Fear the Cheese Baby

Everything was going pretty well with the whole pregnancy thing. We ("we") had emerged from the nausea-full first trimester, skipping merrily into the glory that is the second trimester, looking forward to three months free of sick and full of energy.

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.
  

Whether it's a water birth or just a towel birth, something needs to be done. Nobody wants a cheese baby.