The Never-Ending Story
At this point in the blog's timeline it is clear that I am not a starry-eyed, glowing pregnant woman. Ironically enough I enjoyed Weeks 28-35 more than any other period of pregnancy, and that seems to be when everyone is miserable and the third trimester aches start sinking in.
That being said, I've reached Week 39 (2 weeks past the time I predicted she would make an entrance), and I am positively ready to be done.
Disclaimer (because the internet is unapologetic and thirsty to criticize anyone/everyone/everything):
My daughter is healthy and has been measuring on time (if not a little big) throughout this pregnancy. I am immensely thankful for it, and while I relish the world others live in where "baby will be there when she's ready", it's just one more way of shaming any mother for doing anything aside from cheering and adoring their time as a vessel.
My husband and I are more excited for this baby than anything we've
ever experienced. However, part of that for us is knowing that, God willing, we get to experience life from here on out with our little girl. We are thrilled for all of those life phases, but she has to be here first.
Unpopular Reality
Here's the truth of the situation and why hearing a chorus of "she'll come when she's ready" is particularly frustrating. Whether I like it or not, and whether anyone else cares to admit that it's something to consider in wanting her here: we both return to school 2 weeks after my due date.
2 weeks. As a first time mother I listen to people cluck at me and rattle off that there's a good chance I'll go past due. I get it, I understand statistics, I know.
I usually just nod, smile, and move on. God forbid you engage with those people and even mention the "i" word... induction, the word is induction.
However, these things don't make the reality of our situation any better, and it doesn't make the short amount of time I'll have before starting my last year of law school any less grating.
Despite the annoyance of these well-meaning people and their insistence that my baby arriving late is merely fateful and I should happily accept it as I watch everyone and their mother undergoing repeat cesareans, inductions, and early births, I am left much more frustrated by the constant questions about whether baby is here yet.
The Inquisition
If my mother, mother in law, father, random peripheral-asshole acquaintances, or parents neighbors make another comment or ask another question about the state of the child currently lodged in my pelvis I told my husband I will be driven to the nuclear option of just not telling any of them until after the baby is born.
I don't mean it, and while I know some people are in circumstances where they can do that and not start World War III--I definitely am not.
That doesn't make it any less tempting or consoling to my tired, overwhelmed, anxious mind.
Do NOT ask me about my cervix
I realized upon the first weekly checkup to see if I progressed that as soon as you think you're being nice and candid and share with your mother or mother in law that you're indeed dilated, it opens the floodgates to daily inquisitorial squads of "have you lost your plug yet?", "any cramps?", and my favorite "make sure to listen for the words effacement and station."
Because clearly I owe medical reports on the state of my body to others. Medical reports on numerical values and symptoms that truly have nothing but correlations to a possibility of labor starting soon with no actual predictive value. So we've reverted to a minimal information standard-- I go to appointments and they receive vague information and confirmation that there is indeed a baby and it will indeed be born sometime in the next month.
Just Had Lunch... and oh yeah, the baby was born
What is most trying about the questioning and hovering is the implied notions that a) I am too stupid and young to research/read/figure out what happens during this time so I clearly need their experience to even know the symptoms of labor so that my baby isn't born in the laundry room, and b) that we have not time and again told them that they'll be notified as soon as it's go time.*
* because of how insane our mothers have been I don't intend on telling them we're on the way to L&D until after we're there and the nurses have confirmed that we won't be leaving without a baby. If we did, they would beat us to the hospital.
Nonetheless, our parents will know when this baby is coming. Whether I originally wanted it or not, I'll even let them sit in the waiting room.
The constant pestering, no matter how cute they might think they're coming off (posting "where's my baby at" on my Facebook timeline//telling me any day would be great except for the day my husband's grandmother died), is infuriating.
We love you. We appreciate you..... but
for a first time mom looking at minimal time off after birth who honestly wants nothing more than for this baby to arrive, I am doing my damnedest to get this kid out. I am anxiously awaiting an appointment to let the doctor sweep my membranes. I'm nervous over having to ask for an induction if I glide past my due date.
I am not withholding their child of my own selfish will, and while they continue to fill me with worry that after she's born they'll feel possessive I am still just as anxious to meet her as they are.
It seems like the expectant mothers of the world shouldn't have to vocalize this-- that it should be known and respected, BUT:
we are carrying our babies, not yours.
