For some reason I have 3 due dates. My family doctor gave me the date of May 5th. My midwife determined it was May 7th. My pregnancy app says it’s today which is May 6th. They all are based off of my last menstrual cycle so it beats me why three different dates came up but it’s not really like it matters anyway. A due date is a guesstimate. I know this and I knew this along. I never imagined myself to be a mother who anticipated the arrival of her child so much so that I would try all the witchery behind natural inductions. I am not that mother but here I am struggling to decide if I should try making cinnamon stick tea again or give up.
Babies come when they are ready. I am all for that. It is how it should be. Hell, I would have no problem sucking it up for another three weeks if that is what my little angel both wanted and needed. However, my husband and I have finally encountered the obstacle that puts a dent in our pregnancy and labour plan. Almost every pregnancy comes across a situation where the parents to be are thrown for a loop. Every expecting mother knows that she is not in control of what happens, and when. Again, I knew all of this. It does not change the fact that my biggest fear is that my daughter will be ready just before or after her dad leaves for work. We have 10 days before my love has to leave to go work in timbuktoo 10 hours away. The thought of him having to leave the day after she is born breaks my heart in two. The thought of him perhaps having to leave in the middle of labour destroys me. And the thought of him missing it completely generates instant tears.
The witchery that I have tried proved to be of no success. I never wanted to succumb to using methods to encourage my love earth side. The thought of it made me feel guilty, ashamed, and as if I was a selfish and terrible mother. But then I told myself I would only try things that really only worked if the baby was ready to make her entrance anyway so what is the harm in that right…Despite the whole juiced pineapple with cayenne added, cinnamon stick tea, nipple stimulation, sex, walking, lunging and squatting, cleaning the floors on my hands and knees, eating chocolate (ppfff like I need an excuse for that), adding spice to everything I eat, crying, acupuncture, massage therapy, and my usual homework (red raspberry leaf tea, eating dates, and taking evening primrose oil) I have had no signs of labour. I have not lost my mucus plug and I have not dropped (but she is slightly posterior which I think is an influence here). I have no idea if I am dilated or effaced at all and I do not want to know. Women can be dilated for weeks, months even before going into labour. It means nothing and I would rather not let a petty number mess with my head. After some uphill lunging and lots of walking I get a couple of Braxton hick contractions but they are so quick they barely count. Castor oil is not a method I am comfortable trying unless it is recommended from my midwife and when it is time appropriate (which is far from now). My natural efforts left me nowhere but a little insane to be honest. Waiting, analyzing, and getting nowhere. I do remain somewhat hopeful as I know many mothers show absolutely no signs of labour until boom-it all happens at once.
I know she will come when she is ready I just hope poppa can be here for it. I do have a wonderful doula lined up. I have that support. That is not what I am distraught over. I am not scared of labour or to give birth. I just want my husband to experience that life changing moment with us. A part of me feels petty worrying about this. There are so many women that do this alone and are in unsupported circumstances. One of my greatest friends went through the majority of her pregnancy, labour and delivery, and caring for her infant under the most heart breaking condition you could ever imagine. Her partner suddenly and tragically passed when she was at the brim of her first trimester. Remembering that time makes me feel whiney and silly but yet my anxiousness remains.
Then there are the mind fucks. I am thinking about it too much. Stress will only make things worse. Stop thinking about it. But once you commit to not thinking about it, of course you think about it more. Even if you do find a distraction, a relaxation technique-the outside world does not let you forget. Your phone goes off every 20 minutes. Your most favourite people in the world are genuinely curious of how you are doing and feeling. Excited loved ones want to know if the baby has arrived. The problem is the last thing I need is another reminder of our dreaded countdown. I want to just disappear and return to the world once my family is complete. My irritation level creeps higher and higher with every text. I want to ignore the world. And so I do. But that leads to runner up messages of everyone thinking I have gone into labour. Meanwhile I am sitting behind my phone screen trying not to fall apart. I love my friends and I love my family and I appreciate that we are being thought of. I feel like the scum of the earth for admitting that my teeth cringe when people genuinely just wish to check in. I am an asshole. Third trimester has turned me into an asshole. I have no idea who this person is.
Today may have been the darkest day of my entire pregnancy. Since last night, the tears are nonstop. The bags under my eyes are as swollen as my feet. My thoughts are so scattered and go from hopeful and doubtful back to hopeful and right back down again. I miss myself and today of all days, I miss my brother. 9 years ago today he passed away. He had a rare but aggressive cancer. 9 years is a long time but anyone that has experienced the passing of a close loved one knows that it always feels like yesterday no matter how much time passes. When I first found out that today was one of my possible due dates, I had mixed feelings. How bittersweet would that have been? I realize now that today should not be deemed a day of despair yet a day to celebrate. After 6 months of miserable suffering, my brother was finally set free. Of course it was too soon for my parents, his friends, and I-but I have no doubt that he was thinking it was about damn time. Ewing’s Sarcoma stole his identity, his spirit, and his life at the young age of 19. I have been thinking about him a lot lately. He would have been one of those uncles that would piss you off-teaching your children to say and do things you would never approve of. He would feed my daughter soda pop just to make my skin crawl or buy her bags of candy and let her watch too much TV. He would have been that jokester, that story teller. Although I am heavy hearted that I will not be able to see the two together, I cannot help but smile because I know and I can see how it would have been.
Anyhow, that is my long awaited pregnancy update. I originally planned to blog more about my journey in pregnancy but I found it to be exhausting. It is a very hard miracle to try to put into words. I wanted to just be present and experience every moment for myself. Up until now, I have been blessed with full optimism and the ability to see the good in all. It bothers me that I feel so vulnerable to the pressure but I am sure it will pass. Today’s entry was merely for me. It was a therapeutic share that my spirit needed. Should nobody read it, it will not have gone wasted as I feel clearer, lighter, and rid of unwanted energies. Baby Nutty will be here before we know it and maybe in the end it will not matter as much when that happens to be. Until then, I will hang on to those little shreds of hope and enjoy the last days of providing a comfy home for my first daughter.