I finally have an answer to the question that seems to pop up a dozen times a day: “When are you having that baby?” The answer is, four days from now! It might even happen sooner, but for sure, it will be no later than four days from now. I know this because that’s the day my doctor is inducing me. It’s the only glimmer of hope that keeps me from retreating to a cave until my son decides to make his appearance.
This is my first—and likely my only—experience with pregnancy, and honestly, I’ve despised it. I’ve heard that some people revel in the experience; I’ve even met one woman who adored being pregnant. But I just don’t understand that sentiment. My intense dislike for being pregnant is baffling, especially when I try to explain it away.
No, I didn’t suffer from morning sickness or any other illness.
No, it hasn’t been an unusually hot summer.
No, I’m not alone in this; my husband, family, and friends have been incredibly supportive. My husband in particular has earned his saintly title. So, that’s not why I’m struggling with this either.
And yes, I will love my son when he arrives. That’s crucial to note. Do I enjoy being pregnant? Absolutely NOT. Do I love my son and will I continue to love him once he’s born? YES. It’s an essential distinction.
Since I started showing, the unsolicited questions, advice, and horror stories have driven me batty. Recently, they’ve begun to provoke an unsettling response that makes a simple grocery run feel perilous. Before I scheduled my induction, even the innocuous “When are you due?” made my head spin.
It felt so far away—like an eternity. Each day, I’d cling to the idea that today wouldn’t be the day, just to get out of bed. And then, here comes a stranger reminding me of how long I still have to go!
I’d instantly go on the defensive, making it impossible to muster a calm response like “August 4th.” Instead, I found myself blurting things like “Who the heck knows?” or “Not soon enough,” or once, I just froze in the cereal aisle, saying nothing at all. The poor person asking the question was left awkwardly wondering if I was in my ninth month or if I was just completely out of it.
But now, in this new world where I have an induction date, I can say, “On or before July 28th!” and do it with a genuine smile! Yay!! I’m smiling, people!! But surprisingly, this good news is often met with unexpected judgment. “Oh, you’re inducing? You don’t really want to do that.” Yes, I absolutely do!
It seems there’s a stigma surrounding induction that I was previously unaware of. Some people view it as selfish or assume I don’t care about my child’s well-being. Did I mention that I decided this with my doctor, who specializes in these matters? I wasn’t shocked to encounter some disapproval; after all, I’ve learned a lot about how people have endless opinions on pregnancy and childbirth. But I didn’t realize it would be the majority of them. Seriously, folks, do you see the smile on my face? I’m happy about this—why rain on my parade?
So here I am, just four days away from meeting my son, the day I’ll finally stop being pregnant, and yes, the day I’m inducing. I’ve opted to stay home, avoiding the public and holding onto the calendar. Because by the 28th, this will all be over, and you bet I’m inducing.
If you’re looking for more information on home insemination, check out this article about grilled honey Vidalia onions, which is one of our other blogs. And if you’re considering at-home insemination, you can find a comprehensive guide at Make a Mom, which is an authority on this topic. Additionally, for further insights on intrauterine insemination, the Cleveland Clinic offers an excellent resource.
In summary, my journey through pregnancy has been challenging, and I’m counting down the days until I can welcome my son into the world. I’m embracing the induction process and ready to meet my little one.