As predicted, my cervix is still as tight as an asshole. So, here's the plan: I have a non-stress test on Wednesday to make sure baby is ok, then Monday I'll have a biophysical profile, which is a sonogram, to see if baby is happy, then next Wednesday or Thursday, I'll be induced, all contingent, of course, on baby not appearing on her own. The doctor said there is no rush to induce me, since baby seems fine, and because my cervix is "unfavorable" it is unlikely that an induction would work. I'm not happy about these things. I mean, I'm glad that modern medicine is able to monitor the health and safety of my baby, but my imagination is taking me to bad places. Let me explain.
I used to think that a "non-stress test" was called that for euphemistic reasons, that is, the medical community didn't want to stress moms out by calling the test a stress test so they call it a non-stress test. Not so. A stress test is one where they would hook you up to electrodes and make you run on a treadmill or have Thanksgiving dinner with your alcoholic father. A non-stress test monitors your baby at rest. So, on Wednesday, if baby is not stressed, then we will continue to wait. However, if baby is stressed, doctor might see a reason to induce.
An induction means I get hooked up to a Pitocin drip. Pitocin is the synthetic form of Oxytocin, which is a hormone my body is supposed to secret to start labor. Oxytocin can also be secreted during good sex and nipple stimulation, which is why both these activities are recommended to naturally induce labor. Pitocin is a hell of a drug; it causes strong contractions, stronger than during a normally started labor. Women who attempt a vaginal birth after a c-section are not allowed to have Pitocin because the strength of the contractions can tear the c-section scar. Pitocin is terribly effective. Anecdotal evidence: at the end of her pregnancies with both my sister and me, my mom's water broke before any contractions started. When water breaks, the docs will induce to prevent infection. She got her Pitocin, and 5 hours later, babies.
As effective as Pitocin can be, it does not always work. Sure, it will make a girl contract strongly, but that does not always translate to dilation and progress toward birth. More anecdotal evidence: the wife of Husband's coworker started on a Pitocin drip sometime after her due date. After twelve hours of painful labor, her cervix was no more dilated than when they started. The doctor gave her the option of going home and trying again in the morning, or having a c-section. Rather than subject the old fetus to further stress, she opted for the section. If baby isn't ready to come out, baby isn't ready to come out. When Pitocin doesn't work, it is c-section city.
C-sections were named after Julius Caesar, who was allegedly the first to be born that way. I don't know if that is true, I wasn’t there. People think the Caesar Salad was named after the same guy, but it turns out the salad was named after a Mexican bar owner who had a handlebar mustachio.
I want to avoid a c-section if at all possible. For one thing, the recovery period is about six weeks, which means I won't be able to exercise, and I will be an elephant for the rest of my life, one of those women who had kids and just let herself go and wears huge pants with elastic waist bands and tye-dye shirts and orthopedic shoes because her circulation is shot from inactivity. You see her in the grocery store buying twenty-five Lean Cuisine pizzas, and you think, “shame.” We would only have one child, because Husband would not want to fuck me anymore, unless he was drinking, and now we have a fat wife and and a drunk husband. Add this to the chickens we are planning on raising in our yard, and we may as well move back to Arkansas. More importantly, while I would get to see the baby right away, it takes 45 minutes to stitch a bitch up after a c-section, so I wouldn't get to hold her or talk to her or introduce myself. Through my research and preparation for this birth, I've also come to believe that if I'm not able to give birth drug free and hold the baby and breast feed right away, she will inevitably grow up to be a sociopath who is unable to bond with other human beings and never learns to talk, like those Romanian orphans from the cold war. We’ll call her Nell, and I will have failed in my duty as a woman.
My other thing is that I’m not sure that this baby is going to be born at all. I think we missed it. Everyone else has had her baby, but we aren’t going to have one. We tried, but it didn’t work. At forty-two weeks, the pendulum will begin its swing in the other direction. She will shrink, and in nine months we’ll have sex, and the sperms will return to Husband’s body.
Husband tells me that these fears are perhaps a smidge irrational, and that there is no evidence to support them, and there is, in fact, anecdotal evidence to the contrary. Anecdotal evidence: Husband was born via c-section. As to my concern that no baby will appear at all, Husband is choosing not to dignify this with the comfort of reason. But this is where I am. The parade of horribles Dixieland band is a-playin’ on my street, and I have joined the second line.
Also, when I tell people that I'm forty weeks pregnant (strangers ask when you look like I do right now), they look at me like I'm a suicide bomber, which is appropriate, because I'm shaped like a cartoon bomb. I'm going to start saying that I'm only five months, but there are a dozen babies in there.a
In summary: blerg.
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