Maybe never?

"So when are you going to have that baby?" I get asked over and over, really whenever I leave the house.

And my temptation is to say "maybe never?" It certainly feels like that.

Thankfully I understand best practice well enough that I know my medical team would not allow that to happen. Mere biology wouldn't allow a woman to gestate indefinitely. Yet I found myself texting my godmother yesterday, my due date, that I may very well be the first woman in history to be pregnant forever. I will be a circus sideshow, right next to the bearded lady.

The thing of it is, at least when I went overdue with Elijah (by a paltry two days, mind you), I had prodromal labour for two entire weeks leading up to his birth. At least that made it seem like things were happening... or would soon. His was a tidy, quick labour and even relatively easy given how big he was at birth.

This time, I have no indication that I will ever deliver this baby.
My body has taken no interest in the subject.
And I am going mad.

So today I write to make my plea to any and all who read this blog , please pray I go into labour soon. And not "soon," broadly speaking -- that is, he or she will statistically almost definitely be born in 7 days. No, I am gunning for "soon" as in, "before the weekend is over."

I don't manage this waiting time well. I am cranky and impatient and short-tempered. Meanwhile, my two oldest children are very, very eager for the baby to be born and keep asking me "are you in labour yet?" multiple times in a row. Not unlike a persistent child on a road trip perpetually asking his parents "are we there yet?" Soon enough I'll have to threaten to pull over to the side of the metaphorical road to punish them. Yet the "road" implies I'm already en route to have this baby, but everything in my body says "Nope. Not even close."

I can't say I blame my sons for asking over and over. They see me uncomfortably waddling around, they witness me being rude and impatient with everyone... and moreover, they're old enough to understand that babies bring with them a certain amount of risk. While I shelter them from specific details, enough people around us have had children, some of whom have lost children, that they've accumulated stories to amp up their anxieties.

If for no one else's sake, may I have the baby ASAP to calm Noah and Isaiah's nerves.

Oh and to add to my intense moodiness, I should state that we are expected to have a snowstorm this weekend. The sight of the melting snow outside has been a refuge for me lately (I can say to myself, "Ah! Look! Things are getting better!"), only to have that go away yet again, defeating me once again. Meanwhile, the poor weather may make for an... exciting... drive to the hospital.

I am Eeyore now.



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