Pregnant Forever

(Edited after the fact: I know this sounds really jaded and bitter. Please realize I'm not so negative in real life, I was just REALLY pregnant and REALLY hormonal. And REALLY close to labor, I just didn't know it yet...)

I won't be pregnant forever. December Baby has been served an eviction notice for Monday the 15th. I'll be induced.

Again.

For the third time.

Because my body fails me.

I don't know why I don't go into labor on my own. It's really frustrating. I tried so hard this time to be healthier - something I thought might make a difference and something I could control. But while I'm glad I'm, you know, healthier, it's still a bummer to have all the energy and effort end in the same result as when I DIDN'T take care of myself: watching a clock countdown.

I started out this pregnancy 40 lbs lighter than other ones. FORTY POUNDS. I ran a 5k at 20 weeks, in July, in Texas, because I'm insane. I ate as Paleo-ish as I could, once I could stomach anything that grew on a tree or plant again. I did a Whole30 at 8 months. I denied myself so many times of garbage food that popped up as sounding good occasionally, like donuts, ice cream, fries, cake, cereal and chocolate. You know...all that junk that pregnant women seem to get by with eating. It didn't mesh with my goal of HEALTHY BODY FOR BEST FUNCTION, so I skipped it. And it was pointless. The only thing I have to show for it is a 30 lb weight gain instead of my previous 40-45+ chub addition. I'm not swollen or puffy anywhere, and I think for 41w, I look ok for a third-time mid-thirties mommy past yet another due date. But I'd trade looking miserable for going into labor. (Edit: I'm so very glad now that I took care of myself. My recovery has been a breeze and I feel amazing and FUNCTIONAL. So take care of your body during pregnancy and beyond no matter what!)

I even made "progress" on my own, when in the past I seemed locked up tighter than a bank vault. It's encouraging that my body can at least do that...but it doesn't really matter in the end if the only way I'll end up with my baby on the outside is an IV of drugs. I feel like my cervix is just taunting me.

The first time was 40w5d. Then 41w. Now 41w2d. I get a little more breathing room each time, but I really should just give up at go in at 40w. Why prolong it? If my body would naturally labor at 43 weeks, I'll never know, because there are no care providers here or elsewhere who will tend to me to that point. But based on my babies' weights and appearances, they would not cook until 43. If 42 is the magic number, well, what's less than a week before that, at this point?

I just know so many people who have lifestyles and body shapes on the two extremes - marathon runners with pristine diet, and the more fluffy approach with bad junk food cravings. And lots of in-between. And the whole range has normal function...except me. Some people BEG their doctor to get the baby out already. I'm the patient asking for just a few more days. My doctor jokes with me that I'm her most boring patient. I'm happy to have uncomplicated pregnancies and (outside induction) deliveries. But I guess being induced in convenient daytime hours just seals the deal on low-maintenance...no 3 a.m. wake-up calls for my babies! (Edit: My choice of time to mention here amuses me greatly after the fact, as my doctor did indeed receive a call between 3 and 4 a.m.!! Oops! Sorry about that!)

Another point of frustration is that NO ONE UNDERSTANDS. I don't know anyone who has walked in these shoes. All of my friends either go into labor by 40-41 weeks, have c-sections, or happily sign up for inductions at the earliest point. Why me? Why does someone who actually cares about it and has a certain philosophy on pregnancy and birth have to endure this path?

Well, sorry for the downer of a post, but these are the ramblings of a past-due pregnant lady who wants to meet her baby soon, but not yet, but can do nothing about it. Obviously. It was a 9 month experiment in self-control and hope, and it was for naught. We've always said we wanted 4 kids so there would be no middle kid, but I don't know if my heart could take this kind of letdown again.

Fluffy Out.