Waiting for the Kid to Come Out

"Waiting for the Kid to Come Out" is a song by my favorite band (Spoon, of course) and I thoroughly enjoyed listening to it these last nine months. Now, the irony is less amusing. Because we're now four days past our due date, and still, no kid.

I've gotten a pedicure with a massaging foot rub. A body massage with focused effort on all the pressure points known to induce labor. I've added sriracha to just about everything. Eaten spicy Mexican. And very spicy Indian. It's done a number on Jeremy's stomach, but not mine. I've snacked on fresh pineapple, and I've sipped raspberry leaf tea. I've been walking about five miles a day for the past few weeks, and I've even tried jumping jacks and galloping  I've been taking evening primrose oil and yes, we've even had sexytime. Quite a few times, in fact.

But we're still waiting for the kid to come out.

I'm feeling OK today. I've made it through a couple of meltdowns. Make that, we've made it through said meltdowns. Jeremy really is the most understanding, compassionate, supportive person I have ever known. I'm anxious. And scared, and frustrated. But also excited and grateful to be going through it with Jeremy holding my hand. (And rubbing my back and talking to my belly.)

So we'll just keep on waiting -- as patiently as possible -- for this kid to come out.