Roughly a month ago I was certain that by this point I would not be pregnant anymore. But, as many things in life tend to be, the final days of this pregnancy have been entirely unpredictable and I am now ten days overdue, with an induction date set for two days’ time. It will be almost five weeks since I last wrote anything and went on maternity leave, assuming that I’d have a nice chubby, pink baby by now.
I thought I had done everything right. I was sure I’d been clever enough in my actions and would smugly be able to avoid induction. I truly believed I could outsmart Nature; a laughable presumption I now know. I’ve drank raspberry leaf tea since 34 weeks, I’ve done tonnes of yoga, I’ve eaten (fairly) well, despite my insane love of pork pies and chocolate milk. I’ve swam, I’ve gone for epic walks, I’ve eaten spicy food, I’ve done acupuncture, I’ve had three rather invasive manipulation procedures (I’ll leave the details out. This is still technically a food blog after all…) and yet, this baby has it’s own agenda for it’s arrival. Up until yesterday, I have been frustrated with these final days; I felt like the prescience I had to prepare myself physically meant that I didn’t deserve to be this late. I’ve been genuinely irritated with this little person-to-be for their seeming lack of compliance. I’ve have resented it because I’m enormous and uncomfortable, and my body hurts; I can’t even see my ankle bones anymore due to the swelling of my feet. The subsequent guilt I then felt for unfairly blaming someone with no knowledge of their own existence for actions outside of their control is obvious. I cringe at my response. I miss my body and it being mine alone, but that isn’t this baby’s fault. After all, it didn’t ask to be born.
I almost wonder if because I’ve put pressure on myself to have this baby sooner, it is Nature’s rather backhanded way of reminding me that things like this cannot be rushed. These events have their own timescales which stay unknown. Hundreds of years of scientific advancement and knowledge of the human body, and they still cannot work out what causes a woman to go into labour. It is completely unpredictable. At first, this irked me, but now…
Unknowns, whilst scary, are also exciting.
I am hopeful and resigned.
And now we have an end date anyway: two days to go. Now we know, the pressure is off. Of course, I’m concerned that the birth will now be this long and drawn out process from which we’ll both end up traumatised, but in the end, all of it is a total unknown and it does nothing beneficial to worry. The next two days are an opportunity to get into the correct headspace for Wednesday. I’m going to visit the LS Lowry exhibition at Tate Britain. I’m going to make a huge batch of chocolate chip cookies. I’m going to meditate and do some yoga, and take advantage of the calm before this inevitable yet still unpredictable storm.