My first child was induced. I had been in labor for 80 hours (true) when the powers-that-be pulled the plug on my natural childbirth efforts. Seven hours later I had a beautiful baby kangaroo. (may or may not be true)
To get ready for baby #1 I had employed a Bradley Method coach who came to the house for many weeks to teach us about natural childbirth. When the 40 week mark came and went, I began drinking raspberry tea by the gallon, walking non-stop, eating “THE Salad,” doing all the sexy-stuff you’re supposed to do, sweeping the membranes, and going in for daily acupuncture. This is what I can recall mind you. My husband remembers something about a monkey, a carton of eggs, and a midnight hike up Santa Monica canyon with our midwife.
When baby #2 popped onto the horizon, my midwife assured me that the chances of me being induced again were slim to none. In fact, everyone told me that this little bundle of joy was going to slip right out like a Jamaican bobsledder. Hah! Here I am, rocking like a hurricane once again. My induction date has been scheduled and despite my hours of walking and yadda-yadda-yadda, there are no signs that baby is coming. I’ve searched the internet for hours (like 100 at least) going over all of my “alternative” options to be sure no stone is left unturned. Medical induction for the second time was really not in my playbook.
Meanwhile, I’m reading The Happiness Project by Gretchin Rubin. She says that happiness comes in 4 stages:
- savoring an experience
- expressing happiness (over said experience)
- and then recalling the happy memories about your experience
And so I tell myself to embrace the anticipation…embrace it, Sara. Embrace it. EMBRACE IT, DAMMIT!