Partly because I am done being pregnant and partly because my mother wants to make a contribution to Thor's educational fund in 2011 (which apparently requires both being born and obtaining a social security number by TOMORROW at noon if we are going to have a realistic chance getting anything set up before the New Year), I've attempted everything I can think of to induce labor.
Not only did I go to the gym this afternoon and walk for 60+ minutes on the treadmill, I also RAN for an additional 15. Well, it was more of a slow, waddling jog (a twelve minute mile to be exact), but I am going to call it "running" because it felt really good and made me realize how much I've missed it since my doctor ordered me to stop back in April or May. Not because of the baby, mind you. But because of my stupid vein problems. I listened at the time because I was worried about being in support hose by August, but - at this point in my pregnancy - I figured I have very little to lose. And, well, hey - it might just send me into labor. It worked for that crazy woman back in October who ran a marathon and gave birth seven hours later. Not that I ran a marathon by any means. In fact, I made it just over a mile before my heart rate started to creep up to a place where I could imagine Trevor's best "disapproving face", and then I returned to walking.
See? Good girl.
Then, I got home and my neighbor brought me half of a lemon pie. She says her doctor told her to eat lemon pie to induce labor, and swears it worked for her when she had her son 28 years ago. And, well, I'm not above anything at this point.
(And, no. I didn't eat the whole thing. Just a slice. And it was fabulous.)
Especially since my sister has become increasingly bitter since the weekend. Something about her not getting her nephew for Christmas like she wanted. Anyway, over the last several days, Amy has said the following to me:
- While looking at photos of our honeymoon on Christmas Eve: "Wow. You've really aged a lot since your wedding. I wonder if it is because of the pregnancy or if it is just the sign of a really difficult marriage."
- While helping her register at Neiman's yesterday: "All the veins under your eyes are really swollen and dark. It looks really bad - almost like you were attacked or beaten up."
- And most recently in a text this afternoon: "hows old bessie doin today? mooooo!"
So, obviously, nothing but a big, happy, confidence-boosting thank you goes out to my sister. And, yes, I am blogging about it now, so I can remember all these wonderfully unique warm fuzzies when she is knocked up in the future!
But, seriously, tax credits and educational funds aside, I am ready to have my body back now. And to see my baby boy and finally have irrefutable evidence that he really does look JUST LIKE TREVOR. Because you know he will. That cute, little neanderthal brow is just too strong with la familia de G-Wink. All that is really unclear (at least until Thor makes his debut) is whether or not any of my genes even had a chance. And, well, the curiosity is becoming just too much to bear!
Next appointment is in the morning. Last week I progressed backwards (which, by the way, isn't supposed to be possible), so keep your fingers crossed for SOMETHING (seriously: ANYTHING) tomorrow! Because this whole thing is starting to get super ridiculous.