According to Noah, "twiddle your bag of waters" isn't a more acceptable euphemism for "strip your membranes," but what can I do? Virtually every bit of vocab related to the miracle of life seems meant to make it sound as gross as possible. He especially hates it when I talk about the fundus (the top of the uterus), so naturally I mention it as often as possible. E.g. "Ethan just kneed me in the fundus." And I don't care what Noah says, "bag of waters" is hilarious.
Other verbotin words: colostrum, placenta, cervix.
I've researched some literature to help Noah get in touch with the earthy side of the whole process, and found a really awesome and helpful set of illustrations. Here's just one:
I literally can't stop laughing. I don't know who came up with this stuff, but it's gold.
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We haven't given tons of thought to names yet—we'll find out the baby's gender next Thursday—but Ethan's already come up with a couple frontrunners: Myrtletoot (for a girl), and Ethan Etheridge Boom-boom (gender neutral).
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"You haven't talked to the baby today," I mentioned last night in bed.
"Hi baby, this is your daddy," Noah lilted, leaning down toward my belly.
"Listen, there's a very important movie called The Hobbit coming out around the time you're due, and it's essential that you don't interfere with my seeing it on opening night at the theater."
"That's so sweet."