Local legend has it that dinner and an IPA at Davidson’s will send a woman into labor. So, after two days of walking two and from work, repeated trips to the park, foolhardy leaps from swing sets, the odd skipping jaunt down the street, we hied ourselves to the proverbial fountain of labor. Neither a fan of beer nor a person truly comfortable with drinking while pregnant, I scanned the menu and tried the next best thing – Spiciness.
Buffalo Chicken in a Jalapeno Cheddar Wrap.
My meal was complemented by the kind of laughter that only comes along once in a great while. I had commented on the bold shade of red that a guy in the restaurant was wearing, Sean quickly pointed out that it was more of a jersey than a shirt. I gave a snort, it felt good. As we waited for our food I took in the sounds around us, clinking glasses, laughter, loud ocnversations. The group at the outdoor table across from ours was being quite rowdy. A woman with expensively bleached and styled hair was holding court, her top was a bronzey-fleshy number, quite tight and low cut. She wore standard issue body hugging, low-rise black pants and heels that were almost nice looking enough to not be called fuck-me pumps.
She was attractive in a very showy, trying really hard kind of way. I shifted in my seat and realized that I was sitting with my legs so wide that as I leaned forward my belly touched the seat of my chair. It was odd. I looked at Sean and smiled, “You know, even though I’d really like to have my waist back, I’d rather sit here with my belly touching my knees than be sitting there with the tag of my thong sticking out of my pants.” Sean turned, spied the 2 inches of hot pink tag poking out of the woman’s pants and snorted. He lifted his head, looked me in the eye and said with a nod of his head toward the red-shirt, “Yup, later on she and old red-shirt over there are going to play a little bit of flag football.”
It was such a preposterous image, so unexpected, that I let out a laugh so abrupt and explosive heads turned. The laughter did not abate for at least a couple of minutes. We spent nearly another hour laughing, my whole body relaxed and I thought, if I were a baby, I’d choose now, in the height of this perfect night to arrive.
3 hours passed and I was still resplendently with child. About thirty minutes later Sean tried massaging the pressure points our acupuncturist friend recommended.
Two more hours passed and contractions began in earnest. Yay. Two exciting hours of Ok, now we’re getting somewhere. Quickly punctuated with Damn, we’re right back where we started.
So this morning I went for an acupuncture session. 90 delicious minutes of relaxation bordering on a comatose state. I had hoped that it might do something for labor, but no. I’ve gone through today knowing that there is nothing I can do, she’ll come when she comes, yet I am still adding cayenne to my food, walking as fast as I can, bending frequently and lifting heavy things. If I were her I’d come out just to put an end to the ridiculous attempts of her mother to hurry her into the world.
At midnight tonight I’ll officially be overdue.