The minute Chris returned from his business trip to Canada we started a walking crusade to induce labor. No luck so far. We have taken to walking through the village, to the the library, along the beach, and have begun a nightly ritual of doing laps at the mall.
I almost laughed at my mom six months ago when she told me that walking would be plenty of exercise at nince months pregnant. Apparently I thought I was some sort of superwoman. But, it turns out that when you are suspending a massive amount of weight in front of you like a bowling ball, walking at a "brisk" pace (I use that term very loosely) does in fact have the power to entirely wind you. The fact that contractions show up while you are walking and force you to waddle is really just adding insult to injury at this point.
Most of all, I just want to be able to fit in to more than three outfits comfortably and be able to wear shoes again without Chris having to shove my entire swollen ankle into them. Everytime I look down at my feet, I think of Shrek. This must be what his feet look like...ogre-ish.
6 comments:
Hang in there! (For you... not the baby... I'm sending her "get out!" messages)
Come on baby Herman! It's time to make your debut. Other old wives' tales I hear work: eating parmesan cheese or garlic. There's probably no merit to that, but anything that helps, right?
let's see a pic of your current status, and the ankles.
ps - i best get status updates via text during this delivery.
I've heard the walking works, so keep it up:) I can't believe your 39 weeks already. Insane!! Soon you will be yourself again with no more Shrek stuff. I'm jealous. Just think, you'll be all normal and skinny and used to having a baby by the time I reach where you're at. And then, you can just laugh at me. It will be great:)
I know exactly how you feel! Let me know if you stumble across any labor inducing tricks :)
The best is when you are 5 minutes out on your walk and you realize if you don't go to the bathroom, you're going to explode. I seriously almost knocked on strangers' doors to see if I could use their privy. Then, you get to the bathroom and barely anything comes out, and you still feel like you have to go. Ah, 6 more days . . . 6 more days . . .
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