So by December 21st, the supposed ” end of the world “, I was freakin’ OVER IT. I was super pregnant, 40 weeks and 5 days late and if you had been following my Facebook feed, or had turned it off in annoyance by that point, you know that I was ready to have a damn baby.
Earlier in that week, after trying every natural way possible to get this kid to come out, I had scheduled an induction with my doctor.*sideeye* And to those people on Facebook who gave me crap about waiting until the baby was ready? Yeah, say that to my super pregnant face… My family was all in my house, Christmas was coming and I am absolutely positive that I was ruining my family’s holiday (even though my husband denies that). So we were scheduled… for the day the world was supposed to end. My doctor laughed, assuring me that the last 5 patients he had scheduled had all gone before the induction actually happened.
I’m so glad that I could throw a wrench in his statistics. Because all week long? Not a damn contraction in sight. The week before I had gone into false labor twice, but the week of my induction? Ha. My uterus was giving me, my plans and his stats the big fat finger.
So come Thursday night I was ready. We had our (one millionth) last hurrah dinner and I lay in bed, freaking out that this was it… I was going to have another baby. What was it going to be like? Could I really do this without drugs? What was she going to look like? What this going to hurt??
So imagine my surprise when the phone rang at 5:55am Friday morning and a nurse from the hospital said, “Um, hi… so we had a rush of women go into labor last night and we don’t have a bed or a nurse for you. Sorry, but we’ll have to postpone.”
Hold the freaking phone, WHA?!?!?!?
So for about the gazillionth time that week, I burst into tears and lost my shit. My poor husband and parents couldn’t do anything but stand by while I wept, and yelled, and pitied myself, and wept some more. (Pregnancy makes you bat-shit-crazy… FOR REALZ.) I had been assured by the nurse that if anything changed, they would call me. Don’t worry! Don’t stress! You will have a baby soon! You can’t be pregnant forever! Despite the assurances I was really convinced that I might actually, by some freak of nature, be pregnant for ever. This child was never going to come out. Holy effing shit.
Eventually I was told that I could come in that afternoon, but with such a late start to the pitocin I could easily be laboring all night long. A quick consultation with my doula (who reminded me that there could easily be another rush of pregnant women that would postpone me again) and we decided to just do it.