I’ve never been good at waiting. I’m never late and get very annoyed by people who are. I know it’s different with babies as she doesn’t know when she’s supposed to come out, after all, but come on… I’d imagine for women who enjoy pregnancy this bit is difficult; for those of us who’ve hated it, it’s a nightmare. As I’ve been subconsciously thinking there was the possibility of her being early even while acknowledging that many first babies are late, I’ve been pretty much expecting labour for 3 1/2 weeks now.
So off to the midwife this week for a standard check up. All is well except that I’m still pregnant.
“Do you feel it’s gone quickly?” the midwife asks and laughs when I reply that it feels like it’s been forever. But it does – morning sickness feels a long way away, let alone a non-pregnant state.
Friends and family have been calling, emailing or messaging more than usual. I get concerned about calling either set of parents away from the usual times in case we get them all excited for no reason.
And everyone’s suggesting old wives’ tales as a way of helping her along. I’m ignoring most of them – I can’t imagine eating an entire pineapple while having sex and acupuncture will actually make a difference, although it would be a challenge I suppose.
Aside from those, I have been trying to prepare for labour and an active birth by walking a lot and massaging my perineum (it’s supposed to help prevent tearing). I won’t go into details about the second item but let me say this: the instructions on how to do it don’t take into account how hard it is to insert digits where they’re needed when you’ve a bloody great bump in the way.
Walking has helped though. We’ve been to National Trust places and nature reserves and round parks and cemeteries and who knows where this week. The baby finally moved down into position on Thursday. My husband was delighted to see how it affected my walking and announced my waddling style to all in the supermarket. The sod.
And it does feel like other things are happening too – I’ve been dizzy and nauseous for periods of time, presumably from the hormones, so something’s going on. But still nothing.
On Tuesday, a week after the due date, a midwife will visit to do a membrane sweep. A friend reliably informs me it’s less like a sweep and more like a rummage. But let’s hope it does something – I don’t think my feeble bones can handle much more of heaving this lump around.
It may not be my normal midwife though, which bothers me a little bit. It’s silly really, of course they have a rota for stuff like this, and they’ve all been very nice so far, but her manner suits me more than the others so if someone’s got to rummage around up there, I’d rather it was her. Can’t be helped.
I did say I wouldn’t complain if the sun shone didn’t I? Oh dear.
I now need to mentally prepare myself for the possibility of this lasting another week.