Due Date: Belly Update
Well, my due date has come. And gone. I will see my doctor today for my weekly check up. And she's probably going to say, "When do you want to have this baby?"
It's a modern marvel that we have drugs now that can make your uterus contract and send you right into labor. Castor oil is the natural, if not always effective way to get things moving. Not all of them are things you want to move though.
But pitocin has its side effects too. (That I'm now wishing I hadn't read because I really don't need to have those things floating around in my head.) Least among them, my super bloated face that couldn't get any bloatier but did after I was pumped full of fluids and induced with Emmy.
I had this hope that the second baby would arrive sooner, faster, and more naturally than last time. But we are heading into the weekend now, and there's some danger to having an overdue baby wallowing in my uterus like a lost protester wandering around Frank Ogawa plaza wondering what happened to all the tents and justice.
I may have to end this Occupy Vicky movement, with one swift injection. But I'm going to take a long hike first, grab a slice from House of Pizza, and do whatever I can to coax this baby out naturally. I want to experience the breaking of the water (the wind has been broken far too many times to count with this one) and the khee khee kheeeing breaths that I learned from watching lamaze classes in TV movies. I want to tell this baby about how her dad reassuringly told me he packed extra dog pee pads so that if my water breaks, I will have something absorbant to sit on during the car ride to the hospital. Lest any of my membranous fluid seep into his perforated leather seats.
I want to experience the crazy contraction pain the way Mother Nature intended. I want to survive child birth and have my own little war story to tell about how I was getting real in the Whole Foods parking lot when I went into labor and a clerk had to called for a clean up on Aisle 7. I want good material for this blob. You deserve at least that much.
But already this baby is flexing her will and her tiny newly formed muscles. Deadlines and due dates don't mean nothing to Babius. So here I am, waiting to see who makes the next move, and you better believe I won't be pulling anything that will suggest I Jean Quanned this.
Thankfully no one will try to mount a recall based on my decisions.