Induction Dilemma

The last week of pregnancy has to be about the longest week of a woman’s life. In my experience you waddle around like a walking time bomb, anxiously waiting to go off.

People ask you how you are doing with a hope in their eye that you’ll say you’re feeling like today is the day. I swear half of them would be thrilled to hunch over and catch the baby for you right then.

You feel pressure (emotional and physical). You feel anxious. And you feel helpless.

I am certain that I am a walking-time-bomb dud. Despite my best efforts to fling myself into full-on labor, it has evaded me.

And so here I am once again with the near-insanity induction dilemma.

I’ve been against women wanting to get out of being pregnant early all my life – until I delivered my third son stillborn at 37 weeks.

I used to think that unless there was a medical emergency, women should grin and bear it. They should hang in there pregnant until nature set them free. I have heard stories of women scheduling inductions around college semester schedules or upcoming vacations. I still think those women are ridiculous.

But you better believe that last week at my weekly check-up and non-stress test, I asked my doctor the golden question, “Would you be willing to start me early?”

Thank heavens he is a compassionate man who tries to understand my stress. He doesn’t shrug me aside and tell me not to worry. He gives me his after-hours cell phone number and tells me to call anytime I need to.

Luckily, he said he’d help me out one week before I’m due. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. I may get my mental health back.

Because being pregnant this far along after I buried a full-grown, beautiful baby boy is crippling. There are days (like yesterday) when I nearly end up in a crying fit massaging my stomach trying to get my baby to move. Sometimes she’s just peaceful. Sometimes that is enough to nearly put me over the edge.

It’s times like that when I drink a lot of sugary Kool Aid to get her going. If you see me waddling with a crazy look in my eye you’ll know why.

I can’t tell you how much I dream of having my water break. I dream of some serious at-home contractions that lead me to a car ride to the hospital.

But then again I also dream of holding my beautiful, brand new baby while she is alive. That dream often turns into nightmares these days when I can’t remember the last time she’s kicked.

And so here I am, breaking my moral code and planning to get induced a few days before my 40-week due date. I have some time left to go into labor naturally, but at the rate I’m going, I don’t think it will happen considering my body started dilating weeks ago but still hasn’t kicked into full-on-labor gear.

Call me weak, call me impatient, call me a stressed-out lunatic. I will answer to all three.

If she’s ready, let her come before I have to check in at the mental ward.

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