Disclaimer: I do not profess to be any sort of genius. I don't actually think I'm that smart. I believe there are a lot, and I do mean a LOT, of people in the world who are much, much smarter than I (and also do not abuse parenthetical statements/explanations, which seem to be my trademark). And although I won't be applying for a Mensa membership any time soon, I do know that I am not stupid. [Side note: Last week, I had lunch with another pregnant person who admitted she is worried that her baby won't be smart enough. Because she is very smart. And her husband is "probably a genius." I felt a little saddened by this worry. Of course I want my kid to be capable and intelligent, but I don't need him to be the smartest kid in the room. I'm not worried that my kid won't be smart; I'm worried my kid is going to have red hair, which is probably worse and way, way more shallow than worrying my kid won't be a genius. On women and little girls, it's fine, but boys? I don't know. You just can't have someone named Enzo with fiery ginger hair. Those people have names like "Harry" or "Ron" or "William." I did just google "redheaded men" and there are some good looking ones. However, I can't remember meeting IRL a redheaded male that wasn't plain fucking terrible. If you know one, please let me know they exist.] Oh, and before I move on, another (not-so-)quick word on "genius" and intelligence. As a public school teacher, I've encountered a lot of people in my career--some really smart, and some really dumb. But intelligence comes in many forms. I had a kid once randomly assigned to be my TA because he had been banned from AP English in his senior year of high school. He was instead taking English at Lydian Academy, an expensive off-campus site that caters to wealthy kids who can't hack regular school for whatever reason, but only because he and two friends had chosen to torture two teachers for a rather lengthy time by defiling their classrooms, even going so far as to lay brick in front of one teacher's door so that when she arrived in the morning, there was nothing but a brick wall next to her room number where there would normally be a door. In some ways, this is sort of funny and clever, but these kids were mean, and they did plenty of other shitty things to these people (nice people), as well as to vandalize campus in myriad ways, including throwing dirty mattresses into the swimming pool. Administration eventually went so far as to have campus aides and custodial staff stake the place out at night, ninja-style, to try to bring these fuckers down. What eventually did it, however, was that one of these idiots brought the very same bricks to English class that they had used to brick the door. I'm not sure why the kid brought the bricks--his dad was a contractor and he was using the bricks in some sort of demonstration. Maybe he was one of those martial arts brick-breaker people. It doesn't matter. In the end, they were busted, and two of them were expelled, and the third was allowed to remain in school for whatever reason, but could not take English on campus and also had his admission rescinded from Harvard as a result of his actions. This was a book-smart kid. (I can't speak for his companions--one of them I didn't know, and the other had straight D's for the entirety of the year he was enrolled in my AS English III course. After eight parent meetings in which his mother implored an explanation from me as to why her child was not earning decent grades, and every time the answer was, "He doesn't turn anything in," I couldn't really say for sure whether he couldn't hack the work or if he simply had no work ethic. He certainly didn't have a personality worth noting. How he was admitted to AP English in his senior year is beyond me. Also, he had orange, fiery, ginger hair. And his name was either Harry, Ron, or William.) Anyway, regarding the kid who was allowed to stay enrolled--getting into Harvard is no easy task, and this guy recently won $30K on "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" for having a lot of random (although clearly not terribly useless knowledge). And yet... wasn't it pretty dumb, not to mention unkind, to do all of those things to campus and to his teachers? I guess my whole point here is that certain types of intelligence are more highly valued in our society than others, and being book smart doesn't necessarily denote empathy, kindness, or an ability to maintain positive interpersonal relationships. Which I may demonstrate myself in this next portion of today's post, because I am probably going to sound like the world's biggest asshole, or least a minor asshole, maybe, possibly. Let's get to it.
Yesterday, Adam asked me why the mucus plug doesn't have a nicer name. Like, why didn't they name it after the doctor who discovered it or something? My answer to that is that "mucus plug" is pretty much as self-explanatory a name as there could possibly be, and therefore helps one identify exactly what it is that has just expelled itself from one's nether bits. In actuality, the technical word for the cervical plug is "operculum," and the purpose of the operculum is to seal the uterus off from the dangers of the outside world and keep bacteria and other nasties away from a developing fetus. It forms around the twelfth week of pregnancy, and although it can come out at anytime, it will regenerate if necessary, or it won't, if your labor is ready to begin at some point in the near-ish future. (Apparently you can lose your plug weeks ahead of labor, which is sort of a bummer when you are waiting, waiting, waiting for something to fucking happen.) Anyway, I lost mine yesterday (although I think a more accurate description might be that I found mine yesterday, after getting out of the shower. It just, like, fell out and landed on top of the toilet seat. It was weird and gross but not entirely unsurprising or unwelcome, and I am truly sorry, dear reader, if this is TMI for some of you. Don't worry, I immediately disinfected the area), and so I felt compelled to google "mucus plug" just to make sure that's actually what it was (and, truly, I don't know why I felt like I needed to do that. There really isn't anything else it could have been).
