Unless of course the punctuality in question is related to the critter brewin’ inside a mama’s belly.
Karen put out a call last night to all those ladies that endured more than 40 weeks of pregnancy. Seems that Sam at Temporarily Me is clocking in at 6 days past her “due date,” which, when you are overdue becomes, “The great lie told to you by callus and incompetent medical professionals.”
The idea was to share some funny stories about futile attempts to smoke the baby out. I found that as I waited (twice) for labor to happen, while my due date shrank in the distance, that those around you who are not pregnant find no humor in nontraditional methods of helping baby along.
“I am going for acupuncture to see if we can get things going.”
“Ooooh, oh no, do you really think that’s wise?”
Ummm, yeah, the kid’s been in here for 41 weeks, you’d care enough to take a pot roast out, why not a baby?
“I’m thinking I’ll squirt a little Tabasco on up the old birth canal, coax her out with some heat.”
“Really? That’s sick. You might hurt it.”
Ok, first, you really think I want liquid fire in my lady parts? And second, “it” is a “her,” a baby, unless of course your “it” was referring to my body, in which case, thanks for your concern.
The reality is when you hit the last month, barring extreme home renovations, you are ready. No one really gets it. I tried everything but Castor oil, my desire to avoid diarrhea on the delivery table was the only thing stronger than my desire to have Avery and then Finley arrive.
Sometime today Sam will get a hand by way of an induction, unless of course her little one is like my Fin and the threat of being helped out gets her stubborn hackles up and she scoots herself out before they can administer the drugs.
Either way, let’s all wish Sam a swift delivery and a healthy baby. Today!
My wife and I spent lots of time at the mall, walking in circles and stopping at every bench for a breather. No parlor tricks, just good old fashioned exercise and gravity.
I wish your friend the best . . .
Brian
right NOW sam, right NOW!!!
I'm laughing at the tabasco sauce thing, because just last night my husband said, "Are you sure your doctor said to EAT spicy foods? Maybe he meant something else…"
He has also suggested using a trail of M&Ms to coax him out.
Hmm, tried to leave a comment and got an error message, so let's try this again:
LOL, that is hilarious! This is my first time to your blog and although I've only had time to read a few entries, I can see you are a great writer. I would love to add you to the "my favorite blogs" section of my own blog, if you don't mind.
Thanks for the laugh! š
Go, Sam, go!
Waiting on a baby to finish cooking is the worst kind of torture. I never tried castor oil, either, but I hear it works.
I can't even imagine the frustration of a late baby. Since I'm planning my wedding, the comparison arises–as though I planned and planned for November 1, and then it arrived and I was told that actually, that wasn't my wedding day–it would be at some point in the next few days, hopefully. ARGH it would be terrible.
Fingers crossed for Sam!
I know this aggravated state of waiting for the grass to grow, the water to boil, the damn baby to arrive that you describe. My solution, take on some absurdly ambitious project, like painting a mural on the wall of the nursery and just you wait, you won't get but two strokes of paint up on that wall before baby comes knocking. I know this from experience. I painted one star, one star and there it remained all by it's lonesome to greet us upon our arrival home from the hospital. Wishing you labor.
Best way ever? Sex. Lots and lots of it. It's fun, exercise, and the baby eventually gets so sick of it she'll pop right out! (Well, it worked for me…)
Hee hee, I went to 41 weeks. But I kind of expected a later due date than the medical pros kept insisting on.
All three of my stubborn progeny were late: 10 days, 6 days and 9 days. I really never tried anything beyond a little extra walking and a lot of extra complaining. It was extra leverage to get my husband fetching me ice cream and pillows.
I've never commented here before, though I think I've read the archives entirely…
The tale in our family is that I was born 16 days past the due date, and was only born about 15 hours after being induced. Despite having three more kids after me, I still get the impression I'm not forgiven yet š
My dad bought mom a coffee mug painted with a kangaroo with a little joey in her pouch, with the saying, "There's no place like mom."
I'd jump over there and tell her my secret but I don't think I know her well enough…
Those last few days of pregnancy? When you think you might actually be giving birth to a baby elephant? They suck.
can you say 14 days late?! OMG!!! No wonder I just stopped at one.