Pregnancy like writing is a waiting game: wait to see if a query will pay off, wait through the the editing process, wait for releases etc. Pregnancy requires waiting for doctor’s appointments, test results and finally labor. By now I thought I’d have established a backlog of patience. I haven’t. I find myself glancing at the calendar and saying, “to hell with it. I want it over now.”
Perhaps it’s a biochemical reaction, this lack of patience, that drives the fear of delivery away from a rational mind. After all what sane person would say, “yes, I think I want to have a 6-8 lbs baby rip through me, thanks?” But I do, I want it to be over. I’m tired of the sleepless nights, hours spent tossing and turning, all too frequent bathroom trips, the weight on my back, swollen hands and feet, heartburn, not being able to fit into my clothes. The list could go on and on. And of course everyone is an expert on how to induce labor (make lasagna, sweep the carpet, go for a long walk etc). Will it work? Time will tell.
So I’ve come up with my own plan because I think the idea of a 12-12-12 baby is pretty cool. It can only happen the first twelve years of every century. I’ll start by giving myself a manicure/pedicure (yes, I can still reach my toes–super proud of that). Then I’ll do a bunch of “strenuous” things like cleaning, walking, dancing, squatting, maybe cooking and hope one of these will do the trick. I’ll even try meditation, something, some where is bound to pay off. There’s always the possibility that nothing will work, I’ll be tired, disappointed and have to wait anyway.