Hi Internet. How did you spend your last week? I spent mine enjoying several bouts of false labor, and starving my mother. She flew in at the onset of the first round of womb teasing, and I proceeded to hold her hostage for nine days, only feeding her table scraps and the occasional crust of bread. I wasn’t torturing her on purpose or anything, it’s just that menu planning has become an astronomically unobtainable goal at my house. No two people are willing to eat the same meal, and the result is no meals are made.
My dad ended up coming down on Friday just to feed us. No joke.
My dad is an amazing cook, and he spent all weekend in the kitchen working his own special brand of magic. Everyone was much happier with him around feeding us. Go figure.
My dad also has magical birth-inducing powers. At least he did for my two sisters. Both of them ended up delivering their children shortly after my dad arrived at their respective births. My fetus is immune to his charms. So immune, in fact, that she is still residing within my womb, warm and comfortable, subsisting on ice cream and red raspberry tea.
This past week was a very odd week. I spent the majority of it being stared at expectantly by people. It gave me a lot of anxiety. I felt pressure to spontaneously begin to labor. With each of my children I have had a clock looming over their birth, because I wanted my mom to be there, and I lived across the continent from her. With Karis, my mom arrived just in the nick of time. Karis came early due to premature rupture of the membranes (PROM), and we assumed Brecken would be early too, so she flew out before my due date for him. As the days sped by, I felt nervous that he wouldn’t be born during her visit, so I let my doctor sweep my membranes. (That’s just a way of jump-starting labor if your body is ready. The doctor sweeps a finger between the amniotic sac and the uterine wall, and it releases hormones and maybe gets things started.) I always felt bad about that. I think if I left it up to Brecken, he would have been born two days later. Two days isn’t a big deal, but the whole idea of letting him choose his own birthday really stuck with me.
That is my gift to my daughter. I will let her choose her own birthday. Even if that means my mom wont be able to attend her birth. (Which is actually the case, because my mom went home this morning, and my baby is still unborn.)
All week people kept giving me advice on starting labor. What to eat, what to drink, how to sit, telling me to have sex, to diffuse essential oils, to massage certain muscle groups, to stimulate my nipples… “Relax, you guys!” I thought. “She technically isn’t even due yet. She’s not late, she’s just later than my previous pregnancies.”
This time around, I’m not doing anything to jump-start labor. Having sex and drinking tea are all fine and good, and that’s not what I’m referencing. I mean I wont be sweeping my membranes, or doing acupuncture, or (obviously) using drugs like the dreaded Pitocin. I’m just letting my body do its thing.
Having my parents leave this morning was kind of a relief in that there was no more pressure to produce a baby. The time limit had been maxed out. We didn’t make the cut off. Now she can just be born whenever. (Seriously, though, she needs to make up her mind! This every-other-day false labor nonsense is really getting annoying.)
Anyway, I’m off to watch The Walking Dead and soak in an epsom salt bath. (Yes, I’m writing this post Sunday night to post Monday morning. I’m just like the big time Hollywood talk shows that tape in advance!) I’ll be sure to let you guys know if I do anything exciting like bring forth life into the world.