41 Week Bumpdate: Angry Edition

Um, yeah. I warned you guys about the self-tanning meltdown…

Well, the Trifecta of Success ended up being ultimately unsuccessful in producing an end product. And actually unsuccessful in producing so much as a single labor contraction.

I ate two entire pineapples in two days.
I made like the pioneer children and walked and walked and walked and walked… and walked. And then I jogged.
I used evening primrose oil like a boss.
I even ate spicy food and tried some other tricks that are rumored to be successful in coercing babies out of their warm little aquarium homes.

But guess what. He stayed put. And I no longer have any faith in the old wives because their tales just don’t work.

This whole waiting to go into labor thing reminds me of two situations in my life:

1. 2nd grade. When my classmates lost a baby tooth, they got to stand in front of the class and tell about how it happened. With every day that passed and every child that came in with a new lost tooth, I became more and more horrified that my teeth all remained intact. I had a few wigglers, but none had taken the great plunge from their gummy home. All I wanted was to experience the magic of the tooth fairy, but my body was determined to make me the last miserable girl in the world to lose a single baby tooth. Eventually they disappeared, never to be seen again (well, not never to be seen again, because me and Jill found them all hidden in a box in my parents’ room circa 1998. Ew. I gag. But that’s a post for a different day…), but it took a lot of waiting before I was an all-permanent kinda girl.

2. Sex education, 6th grade. Having been previously warned by my mother, I knew the horrors that would begin to descend upon my body. Breasts. Hair. And the worst… menstruation (though that word wouldn’t enter my vocabulary for many more years). During sex education, one of the teachers asked my class of all girls who had started their period (I imagine this was an exercise to help these girls understand that they weren’t alone… but it had the exact opposite effect on the rest of us losers who hadn’t). The horror. I felt like the only girl without her hand in the air. And I had never been more embarrassed in my entire life (I would, however, be much more embarrassed in the future, when said period descended on a day when I was wearing khaki pants). Just like I had to wait for my permanent teeth (which were at this point covered in metal) to make their move, there was nothing I could do but wait to become a Woman.

Well.

Here I am, a little bit older and a tad bit wiser and still waiting for my body to get in sync (*nsyc. Love them.) with my mind. I know it will eventually happen, but in the meantime I feel like the elephant in the room all over again… (more literally this time around though). I guess I just didn’t learn my lesson the first time. Or the second… But one thing is for certain: this is definitely my very last bumpdate for a very long time!

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