It was July 2001, and I was 9 months pregnant. Due in just weeks, I was as big and round as a cage ball but not as much fun.
When you’re 9 months pregnant, you shouldn’t do more than sit on the couch in an air-conditioned house and watch “A Baby Story” on TLC. That is unless you have and another child. Who plays baseball. Whom you’re reassuring will be loved and cherished the same even after his new baby brother/sister comes along.
Therefore, I was 9 months pregnant and sitting on the sideline of a baseball field in July. Watching 11-year-old boys play what can be one of the slowest sports around.
And the absolute WORST part was not the baseball or the heat.
They only had porta-potties at the field.
Morning sickness ain't got NOTHING on what THIS can do to a pregnant lady!
Do you know what a porta-potty smells like in…July heat…to a pregnant woman who sense of smell is on steroids?
Vomitatstic.
And what pregnant woman do you know who doesn’t pee every 5 minutes?
I feared going to the games because I knew exactly what would happen. I wouldn’t drink water, and then I would start having Braxton-Hicks contractions because I was dehydrated. Then I would drink so I didn’t go into early labor, and then I had to pee.
All I wished for in those moments was a bathroom with toilets whose contents got flushed and not marinated in 90-degree temps.
So I got resourceful like smart mommies do. I drove to a nearby McDonald’s and peed in their bathrooms.
And sometimes I got fries with that.
FOOTNOTE: I actually went into labor at my son’s final all-star baseball game – jumping up during his infield-fly catch. And I stuck it out ‘til the game ended without anyone except my hubby knowing that I was having contractions every 5 minutes. The next morning I had another boy, who still loves to hear the story of how his mommy went into labor at a baseball game!
This post was inspired by MamaKat’s Writer’s Workshop and this prompt:
What did you wish for most? Write about a time when it was just too hot.
Fuoco Nelle Vene 