Pregnancy Hall of Fame

I imagine most people look forward to their induction into the Hall of Fame. Since my hubby is a hockey guy, I know about retired numbers, jerseys hung from the rafters of the home rink, and the privilege of joining the greats in the Hockey Hall of Fame. At the opposite end of the spectrum, take kids. As a little girl, my oldest often set out to make a world record and get into the Guinness Book. Let's see, she tried jump-roping, hula-hooping, and gum chewing. Never came close, since perseverance isn't really her strong suit.

I have no such ambitions toward either recognition or fame. See, according to the Guinness Book of World Records, the largest baby ever born weighed in just over 23 pounds. Depending on your source, the longest pregnancy ever was either 42 years http://www.scielo.br/scielo.php?pid=S1516-31802000000600008&script=sci_arttext, 17 months 11 days. http://www.bly.cc/roast/1999/sld031.htm, or 375 days http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,797153,00.html. Most people are inducted into the Hall of Fame. I am desperate to be induced out of the running!

During this pregnancy, I have already passed some personal milestones that I'm not thrilled about. First, this is the largest my girth has ever measured. Not a pleasant reality. Second, I have puked more during these past 10 months than ever before in my life. Yum. Third, going according to my dates (not the OB's), this is my longest pregnancy. Ugh. And last, but not least, I am the oldest, slowest, sorest, crabbiest, and ugliest I have ever felt. Not one gold medal has come my way. I retire my clothing because they no longer fit, not for any grander reason. And no one has offered to publish me in any book, let alone one of world records. Matter of fact, I don't even have a baby to show for it.

I see the doctor again tomorrow. I intend to lobby every argument that I have in my rather ample arsenal against her refusal to induce this baby. If that fails, plan B includes calling my husband and letting him tell her how miserable I am. Just in case she simply doesn't believe me. Plan C is crying. Puking didn't work last time, so this time I'm gonna lay on the tears. None of which will need to be faked, let me assure you. Plan D will probably get security called on me--not that I'd be much of a threat considering I can hardly walk let alone do anything more acrobatic. Plan E will likely consist of coming home and taking every herbal self-induction method I've ever heard mentioned. Maybe even the dreaded caster oil. Plan F (for Failure) is simply to keep waiting. This is an absolute last resort option to be used only in the event all other plans do not succeed.

I'm planning to emulate a proven method of success during this attack. It is based on a widow described in Luke 18:1-8. She wanted justice in her case, and kept on bugging the judge who could help her until he finally gave in just to get her off his back. I want this baby off my belly--and between God and the doctor, someone has got to help me out here, before I get inducted into the Persistent Pregnancy Predicament Hall of Fame.

"Then He spoke a parable to them, that men always ought to pray and not lose heart, Saying: 'There was in a certain city a judge who did not fear God nor regard man.

Now there was a widow in that city; and she came to him, saying,

'Get justice for me from my adversary' And he would not for a while;

but afterward he said within himself, 'Though I do not fear God nor regard man,

yet because this widow troubles me I will avenge her,

lest by her continual coming she weary me.'"

Luke 18:1-5