I got the sweetest text message from my daughter Jessica in Chattanooga yesterday afternoon.

She’s like 23 months pregnant and the little gal in the oven just doesn’t want to come out.

While I’m sitting on a stool in the mall in a women’s clothing store, I realized I was bored. I had been sitting there for 74 minutes waiting on my queen to try on some clothes and decided to send my daughter a short note to see how she was (her due date has passed).

And I got the sweetest message back: “I lost my mucus plug.”

Hmmmm. Was this an appeal to
a) help her find it?
b) be appropriately saddened at the lost, or
c) a good thing?

Having been through this before — admittedly my most current experience with it goes back more than 25 years — I chose “c” as the correct answer.

At that point, as I ruminated on said mucus plug, I realized that I didn’t know what one looked like. “Mucus” doesn’t conjure up the most pleasant image and “plug” made me think of those black rubber stoppers I once used in chemistry lab to create a vacuum in glass flasks. The two images didn’t seem to blend well. I decided that it didn’t really matter and that I really didn’t want to see one anyway.

I’m simply happy that my daughter
a) had one
b) lost it, and
c) was excited

Love. It expresses itself in such unique ways… 🙂

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