The last time I saw Kristin, she was a thousand weeks pregnant and feisty because she wanted a cocktail and some sushi. Were it any other pregnant lady, I’d have been all, “One drink won’t kill your baby, lady. So have one and cork it.” But not with Kristin. That’s my godchild in that belly of hers, the darling little ball of love that kicks my sister whenever she feels Kristin’s belly.

I don’t wholly care when it’s other people’s babies. But he’s not just anyone’s baby– he’s Kristin’s baby. He’s special. And he might be coming early.

Kristin being pregnant, much to my mother’s dismay, has not compelled me at all to start pining for a family of my own. Do you know what it’s like when your best friend, the girl who taught you about vodka and mini skirts and boys and love and heartbreak and growing up, suddenly announces that he can feel her hips separating and that it REALLY HURTS? Women are built to do this. I get that. And it’s all worth it in the end. I get that, too.

But in order to snuggle Jonas, she’s first going to have to push him out. OF HER VAGINA, in case you missed the tutorial on where babies ACTUALLY come from. Vaginas, people. Gah.

When it hit me that she was going to really do this, I just kept looking at James and saying, “Her vagina!” And he would just solemnly nod in agreement with me, that this is totally batshit nuts.

Kristin emailed me this morning to tell me that Jonas’ heartbeat was low, an that her pelvis is small, and that he’s rather large, and that her cervix is in the wrong place. Not on her arm or anything, she assure me. But tilted. And apparently this could all lead to a c-section.

I am, apparently, the only one relieved that her vagina may not be involved in giving birth. They may induce her, or go c-section, but either way the new forecast shows Jonas slated to arrive sometime next week.

And at th end of all of this, I’m standing here, saying my prayers, but thinking, “… The fuck? How can your cervix be in the wrong place?”

Childbirth, perhaps, is not for me. I’ll give godmothering a go first.

-M.