There's an opera coming up - Don Giovanni. I've never been to this particular opera, but it's the boy's favourite (he loves Mozart, which is surely a little unusual for a Metallica and Marilyn Manson fan). He's really keen for us to go, and I would be too, except there's one small thing which makes me hesitate before plonking down the credit card and committing us to a couple of not-too-cheap, non-refundable tickets.
By the date of the performance, I will be around 35 weeks pregnant; there's a good chance I'll have to pee during during acts (a big no-n0), and an even better chance that the kicking will distract me from the warbling. There's even a small chance that I'll go into labour in the middle of the show - wouldn't that be embarrassing. What if there's a fire? I'd have to get my hefty and not-too-agile self down all those stairs in the midst of a crowd of panicking non-pregnant people.
I asked the midwife whether she thought it would be a bad idea to plan to go to a three-hour show at that stage. She wasn't too helpful though; it depends on the individual and can't be predicted how comfortable, or not, something like this would be.
Then my boss told me that, at 35 weeks, she got on a long distance flight between Singapore to New Zealand. That's 10 hours in the air plus transit time in airports. Travelling in a plane doesn't quite compare, since once you're in the air you can get up and go to the toilet or whatever (though tight-fitting, apparently it is possible to manoeuvre a third-trimester tummy into and out of an airplane toilet). Still, I bet she spent a lot of time sitting in a cramped space though.
So I took the plunge. I was careful to choose aisle seats though, because even if the boy can stretch out his long legs in front of him, I'll be more secure knowing I can get to the ladies' without accidentally hitting someone with my bum or my tum.