The Red Popsicle

Last night, I got a chance to talk to my friend Rachel who lives in Seattle. She has been great to talk to during my pregnancy, because she has two kids and is not scared to be honest about pregnancy and childbirth. There are just so many gross and/or scary things involved that nobody tells you! And let me also take this opportunity to say how great it is to have a friend who you know will always be there for you when everyone else around you seems to be going crazy. Ahem. Anyway.

As I have mentioned before, I am terrified of having this child exit my body. To make me feel better, Rachel was nice enough to tell me the entire birth story of her daughter, Piper, on the phone last night. Rachel has the best (weirdest?) memory of anyone I know. I am sure she could tell you what class she had 3rd period in 7th grade, who the teacher was, who sat beside her, and what grade she got on the final exam. So, I was trying to express this to Fred, and our conversation went like this:

ME: Rachel just told me Piper's entire birth story, right down to the red Popsicle.

FRED: (says nothing, looks horrified)

ME: What? She has a crazy memory. She remembers what color Popsicle they gave her at the hospital 4 years ago.

FRED: Oh. I thought that "red Popsicle" was a euphemism for something to do with delivery, and I was terrified!

My poor husband has endured so much during my pregnancy, that he is now afraid of Popsicles.