When you get toward the end of pregnancy, everyone seems to have suggestions as to what worked for them in terms of going into labor. Just as I was leaving Van’s school, his teacher said, “you know what worked for my daughter? Walking”. It’s all in good nature and I’m in no way offended by the offerings of advice from others; rather, I know the truth – for me – is that labor starts whenever it damn well pleases. That’s because for the only two births I’ve experienced, there wasn’t a pineapple I didn’t eat, a hill I didn’t climb, or a magic wand I didn’t whimsically swirl over my head.
I tried everything; homeopathies, acupuncture, some ridiculous salad people swear by, castor oil, blue and black kohosh, sex, a breast pump to stimulate my non-milk-producing ta-tas, walking, stair climbing, ball bouncing, pleading, membrane stripping… the list goes on…
That’s not to say I’m going to sit around just waiting this time around. I mean the reality is that my days are still pretty full, but my intention is to – once again – be proactive. Not because I think it will work, but because I’m a woman, and dammit, being proactive speaks to the heart of my multitasking soul. I realize, however, that any attempt to control when this baby makes it’s exit is purely for the peace of mind of knowing I did everything in my power to offer it the warmest of invitations into the world. Because I fear induction, mostly. And secondarily because I fear the more time spent inside, the bigger this babe will get.
When I saw my OB at my 36th week appointment, my first – and only – question was “when can you strip my membranes?”. He laughed, because he’s a cocky bastard like that, gave me “the look” and said, “you know that doesn’t work, right?”. I mustered up the smallest of smiles but I really just wanted to spit on him.
Yes, I know none of it works. But, again, I’ll be damned if I didn’t say I tried everything I could.
I was researching an acupuncturist the other day and one of the reviews made me giggle. It went something like this: “Doctor so-in-so is amazing. I had tried everything and finally, at over 41 weeks pregnant, I decided to give acupuncture a try. The next day I went into labor”. Sure, the naive part of me wanted to call for the first available appointment but the logical me couldn’t help but think “lady, you’re 41 weeks pregnant… it was your baby’s time”…
Nevertheless, you better believe I have an acupuncture appointment. Not with Doctor so-in-so, but an appointment all the same. Hashtag: hope.
Each morning I’ve been making myself a cup of hot raspberry leaf tea. I don’t particularly care for it and given the 80 degree “winter” weather that’s filled the majority of the days as of late, I can’t even say I enjoy it. I’ve also been sticking these silly primrose oil tablets up my va-jay-jay every night. Evening conversations go something like this:
Willy: “Do you mind getting up to turn out the light?”
Me: “I would, but I don’t want my oil tablets to fall out”
I’m telling you guys, pregnancy turns me into a complete and utter lunatic come the end. I haven’t reached lunatic status just yet, but the anxiety and impatience and ticking-time-bomb feeling are whirling all around me and soon enough they will take over and I’ll be that toothless whack you see roaming the streets yelling at park benches.
Not because I think what worked for you will work for me, because – again – hashtag: logic, but for the pure sake of humoring me and making me feel less crazy, what kinds of things did you try in terms of at-home, natural labor induction?
Off to cut up some fresh pineapple so I can spend the rest of tomorrow bitching about the sores in my mouth and still being pregnant…