Well, as a result of googling, I found myself reading a blog, where women have actually sent pictures of their plugs (vomit) so the world can see examples. The author of said blog invited readers, in the comments section, to post their mucus plug stories, and although I might sometimes claim that nothing can surprise me anymore, that would be false. This is where SAHdz hervilla comes in (and to be clear, all typos are to be credited to SAHdz; all parenthetical asides are all my own) when she comments, "My mucus plug is coming out my nose left nostril ." (No, SAHdz, that's not your cervical mucus plug. That's just regular old snot.) She goes on to reveal that "I remember taking my medication for depression and that very first pill on top did something inside my belly and it felt like it turned my whole insides into the opposite direction this was weird but is there any way you can explain what might be going on with me ." (Well, there are several possibilities. My bet would be that your "doctor" practices "medicine" from a van with no windows outside your local crackhouse and your "antidepressants" are actually a fine-tuned mix of PCP and DMT.) "I been having sex with my husband who is now passed" (are you a necrophiliac?) "but I never got pregnant and I remember his mom telling me 'no more babies' (wait... I thought you never got pregnant?) which is wrong who is she to tell me that ." [She is/was (although it's hard to say, SAHdz, since it sounds like your husband might be dead despite the fact that you've been having sex with him) your mother-in-law and it sounds like she might be onto something there...] "She probably had this done to me." (She had what done? The mucus dripping out of your nose or the internal shape-shifting?) "I never used contraception (unfortunately) yet my husband had a affair n got that woman pregnant." (Jesus fucking Christ.) "Not to mention after my third child (again... I thought you said you never got pregnant?) I got pregnant but I lost it ." (Ummmm. This doesn't feel like a huge travesty to me. #sorrynotsorry) "I took a pregnancy test which came out positive . I think they gave me plan b at that time I was sniffing stuff for all u know I sniffed plan b lost the baby I must have been about five weeks." (Do you really think your mother-in-law slipped you some Plan B to sniff? And if she did, was that really the worst thing you could be sniffing? Are you sure it wasn't just dried, crushed up glue? And why are you snorting shit if you think you might be pregnant? Did you consider that maybe WHATEVER THE FUCK DRUG YOU ARE SNORTING CAUSED YOUR MISCARRIAGE?) "I had painful miscarriage nurse said for me to just lay down n rest when I went to the restroom it came out it was a pretty good size fetus in the toilet ." (Okay, here's the thing, SAHdz. At five weeks pregnant, you do not yet have a fetus. You have an embryo, and it's about the size of a sesame seed or possibly a blueberry, if you are actually seven weeks pregnant and counting from the date of conception as opposed to the LMP. If you drop your sesame seed or blueberry-sized embryo into the toilet, it is, sadly, going to look like a clot of blood. Not a fetus. Sorry.) "I went to the hospital a day or two later n they did pelvic ultrasound claiming I wasn't pregnant well of course I wasn't I had already had the miscarriage." (I'm not a doctor. So who am I to say? However, it takes more than two days for hCG levels to return to normal after a miscarriage. Is it possible your home pregnancy test gave you a false positive? I think your doctor knows better than First Response. Unless he really is just some dude in a van on the corner. Just sayin'.) "He didn't want kid ." (Your husband? The ultrasound technician? The doctor at the hospital? The anti-depressant dealing dude in the van?) "He left me that night in pain at home while he went out with his friend. Anyway the whole flipping of my insides didn't happen until I gave birth to baby number 5 it would have been 6 ." (Again: ummmmmm. What? I am so confused about the entire timeline of this story, which child/pregnancy it is that your mucus plug is escaping your left nostril, how long your dead husband has been cheating on you with his other baby mama, and why you're going to a regular hospital instead of a neuropsychiatric ward.) "But yeah can anyone explain what may be happening ." (Aside from the fact that no one ever explained to you that you don't need a space before a period, no. No one can explain what may be happening.) "This is uncalled for ." (I agree 100%.)
Two minutes after posting this, SAHdz adds a follow-up: "Lol my story sound weird and somewhat strange but it’s the honest truth. Please if u know anything or if ur a doctor can I give me a little bit of info that u think might be going on" (Truth is subjective and your personal truth clearly differs from my reality. I know a lot of things, SAHdz, but I have no fucking idea what's happening to you.)
Another interesting bit of material I came across in my pregnancy/baby reading came from the information packets given to us by our childbirth class instructor. Included was this handout.
Caption: "Your newborn baby will be a stranger at first. Give yourself time to get used to a new face around the house. Soon you will be able to anticipate your baby's needs by subtle differences in facial expression:"
It reminds me of Highlights for Children and People magazine, where they run the "Can you spot the difference?" feature every month. I suppose I never questioned the purpose of this feature, although now I wonder if it is either to A.) Make you feel stupid, or B.) Train you to read your kid's face to determine if they are hungry or simply shat themselves. Either way, I am hoping my baby comes with captions like the handout, because otherwise, I can't see any difference between the six pictures. Perhaps this means I'm destined for failure, or maybe it just means that I haven't given myself time to get used to the new face around the house. My consolation is that if SAHdz managed to squeeze 5 ("it would have been 6") out her mucus hole (or possibly left nostril), maybe there's hope for me. Of course, we don't actually know where SAHdz's 5 living children are, given her Plan B and mescaline anti-depressant sniffing life choices, so maybe I shouldn't use her as a basis for comparison in my potential for success as a parent.
What do you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts about mucus plugs, geniuses, or election day in the comments below! Hooray! (Egregious punctuation in the form of parentheses or exclamation points not required.)
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