Cod Liver Coward

It's official. 2009. And no baby. My husband didn't get his tax deduction or a write-up in the newspaper for first baby of the year. And me? With the dawning of the New Year, I have been pregnant for at least part of almost every one of the past 5 years--FIVE years!

Lately, whenever I pick up the phone, I identify myself and answer the "How are you" question with "Still pregnant." A friend of mine laughed at this last night, and said to me "I was asking about other stuff, too, y'know." Bless her. I'm just getting so sick of people wondering if I've had this baby yet.

My mom is still rooting for him to make his appearance on her birthday. That would be better than any day after that, of course, but I truly don't want to be pregnant for even those next few days. I see my doctor on Monday, but I'm not holding my breath for her to say anything useful or encouraging after how the last visit went.

I've been exploring the homeopathic ways to induce labor. Cod liver oil is out. I guess as sick as I am of being pregnant, I'm not that desperate. Last pregnancy I tried pineapple. That didn't work--just gave me sores on my tongue--so I'm avoiding that one too. My friend brought her "magic mostaccioli" for dinner on our New Year's Eve get-together, but I saw no results from that, either. (Except a full tummy and a need for Zantac.) I have so many plant allergies that I'm afraid to mix it up with the herbal remedies such as cohash, although raspberry tea is an option, I suppose. The truth is, I don't hold out much hope for any of them, and there is the very tiny, traitorous thought in the back of my brain that whispers "What if the doc is right and its too soon???"

Let me just tell you, it doesn't feel too soon. I'm the size of a jumbo blimp--even the maternity clothes are tight. Just the other day at work someone commented that I looked like a missile silo. Brilliant--that's what every girl wants to hear! Between my grapefruit feet, the numbness in my hands which has become pretty permanent, the delightful night wakings to leg cramps, and the fact that I can hardly move my own body--I simply want to be DONE. The bun in this oven is baked. My goose is cooked. I'm ready to hop out of the frying pan into the labor fire. All I need to know is: how many more clever phrases will I have to come up with until it actually happens?

"...And in Your book they were all written,

the days fashioned for me,

when as yet there were none of them."

--Psalm 139:16