days later. Of those 16, there was not one single day that went by at work that someone (more often, multiple people) did not say to me, "You are still here?!" Yep. Still here.

I went to bed last year on March 8th as uncomfortable as ever, lying on my side, with a great big belly protruding in front of me, feeling my daughter use my insides as a punching bag.

My due date: March 13th.