I’m 40 weeks, 5 hours, and 41 minutes pregnant. I’m really pissed off about those last 5 hours and 41 minutes. I needed this baby to arrive on time, if not early, because I’m losing my fucking mind here, people.
I’ve been on maternity leave for a week, thinking for sure this kid would at least have the courtesy to be prompt, plus I couldn’t freaking move anymore so my boss told me to stop faking like I was being productive when clearly the simple act of sitting at my desk was obviously causing me physical pain.
So I’ve spent the past week scouring the interwebs for statistics about first-time childbirth that tell me what I want to hear (specifically, that I’ll spontaneously go into labor at any second and it will be painless and beautiful with no need for drugs, knives, or stitches) while a human I haven’t met yet punches me in the vagina every five minutes, my body hurts in places I didn’t know existed, and I slowly become one with the only pair of maternity pajama pants I can still comfortably wear. If I have to endure this shit for much longer, I’m going to go all Chevy Chase National Lampoon up in here, and my poor husband is going to catch the brunt of it, since he’s stuck here with me. At least he gets to go to work tomorrow.
So here are 9 things I’m doing to pass the time: one for each month I’ve been pregnant. And you should too.
1. Eat Chocolate. I bought a box of Godiva chocolates — one of those gigantic gift boxes you’re supposed to buy for other people and that are supposed to last like a month — at Costco last weekend. It’s gone now. It was my present to myself for making it to my due date week, and dammit, I earned every last one of those muthafuckas.
2. Binge-Watch Netflix. I made it through a season of Friends in two days and have cleaned out a good chunk of the DVR holdings. I got all excited once when I woke up at 2:30 am, couldn’t sleep, and “The One with the Birth” was up next in the Netflix queue. IT WAS A SIGN. Except it wasn’t.
3. Drive My Partner Bonkers. He’s probably looking forward to spending one last relaxing weekend with you sans-offspring, but you’re going to talk to him about all the gross things your body is doing and how you’d really like to have this baby, like, yesterday, and how he can’t possibly know what it’s like to be pregnant and he can have an opinion again after he’s made a human for 9 months. Never mind that it’s totally unfair to hold him responsible for pain and discomfort that’s literally physically impossible for him to experience; it’s obviously your job to make sure his final days of pre-dadhood are as uncomfortable as possible because you are.
4. Don’t Exercise. I know all the articles on the interwebs tell you that you SHOULD exercise while you wait to give birth. Take a long walk — maybe it’ll induce labor! Well, I walked four miles yesterday, folks, and I’m here to tell ya, I’m still pregnant and that shit doesn’t work. I swam 18 laps the other day too. That didn’t work either. You’re way better off expending your energy doing Godiva curls on the couch while binge-watching Netflix (see #s 1 and 2).
5. Pack My Hospital Bag Five More Times. You know you didn’t pack that shit right the first time. You’re going to need a different pair of slippers, a new stick of deodorant, and that new shade of lipstick you saw when you were shopping online yesterday (see #7). The websites told you to pack that bag in week 34 “just in case,” so you diligently followed the directions, and now you’ve unpacked and repacked ten times and you’re still pretty sure you’re forgetting important things that no one will be able to provide in a fully-staffed downtown medical center.
6. Work Anyway. You’ll probably get better about the whole “taking time off to be with family” thing once said family actually vacates your uterus, but for now, you’re stuck at home while your partner goes to work all day, with no one to talk to except your fetus, your dog, yourself, and your email.
7. Shop on Amazon. Because you tried to go Christmas shopping last week since you were on leave, but all the people at the mall stared at you like they were afraid the baby might come screaming out of your belly all Alien-style at any moment. Plus it was hard to walk and took you thirty minutes to get from Macy’s to Hallmark even though they’re both in section K. Maybe that’s why people were staring at you.
8. Relocate Every 5 Minutes. There’s no way you’re going to be comfortable in your couch pillow fortress for longer than that. You have two pillows behind your back, one behind your head, one under the bump, one between your legs, another under your ass, and the backup pillow on the floor just in case another pressure point needs relief. The second you get situated and turn on Netflix, though, you’re going to need to pee, and you’ll never find that spot again, so give it up, girl. Who the fuck do you think you’re kidding?
9. Get a massage. For real. There are some luxuries that are not worth spending one’s hard-earned money on, but when you’re 40+ weeks in; 5 feet tall; and every ligament, muscle, bone, and bit of skin on your body has been stretched, pulled, bent, or otherwise distorted, it doesn’t matter if you have to sacrifice a finger for each hour-long rubdown. It’s fucking worth it.
Check back in a while and I’ll probably have added a 10th, 11th, and 12th item to the list because clearly this child is never going to be born and this is my new reality. I will be pregnant forever and ever, the end.