Much of life consists of waiting. We make a decision about something important, get ready and then... wait. I'm sure that someone somewhere has tallied how much time we simply spend waiting at stoplights. Pregnancy is one of those waiting games. A husband and wife decide to add another beloved child to their family, and then everyone waits for nine and a half more months until that child makes its appearance. Like most things, the most excruciating waiting period is right at the end. We can wait 40 weeks, but the last fews days are sheer torture.
When I was pregnant with Kathleen, I was optimistic. Perhaps I could buck my genetic trend and actually have a child without oxytocin, and early, too. Kathleen was induced a week late, with my body just realizing that it might be time to kick her out. It seems that I'm just so hospitable that nobody wants to leave.
This time with Sophia I knew better. My due date was May 14, so I expected to be induced a week late, and was pleasantly surprised to find out that with my history, I could get induced on my due date. Which is today. And we don't own a laptop. And I'm not at the hospital. This time it's not physiology to blame, it's scheduling. Who knew that May 14th would be such a popular date to schedule an induction?
So, here I am, again, still pregnant. And will most likely be until Sunday, when I'm going to kick my ox into the mire and be induced. Perhaps I'll take my friend Natalie's offer and go jump on her trampoline for awhile after dinner.