Voice

I wondered what would happen if Julie went into labor today before being able to vote. Do they do last-minute absentee ballots in the hospital? Even if they do, they wouldn't be counted until later anyway, and you wouldn't feel like it counted as much. And maybe we wouldn't get around to it; maybe our princess, the addition to our little monarchy, would prevent us from participating in the democracy.

I also thought about possible long waits in line. We arrived with a stool for her to sit on, and I had brainstormed a brief arsenal of appeals to persuade people to let Julie butt in line. "Attention everybody, my wife promises not to give birth this second if you let her vote ahead of you." But we got right in; the whole ordeal took perhaps ten minutes.

Julie had her weekly doctor appointment today. Blood pressure is fine, and cervix door is still closed, although it's effacing, which means thinning. My hair is effacing, but I doubt Julie would appreciate this similarity. When she said, "I'm effacing," I did not say, "Wow, I totally know what that's like." Likewise, after Julie experiences the pain of labor, I will not go back to work and come home and say, "Gosh, I'm tired from laboring today." See, I'm always thinking.

And now we'll sit and wait to find out which president will run the country during our daughter's early years. Which name will we teach her to say?

*Update*
"Bama! Bama!"