Old Wives and the Stupid, Stupid Tales They Tell

October 5, 2009

By this point, you've probably realized that I'm due to have a baby this Thursday, October 8th. But we all know, that in reality, due dates are nothing but a giant pot of poo and lies. What October 8th really means is this: I could have had my baby six weeks ago, or she might come just in time to enjoy the festivities of Hanukkah--it's really hard to tell.

Anyway you slice it, I'm close enough to ready that every person who's lucky enough to lay their eyes upon me does a double take and says something extraordinarily witty like, "SOMEONE GRAB A CATCHER'S MITT!" And I'm all, "Trust me sir, you're not nearly handsome enough to see my vajango." And then I shrug and walk away. In the middle of the Olive Garden.

I guess this is the fun part.

On Friday morning, as I was getting ready for work, I had one of those really odd moments where I was feeling completely happy with the way I look. Christina Aguilera's "I Am Beautiful" was playing on the radio, and I just just couldn't help but agree with that dirty girl. I was like, "You're right, Christina! These stretch marks, this cellulite, these extra forty pounds are FRICKIN' BEAUTIFUL!" So I decided to forgo my normal makeup regimen and wear nothing but my pregnancy glow (and some really gigantic clothes) into the office.

I was sitting at my desk, busily playing some online Scrabble, when my office neighbor Karen walked in. She took one look at me and said, "Wow. You look like sh*t today, you should go home and have this baby." And then she proceeded to tell me one-zillion old wive's tales about how to go into labor and why it would most definitely happen sometime during the next two days.

She's a former midwife, so I bought it hook, line, and sinker.

She was like, "First, you've dropped like crazy. Second, you're already dilating and effacing. Third, we're supposed to have thunder and lightning tomorrow night. Fourth, there's gonna be a full moon on Sunday night. And fifth, you look like sh*t. There's no reason you're not having this baby this weekend."

"Furthermore," she continued, "if you keep drinking your pregnancy tea, eat some super spicy Indian food tonight, and can convince your husband to have sex with you, you'll definitely have your baby this weekend."

I nodded.

"But it might be hard to talk Jared into it. You seriously look like sh*t."

And I was all, "So Karen, do you think I look like sh*t today? Cause I'm confused."

She nodded, handed me my purse, and said, "Oh yeah, total sh*t. Good luck with the sex thing."

So off I went--to have a baby, dang it!

After much pondering and Googling, I was convinced that Karen was right--between the pressure change of the storm, the tidal pull of the full moon, the fact that Mercury has exited retrograde, my unexplained need to buy Cocoa Dino-Bites at the grocery store, a short bout with diarrhea, and four thousand irregular contractions, there was no way I wasn't having this baby.

I even--and I kid you not--hopped up and down my street like a bunny rabbit, four times, in the rain, under the full-moon just to seal the deal.

Every time I hippity-hopped by the driveway, Jared was all, "I don't know why you want this to happen so badly! You know it's gonna feel like you're going through a wood chipper, Amy! Don't rush this thing!"

And I was like, "Yeah, but an empowering wood chipper of womanhood, ya a-hole!"

And he was all, "Or a double decker bus filled with fat people."

That's my Jared. What a man, what a man, what a man, what a mighty, mighty good man.

Jared even drove me a couple hours from home, to a ski resort in the middle of nowhere, to ride up the ski lift and enjoy the foliage. Honestly, I couldn't have cared less about some red and yellow leaves--I just thought, "Ya know...If anyone in this world would deliver a baby on a dinky, little ski lift it'd definitely be me. Let's do this thing."

Well guess what?

That's right. I'm still pregnant.

So today I'd like to send a message out to Mother Nature, the old wives who tell these tales, and Karen:

You're nothing but a bunch of super-skanks. You suck. All of you.

But for some strange reason, I still love Jared.

The end.


Anonymous said...

Oh Amy, too funny and I remember those days. I'm not averse to induction (as you know) so I practically forced my doctor to think of a reason why I needed to be induced two days after my due dates. I had the history of humongo babies on my side, though...

Hang in there.

But come on Baby Lawson! It's time to come out!!! :)

jed-laura said...

this post reminded me of when Laura was overdue with Allison, and we were at the park, doing jumping jacks, walking to the grocery store (5 miles away) and doing so with one foot on the curb, and the other in the gutter (we heard that this type of walking may help the baby come out). We tried all sorts of spicy indian foods... etc. etc.

Something that worked for Laura though with Lucy was that she actually jumped into a dumpster to save a friend's cell phone the day she went into labor. The contractions really got going from the dumpster dive. Try that one out :)
(I agree, old wives tell stupid tales...)

kristen said...

