Today is my 39-and-a-half-week appointment, and I know they will ask (Dad: close your ears) “Would you like me to strip your membranes to see if we can get labor started?”
And I will reply, sweetly, “Strip? No. I would like you to BLOW TORCH my membranes. With a blow torch. Thank you."
But this won’t work either. I have had several friends, including men, tell me how to get labor started.
"Spicy foods! Works every time.”
Not every time!
"Eggplant Parmesan! Worked for me twice!”
Not for me! Twice!
I’ve logged fifty miles this week. Up hill. Both ways. In the snow and heat.
So, here’s what I propose. I propose that the only due date doctors be allowed to give is the date of the last possible day they will allow you to stay pregnant. If, doctors, your policy is to induce at 42 weeks plus one day, then that shall be the due date you declare. This way all women who give birth before this day are happy (or happier) because, heck, the baby came earlier than expected! A+! We are all good students! And for those who don’t—well, at least there’s a line in the sand.
And a line on the scale.
And a house full of shiny white baseboards to welcome baby home.