And where was I? Ah, yes. Vomiting. Or rather, NOT vomiting, thanks to my trance, assisted by my magical hypnobirthing CD. This greatly encouraged me, and I was very optimistic about making it through the entire labor drug-free. So when Nora’s due date arrived, I was ready. My bag was packed. (Well, my bag was metaphorically packed. I didn’t actually pack it till several days past her due date.) (I hate packing.)
Sadly, despite the due date’s being CLEARLY MARKED on the calendar, Nora was not ready then. When she still wasn’t ready a week later, I was once again forced to choose between the hypnobirthing philosophy of non-intervention and what I secretly really wanted - to get that baby the hell OUT. I was pretty damn miserable by the end, there, so when I had my last regular appointment on my due date and the nurse practitioner told me I was – wait for it – ZERO CENTIMETERS dilated, it was not too difficult for her to convince me to schedule my induction for eight days following. So I did, even though by rights and birth plan, I should have insisted upon waiting until the last possible minute. But, damn. Zero centimeters! I couldn’t work with that!
I spent the next week curb-walking, eating eggplant, and weeping. The first two things were supposed labor-inducing activities, the last was just what one does when one is a bajillion-months pregnant with a toddler at home. One weeps. On Saturday, three days post-due, Andrew and I took Jack to the park and while we were there I thought I felt the start of something. I had somewhat regular contraction-like twinges for an hour or two, and we even made a few phone calls to figure out where Jack might be spending the night. But then they passed, and there was much weeping and rending of garments.
Fortunately, I only had to make it five more days, but you will have to wait until Part the Third to find out whether I did or not, because my time is up. (Spoiler alert: I made it.)
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