Good luck Amy! Maybe you should avoid the chair lift the rest of the week?

Christina McKinney said...

Yeah, I wish I knew a trick to help you go into labor...but I agree, it's a buncha hose poo. I tried it all and I still had to be induced to have my daughter. Short of smokin' her out of there, she wasn't gonna budge. Hopefully you don't have to go that route. Forced labor=no fun for anyone. (36 hours anyone?!?!)

Good luck!!

Try jumping jacks.... lol.

The Grounded Drink Lady said...

When I was preggo with #1, some random woman told me to drink pineapple juice. Yeah sure. Of course...I drank it. Worked like a charm. The kid was 12 days early. It was either the pineapple juice or the pressure of trying to get the freaking self checker at the store to work. Good luck! Pineapple juice!

Lindsay said...

Oh no - I was SO hoping this past weekend would be it for you! Hang in there, and keep us posted...

JAMIE said...

Life sucks starting from about 37 weeks and on, and wives tales, they suck even more! Sex at that point is what we consider a comedy of errors at our house. torture. ;)

I think you'll have the baby by Hanukkah. :)

Charlotte said...

With #1, I finally gave up on the baby, crossed the state line for my parents Christmas party... and my water broke in their driveway.

With #2, I made sure I looked like sh*t when I went to my last Dr. appointment and cried until he agreed to induce me.

Good luck to you!

Marc and Megan said...

Well no wonder it didn't work... she didn't fill you in on the swedish massage trick that *always* works. You just have someone massage your achilles tendon gently, but vigorously. I totally did it for my sister and she had the baby like two weeks later. ;)

But, seriously, the way I see it... as long as you're trying crazy things, this option might actually get you a good foot massage. You know, one thing that did work for my sister was mopping her kitchen on her hands and knees. lol.

I'll be praying that all goes well in the next few days (or weeks!).

Diana from Dallas said...

One of my daughters arrived one week after her due date and the other daughter arrived 5 days early and all that taught me is the baby will come when she is ready.
Oh, I also learned that raspberry leaf tea does NOT taste good. though, I drank it by the gallons at the end of both pregnancies.

hope your little one gets the eviction notice soon

Emily said...

I am sorry you are still pregnant. At least you have a really good outlook. You look great and I keep checking your blog daily to see an "I had the baby" blog. Good luck when you do!

Morgan Hagey said...

Maybe today? Or tomorrow? Or... next week? I promise you will NOT be pregnant at Hannakauh. PROMISE!

TheBakerHalfDozen said...

Ugh, I feel your pain!! And there isn't a wives tale out there that works... I tried them all, with the exception of the castor oil. Didn't sound worth it. Let's hope she decides to come SOON.

X-Country2 said...

The street hopping makes me laugh. Hopefully you penciled in some sex among all your outdoor adventures. :o)

Kelly said...

I am due October 7th. Your story is basically my story, minus the Karen, but plus every well-intentioned person I see who says, "You're still here?!" Dude, I haven't even HIT my DUE date yet-cut me some slack.

But every time I call someone the first thing I have to say is, "I'm not in labor, but I called because..."

It's getting old. So are the spicy cookies. Even the sex. Why won't this baby come?!

chattypatra said...

Unfortunately, I can't offer any useful advice on this matter. But, hey, I'm praying for you! Love you tons.

P.S: Your co-worker's comments make me think of last week's episode of NCIS, where Tony told Ziva (after she made a rude comment to him), "It's o.k., you're not exactly known for your tact." Then he said, 'sorry'. Heh.

Amy said...

Karen--If you're reading this, I LOVE YOU!!!! You're the only person who can tell those things and get away with it. You're the best neighbor ever :o)

Unknown said...

You poor thing! I tried it all too. .. short of castor oil, since I hate diarrhea. And the sex thing is almost cruel at nine months. Seriously too much work for a super-prego. . .
It's almost over!!

RunnerGirl said...

I've got a week to go until my due date and I'm feeling the same way . . . I just read an article about an Italian restaurant in town that has had NINE women go into labor after eating the eggplant parm. Needless to say, we're heading there this weekend for sure.

Best of luck to you :)

Kitty said...

I so feel for you. My first was a few days early, so for the second I started Labor Watch 2006 at week 38. 39...40...41 weeks... each and every day I had the same lame conversation with everyone who looked at me. "Why yes, as a matter of fact, I am uncomfortable!" I was 4 cm dilated for weeks and 100% effaced for days, but nothing was happening. We tried everything. She finally came 10 days after her due date. Fortunately, my perfect baby girl has never given me an ounce of trouble since. [cackle]