My parents came to visit on Tuesday. They called it a "Dry Run."
For the big event. You know. In seven days (according to my LMP — Last Menstrual Period) or ten days, according to the measurement of the bean at that first 8-week ultrasound, or 24 days, if you count from day ten to the maximum two weeks late that a baby can be without being induced to leave the womb, or forcibly removed, by medical authorities.
They claimed that they'd never flown this one particular airline to this particular airport before, and so they wanted to test it out. Upon further investigation, ulterior motives became clear.
Motive 1: Said airline offers a special status for passengers who fly a certain number of miles in a year. So this one-day visit is a strategic effort towards reaching their total for 2007.
Motive 2: While my parents have seen me at least once a month this whole pregnancy, and they had originally decided we could forgo November, the thought of seeing me this big was too hard to resist.
Motive 3: It was the day before my dad's birthday.
So, up they came. First they came to the house. Then we drove into the city to have a fancy lunch with Scott. We were invited up into his office so that my parents could meet everyone, and everyone could see how big I've gotten. Big in a cute way, of course.
As we waited for the elevator to go back down to the car, each of my parents put one hand on my belly, and reported feeling the baby move.
At fancy lunch, my father and husband ordered the same appetizer and entrée. The waiter made some remark about the identical meals and my father said, "My son! The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
Ummm... son-in-law. What was my dad saying? I couldn't explain to the waiter.
After fancy lunch, my parents and I went to the hospital for yet another of my twice-weekly non-stress tests. This was useful on the Dry Run front as it gave my parents a chance to see the hospital, experience the hospital parking lot, scope out the various waiting areas, and, not to mention, hear the baby's heartbeat, and see the bugger in situ.
So they did. Heartbeat. Ultrasound. Long, long walks in between, from one wing of the hospital to another. "This IS a pain," my dad remarked, sympathetically.
We returned to the house. I'd exhausted them. They both took a nap on the couch. And then it was time to return the rental car to the airport. Fly home.
Next visit will be it. The real thing. Gulp.