10 days overdue. (I'm going to admit right now, that scares the crap out of me to see written down)
The midwife did another much more successful 'stretch and sweep'. Boy-o-boy did that hurt! Mike held my hand and I had a chance to practice my breathing. She said while she did it, the baby descended some. He was following her fingers! What a strange little chap. Anyway, the result of this was apparently not labour, but spine crushing back pain that has been with me since this all occured. It's really really uncomfortable. I can't help but thinking that feeling this way is supposed to help me cope with the thought of induction. If my back hurts like this much longer, I feel like I'm going to go mad. I can't sleep, sit, lay down or do anything without moving every five minutes. Even the bathtub provides only momentary relief. To add to my pity party, the City of Toronto has decided to rip up my sidewalks. There is nothing more enraging to me than construction workers screaming outside my house at 6:30 in the morning. Why do they scream? I don't get it. The rest of us can talk in normal tones. Is it that much work to walk over to the guy you need to say 'more gravel' to? Apparently so.
As for the induction conversation. My 42 week deadline is the 5th of May. My midwife is willing to let me go past that, but only if I have a scary conversation with an OB about all the risks of it. I was planning on scheduling the induction for May 7th (the Friday, two days later) just in case he decides to come out on his own. The whole 42 week thing seems very arbitrary to me. Some babies just take longer, and it seems like ALL first time moms take longer. At the same time, I'm really torn. I don't want to risk anything with my baby. He's my world and if anything happened to him I would die. So I feel stuck between a rock and a hard place. Both induction and having a postdates baby have their risks. No matter what I choose I'm going to have the burden of choice and be up late at night worrying about him. Welcome to motherhood, right?
I am just so frustrated right now with my body. Everyone is calling all the time, Mike's on my case about when/how he should schedule work, my mom ditto, even my midwife joked that she is waking up every morning wondering why I haven't called her yet. While I'm sure women who are trying to concieve would call it a stretch, I suddenly have so much more understanding of what kind of frustration that would involve. It seems like such a simple thing that everyone can do. Then your body just decides not to do it. With labour it is decidedly public. I can't make it a quiet little secret that my uterus has decided not to rhythmically contract to the point of pushing this child out.
So here ends the pity party. Blame it on the back pain.