Back Home Again in Indiana
39 weeks in and the denial is real. I didn’t realize I was still in denial until the doctor started talking about the possibility of an induction. I couldn’t really figure out why I was so hesitant to do it (this kid’s consistently measuring a week ahead and not getting any smaller so you would think I’d be all for it) until someone said I was in denial about the whole thing. And they were right.
The nursery’s ready to go, the car seat’s properly installed, the tiny little baby clothes are washed and folded, but it’s still not real. I’m not in denial about having a tiny human so much as the process of getting said tiny human out into the world. In baby class, she showed us what 10 centimeters looks like, and there’s no way anything’s fitting through that. Half a leg maybe, but not a head. . .and definitely not this kid’s giant head. I realize my solid birth plan of an epidural is going to help immensely on this front, but not as much as time traveling back to the 50s when they knocked you out for this sort of thing.
And that’s where the denial comes in. I realize there are only two ways this kid can make his exit, and since our doctor group prides itself on its lack of c sections, there’s really only one way this kid’s making his exit. After watching a couple videos, it’s a hard pass on my end so in my mind, it’s one of those things that’s going to happen “later”. And by setting an induction date, “later” becomes a real time which becomes a real problem.
The best way I can explain it is to compare it to getting my wisdom teeth pulled: I didn’t really want to do it, but one was angled into my cheek so I knew it would be worth it. When I made the appointment, it was so far away it was like it didn’t really exist. Then suddenly it was appointment day and there I was at the oral surgeon having conversations I have zero recollection of (I’m a good time under anesthesia). What I do have recollection of is thinking maybe he’ll be sick and cancel the appointment, maybe I’ll be sick and have to cancel the appointment, maybe the building will disappear and there won’t be an appointment, etc. Basically I’ve always lived a life of denial when it comes to unpleasant experiences.
So here we are, 6 days away from my due date, and I continue to pretend the end is eons away as I yell at him to quit squatting. Because if there’s one thing I’m super good at other than denial, it’s not contradicting myself.