Jan is 39 weeks pregnant now, and over the past week, her school system has been on it's spring break. So, other than going to her actual grad classes, she's been sitting at home yelling at her abdomen and trying to will our unborn daughter to finally make her appearance. Knowing our karma and overall luck in this world, we've been attempting to hedge our bets on when she'll actually be born based on a number of life factors.
At first, we thought for sure that she would be born last weekend. We had a number of our friends both out of town and out of the country, family members that were busy, and on our social calendar, we had a wedding on a riverboat that we were supposed to attend. Seriously, doesn't a birth-at-sea sound like a movie just waiting to be made?? So we debated long and hard about what to do, over-interpreted every single ache, pain, and cramp, and eventually decided to chance going to the wedding. The entire time we were preparing to go aboard, I kept figuring the moment the boat pulled away from the dock, Jan would lurch forward, look down, and she and BGA would ruin my black dress shoes with a definitive and telling "splash". Fortunately and unfortunately, this was absolutely not the case (don't worry though, the wedding was amazing anyway; built-in designated driver!).
38 weeks pregnant. On a riverboat. WHAT A TROOPER.
So BGA held out for the wedding. But surely this whole past week, with Jan sitting at home stewing over everything and me being either downtown or 30 miles south on various days at work, in class, and at one of my internships, the next best opportunity for karma-birth would be when I would need to traverse the metro system or fight traffic to get back home. So I tried to employ a little cognitive reframing and find the positive in this scenario: my daughter might help me out and get me out of a day of work/class/various other responsibilities. I even downloaded a special ringtone for Jan and set my phone so it would be the only one to go off audibly at all times. ...this did lead to some amazing, butt-clenching moments whilst in the middle of a presentation, and again at a meeting, and one more time while consulting with a supervisor, when Jan called (having forgotten the aforementioned items on my schedule) just to "see what I was doing". Unfortunately, unless the overall goal was to spike my blood pressure, I had no such luck this week.
So here we are, biding our time. Seeing as we've spent a large portion of the evening waiting to see if Jan's stomach cramps were legitimate labor pains or residual indigestion from our dinner at Chipotle, I decided rest was probably our best option, and we retired to the bedroom. As my wife drifts off to sleep next to me (her bedtime strategy was "hey, if it's a real contraction, it should wake me up, right?"), I'm left to reflect on just how well we've played The Waiting Game over the past few days.
I described to a friend of mine this week the frustration that we have been experiencing. I noted that other than our wedding, this birth is arguably the only other thing the two of us have been prepared for with time to spare. I likened it to having all of the Christmas shopping and gift-wrapping completed on December 10th, and just having to wait out the rest of the month, staring at a decorated tree. I mean, the nursery is painted; the crib is assembled; the baby's clothing is washed, folded, and organized (which is more than I can say for our own); the hospital bags are packed; the camera lenses are cleaned and the batteries are charged; heck, even our diaper bags are prepared. Yes, plural... I bought my own diaper bag. A durable black vinyl backpack with insulated compartments and adorned with our college logo, I can now make carrying a baby look like I'm going on a covert op.
I even took the opportunity to freshen up on my childcare skills, reviewing important points (e.g., feeding strategies) and unimportant points (e.g., when do I have to first clip her fingernails?). Remembering the old adage, "If you don't use it, you lose it," after opening a new package of swaddling blankets I decided to practice my technique. Unfortunately, without an actual baby, I was forced to find a reasonable analog:
Clearly, this is the look of a willing assistant. At least my pride is evident.
I'm pretty confident with my abilities to swaddle, and even diaper at this point. Did anyone see that episode of The Office (American) where Jim was preparing for Pam to go into labor, and the opening sequence was him diapering everything? If this kid hangs in there for another week, I swear Jan is gonna wake up diapered.
So meanwhile, while I put our friends, family, and pets into swaddling blankets and Pampers, Jan is trying to NOT do things (e.g., not being on any Yahoo forums related to pregnancy). Her biggest frustration has been mostly the internet and her telephone. Everyday she tells me about how she's going to start blocking calls from people who ring her up to ask, "So, did you have the baby yet?" Oddly enough, this is the same reaction we get when we see some friends and family face-to-face, too. While we do enjoy benefiting from the experiences of those around us, every now and again someone will make sure to tell her that this baby will certainly be late, or that soon we'll wish this kid was still inside, or that our lives will only become more stressful from here on out and she should try to relax and enjoy this time. THESE FOOLS, with their logic and experience; have they never dealt with another pregnant woman before??
To the best of my knowledge, I have never been pregnant. I have, however, been in exhausting, frustrating, and physically taxing situations. I can state from experience that fairly close to the last thing I wanted to hear in those incidences was that they would last longer than I was anticipating. For me, at this point I have become the enforcer of this pregnancy: I get to screen the incoming phone calls, e-mails, and comments made during social engagements. ...and as I told another friend and current first-time-dad-to-be this evening, I've also become quite the waiter and food-delivery-boy. We haven't had any really odd food cravings as far as mixtures are concerned (alas, no pickles and ice cream), but definitely a healthy variety of dinner selections: Vietnamese, Greek, American, Italian, Mexican. Oh, if only my wallet and passport could get pregnant instead of my wife!
I'm told that this comparison is mostly accurate.
I honestly wasn't sure if I was going to get in another post before BGA arrived. We've been trying to find ways that we can potentially induce labor, even ones in which we thought we would never engage. Yes, I know there are a few "classic" ones out there. Let me say this: never before in my life have I had so many people, from so many different social and professional circles, be this concerned over my, um, "bedroom affairs". Seriously, WHERE WERE YOU ALL WHEN I WAS IN HIGH SCHOOL??
In order to be discreet and enigmatic, let me just say this: there are some we have tried and some we have not. Yes, we're wearing holes in our walking shoes. No, she is not drinking castor oil. Yes, we have tried verbal harassment directed at Jan's midsection. No, we cannot find raspberry leaf tea. ...We vacillated for a great deal of time on the spicy food thing. Herein, we thought our logic was sound: there are certain digestive effects that have been known to happen to people while delivering a baby, and perhaps we shouldn't have spicy comestibles play a feature role in that performance. In the end, though, desperation took over and we decided that the gamble would be worth it and that we could give Chipotle a shot tonight.
Subsequently, I took a nap on the couch, only to wake up hours later to observe Jan mediating a debate of sensations between her digestive and reproductive systems. However, since that all began back when Topanga's parents told her they were getting a divorce and she called off her engagement with Cory, and now I'm watching them on their honeymoon, it's fairly safe to say that Jan's gastrointestinal tract has won the day. So now it is a very real fear of mine that on Monday we'll be back where we've been every week for the past month: at the OB/GYN's office, being told that every single thing is progressing exactly as it should... except for this kid's plan for egress.
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