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I Think I Might Be Pooping

So remember how obsessed I was with whether or not I was pooping?  It happened again, of course.  Not the pooping, I told everyone not to tell me if I pooped, the obsession happened again.

Yesterday we left off with Doctor Love taking matters in his own hands while attempting to reattach the monitor that kept slipping from my humongous belly.

Today we pick up with Serge engaged in a little obsession of his own; plugging in the computer.  I’m like, “Dude, the nurse just said I’m dilated to a ten” and there he was rushing around the room adjusting the lighting, pulling blinds, jimmying with the computer.  I think at one point he rearranged a pile of magazines and slid a chair a couple inches to the right, as if that would make his birthing experience complete.

Next week:  pushing.  But for now, the last few minutes before Henry was born:

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