I love reading the words of bloggers who turn the trials of everyday life into whimsy; their families' everyday lives writ large as meaningful warm humour. I wish I had that knack. You'd think it would be easy. DH and I both resemble huge nerds, though without the technical skill; DH is very witty; we're gestating a new life form, have a cat who is so crazy attached to me he hurls himself at the door if I dare try for some privacy in the bathroom, and have a goldfish with dysthymia and another with anger management issues. You'd think the comedy would write itself.
Sadly for my purposes, no one is funny on cue. When I look to my household in need of inspiration, everyone acts like I've just told them there'll be no more grocery shopping till all the leftovers are gone. I sit down next to DH with a notebook, but all he says his "stop...bloody...staring at me! Go find something to do" (as if I can go jogging or put up shelves at this stage). Xander refuses to be cute to order. And goldfish have their reputation for a reason. I think I'm dragging everyone down.
Have you ever been heading on your way out the door at a party only to think "what the hell...one more drink" and head back for more? That's what my unborn child has done. After several weeks of being engaged - locked, loaded and ready for birth, head burrowed down in the exit tunnel - Pinky has apparently decided it wants a last look around, bounced up, and is taking a tour all around the abdomen, harpooning organs on the way.
There are some situations in life when everyone has advice (if you've ever wanted "suggestions", try announcing at the office you've got insomnia). An overdue or stubborn baby is one of these. Normally I hate unsolicited advice, but by now I'm willing to try anything. I watch TV with my butt in the air and chin on the coffee table. I've spent a fortune on homeopathic remedies (and normally I disdain bottled water). I've had sex with a curry. I've no idea if any of this stuff will work. How do you measure it? According to one study I read, acupuncture is 88% effective for inducing labour in term pregnancies - what does that mean? The other 12% of women never have their babies at all? However, I'm determined to get this baby out of me by hook or by crook, without involving a scalpel if possible, so I'm going to keep trying all the bizarre methods to be found on Google. Eel tea - I never thought my life would come to this.
UPDATE: After my latest midwife appointment, things are actually worse. Pinky is "free", meaning if it was any less ready to be born it would be coming out of my ears. So I've resorted to more serious natural induction methods. Though I'm not sure waving a teddy between my legs and cooing "come on darling" will help...
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