Back when I used to be cool and I lived in Central America, I was sitting underneath my mango tree one day in a hammock chair, sunglasses on, gently nursing a hangover... my friend Roberto came by with some soup or beverage, something to help with my hangover. He looked at me and recommended a drink. I looked at him and groaned, "Ugh, I'm never drinking again!" And he told me:
The Three Greatest Lies in the World
1. I'll never drink again
2. I'll pay you tomorrow
3. Just the tip
It's even funnier in Spanish, I swear.
But there is a new lie I have learned about. And it's being espoused by nearly everybody. And I would like to let you all know, right now, that second babies do not come early.
Google "Second babies" and you'll get all sorts of hits letting you know to expect your second earlier than your first. Unless this baby comes today or tomorrow, that's a mother fucking lie.
I did, however, receive the only appropriate response to a woman telling you she is past her due date over the weekend.
I was at Dog Park Baby's second birthday party on Saturday. Dog Park Grandma was there (my friend's MIL) and we were chatting and she asked me when I was due. I told her, "Last Thursday." and I probably looked super sad when I said it, because she just said, "Oh honey!" and gave me a hug. I don't normally like to be hugged by people I don't know, but, somehow, it was the only appropriate response. Anything else would have been stupid.
Like the chick there that told me to shove my hand in my vagina and sweep my own membranes. Stupid. Or my friend's sister's girlfriend who told me to smoke pot. Okay, crazy lady. No wonder your kids were taken by the state of California.
I have tried just about everything else in the world, though. I've been walking a million miles a day. I tried "nipple stimulation" (I feel like that needs quotes for some reason); once with my breast pump for about 45 minutes, and the other time I did it manually. I read that the best way is to alternate sides every fifteen minutes. So I did. For an hour and a half. I've been sitting on my exercise ball. I have purchased all of the loose red raspberry leaf from the bulk section at my local Fred Meyer (red raspberry leaf is more for toning your uterus than inducing labor, for the curious) and I drove up the bumpiest mountain road near town. Twice.
So, now I have resigned myself to the fact that I will be pregnant forever. And I have come back to work. I took Thursday and Friday off, thinking maybe I needed to relax a bit to get myself in a birth-y state of mind.
I also tried self-talk and scrubbing the kitchen floor.
Hamburglar's birthday is in nine days. I would really like a few days, at least, to recover so he and I can have some good birthday fun. But I don't know if that's going to happen. If Brown Sugar doesn't come by next week, I'm assuming I will be induced. I see the doctor today. I'm assuming I will receive some comment like, "I wasn't expecting to see you blah blah blah!" And then I will stab her with my dagger eyes.
Mr. Adventure has been telling the baby to get out, too. And we have Chumby saying to my belly, "Come out, brother!"
But nothing. So, I'm going to be pregnant forever. And, I guess, if this guy comes today or tomorrow, people aren't total liars when they say second babies come earlier, but they are liars when they say second babies come early.
And all those assholes that say, "There is no early or on time. Babies come when they are ready," are totally right. Obviously. Otherwise something I did over the weekend would have shaken this bastard loose. Oh well. I wonder what the Guinness Record is for being pregnant. Maybe I can win that?