It was all going to be great.
Or so we thought. You see, around week 19, our baby has apparently started to coat (him)(her)self in a greasy white substance that, apparently, is not unlike goat cheese. I love goat cheese.
I used to love goat cheese.
And so that's almost fine. I mean, I can just pretend that the cheese isn't happening and focus on things like the development of toes and fingers. But then I discovered that sometimes the cheese, it doesn't go away. Sometimes the doctor can pull a baby from it's uterine home and pass it to the parents, cheese and all. Just a little wet burrito covered in a cocktail of amniotic fluid, baby pee, and goat cheese. I don't think I can handle that.
Actually, it kind of makes me think that a water birth might be the way to go. Think about it:
- Self cleaning: straight from the womb to a tub. Niiiiice.
- Only the strong survive: if the baby can swim, cool. If not...well, nobody ever said Darwinism was easy.
- No better way to make friends than to be the kid with a pool.