One year ago tonight, I had really had it. I waddled downstairs to the doctor’s office in our building and asked our befriended helpers there what I could do to get labor in motion. Julia said, “Sex and red wine.” Since there’s nothing sexy about being overdue, I said I would consider the red wine. But our first course of action would be to try to steam the baby out with Indian food.
So Björn and I went to our favorite Indian place, knowing that it would most likely be our last meal out as a couple. I was glad that the owner didn’t ask me when I was due, since the answer might have made him fear for the upholstery in his restaurant. We ate, went home, where I had a glass of red wine and told Björn to be on stand by for husbandly duties should labor have not set in by morning.
He did indeed have to attend to such duties mere hours later, but they were hardly the ones he had probably been hoping for.
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