The Wait

Okay, here I am six days overdue with baby #2. Brief history, W was induced at nine
days over, so I guess you can say that my babies are not really in a hurry to be born.
That’s okay, I suppose; I like to hit the snooze and sleep in whenever possible as well.

I vacillate between being flattered that my kids love my womb so much they never want
to leave, and on the other hand finding myself a little resentful that I may face another
Pitocin-fuelled labour. Come on, baby, I paid a lot of money to learn how to hypnobirth
you in to this life, so let’s get going. (Not very Zen of me, I know.)

As I write this, I am waiting for them to call my name for my post-due ultrasound at
my OB's posh fertility clinic. Usually I see her in a hospital, but this is clearly the job
that pays for her cottage. There is a waterfall in the waiting room and classical music
playing. It is actually making me very contemplative as, judging from atmosphere around
here, I have nothing to complain about. I am healthy, my kids are healthy, and yet...I do
complain. Is it just human nature?

With W I tried every trick in the book: pineapple, sitting on a balance ball, walking, sex,
acupuncture...and more. But nothing worked. This time I just kind of assumed that
what everyone says (“second babies come quickly”) is true; that I would not need to do
anything except wake up one day and push a few times. Not true.

I envisioned getting everything organized and then sitting down to check my emails just
as my water broke in a light trickle that could easily be contained without a package of
Depends undergarments. Then I would call my doula, we would meet in the room and
have a latte, and my light hypnosis would carry me on a strawberry mist in to bliss. HA
HA!

I know I am not great with change and I know I am a bit of a stress case. And yes, I
know that you need to be relaxed to go in to labour (ideally). I keep thinking of this story
I’ve heard about how cats will stop labouring and find a new place if they aren’t 100%
sure they are safe. Well, what the fuck, cats? Apparently they have never been married
with toddler and had to listen to an OB and a doula full of mostly conflicting advice....
Geez, safe! I don’t know — I’m just hoping for fast.

I’m getting to the point where people’s well-meaning texts, tweets, and emails are
becoming severely irritating. (Chalk it up to hormones.) My mom says she can’t sleep,
she’s so excited. This makes me want to punch her. I’m not sure why.

So, I will conclude by saying my new mantra: Come on, Baby!

-Tightrope Mama