“When were you due?”
“How long will you go till you’re induced?”
“I bet you’re tired of being pregnant?”
As I write this, I’m approaching the “two weeks overdue” mark. Most every woman I know says the last month is horrible, and you’re just “done.”
For me, the last month was probably the best.
I went for seven straight days without throwing up (something that hasn’t really happened since March). I haven’t been tired. Nothing really “hurts” (other than the intermittent and rare bought of Braxton Hicks) and I can (finally) see a commercial featuring poultry and not gag. My only complaint would be I wake every 30 to 90 minutes to go to the bathroom — all.night.long. But, hey, as one of my OB/GYNs said: I’ll be one of the rare women who may just sleep more with a newborn, rather than less.
So many women are in a rush to give birth. They schedule c-sections or beg their doctors for inductions. They’ll gorge on spicy food, lift heavy things, have sex or go for a ride on a bumpy road hoping to get that kid out.
I’d rather he or she stay in there as long as it’s safe (up to about 42 weeks). The longer I’m pregnant, the better the baby develops (in theory). In fact, I’m kind of scared about an induction. The idea of forcing what should (hopefully) come naturally sounds … uncomfortable.
Sure, the kid’s getting big(ger) and labor surely won’t feel like a Swedish massage. But, as much as I fear the pain (and that dreaded “e” word — episiotomy) I embrace the idea of brain development, and beefing the child up so he or she can be as healthy and well-developed as possible.