My doctor is probably not going to be around for the birth of our daughter.
The practice I go to has four doctors, and while I’ve seen just Dr. M for the majority of my pregnancy, in this practice it’s not a guarantee that your own doctor will deliver your baby. In my case, Dr. M is going to be on vacation next week (Due Week), so unless Baby Dub decides to be several miserable days late, it’s looking like I’m going to have to see one of the other Docs for Baby Dub’s delivery.
No big whoop.
Saw the 4th of 4 today. He was nice, informative, made a lot of jokes and small talk, commented on how cool of a name the Hubs has. I’m cool with him maybe being DownWind come Delivery Day.
Of course, with just 5 days to go, I’m looking for any tips for speeding up this baby’s arrival. Doctor 4 kindly informed me that we’ll most likely come within a few days of the due date, and that I should mentally prepare myself for a late arrival.
Boo. Not what I want to hear, Doctor #4.
As if he sensed my displeasure, he starts throwing out some options.
“Well, if you aren’t uncomfortable, intercourse is a great way to help move things along.”
As Doctor #4 describes the labor-inducing powers of semen, I attempt with some effort to stifle a case of the giggles. Eventually I can’t help myself, so I turn to the Hubs, fist outstretched for a fist-pound, and say “Awww yea!”
The Hubs looks totally mortified. Not only do I not get a reciprocal pound of the fist, I don’t even get a cracked smile. Doctor #4 doesn’t appear to know what to do either. Sensing my discomfort, the Hubs finally chimes in with this gem:
“Well I was looking on the web at natural ways to induce labor, and it basically said that if your body isn’t ready, none of that stuff is really going to speed things up.”
Doctor #4: “What kinds of labor inducing techniques were they suggesting?”
The Hubs blurts out “Oh you know, herbs, spicy food, going for a walk, nipple stimulation…”
Thank you for leveling the awkward playing field, Mr. Dub.
To be fair, I am sitting on a bouncy medicine ball as I write this, trying to coax Baby Dub to “drop.” I’ve been going for a late night walk with the Hubs. I’ve been vigorously massaging pressure points. I’ve even considered the spicy food, although that brings with it a risk-reward scenario – I could go into labor, or I could get wicked heartburn.
My desperation grows with each day. It’s less about being uncomfortable and more about dying from the anticipation! Every day I wake up could be the day we meet our daughter, and the suspense is killing me!
I’m even considering some soft music, candlelight and a Yankee Pot Roast.