Any day now…

That is what we are telling ourselves anyway. Today, October 26 is one whole day past the official due date, but apparently the baby didn’t get that memo. Or care. All I know is that we are all kinda pacing about and getting a kick out of all the things known to send labor along its merry way.

This is what 40 weeks pregnant looks like.

Among the “tried and true” items to spur labor on include:
Eating French Onion Soup from Outback.
Having sex.
Eating pizza.
Drinking half a glass of red wine.
Going for walks.
Going for a bumpy ride.
Primrose oil.
Castor oil.
Raspberry leaf tea.
Eating pineapple.
Taking a hot bath.
Getting a facial.

Honestly, I think it’s all very coincidental and random and varies so much that there isn’t ONE thing. Whatever it was that someone was doing, at the moment she realized she was in labor, is the thing that worked for HER. Therefore, there are hundreds of things that we hear and read. All of them worked for someone, but none have worked for the someone who is my daughter.

The clock is definitely ticking, especially since I arrived 5 days ago. On Tuesday, in a fit of excitement, I boarded a plane to come be with my girl. She had been having major contractions and we felt certain she was in labor.

Exactly Phoebe!

There’s been plenty to do since my arrival, like helping her with a mountain of laundry, food shopping and cooking, strolling around various stores, and watching Netflix.

It’s been great to enjoy some cooler fall weather, and I am NOT missing the 90 degrees that Florida was serving up. There are even some lovely colors to enjoy. And I typically enjoy a trip this way in October just for those very reasons.

But not this trip.

This trip, the baby is supposed to arrive, and I get to be here. Except baby is not cooperating. So we wait patiently. We shop. We see the sights. We rearrange the baby’s wardrobe. We reminisce. And we continue to wait.

What is it about a new baby that keeps us so riveted?

I think it’s hope. Hope for a new life, and a new generation. Kelsey was the first grandchild on both sides of our family, and her child is a first grandchild for her dad and I. He actually arrived the day after me. There’s something very cool about all of us being here in support of this new life we are patiently waiting for.

Not so patiently waiting, if you must know.

It’s like we all get a do-over. As a parent, I was stressed out and overwhelmed and feeling so much pressure to get it right. To raise them right and too avoid looking like an idiot in the process. And THAT was before social media.

But as a JoJo (my grandma name), one generation removed, it’s easier. I can simply love my adult children and the grandchild. Is it a special bonus if I do some laundry or maybe make some soup? Yes it is, and it’s my joy to do it. (Also I live 1000 miles away, so I don’t have to worry about creating some sort of laundry dependency!)

Okay, it wasn’t quite this much…

Any suggestions on how to pass the time? Or how to get labor going? Or how to politely answer all the calls asking if the baby is here yet?

Thanks for reading, until next time,

2 thoughts on “Any day now…

  1. Having been raised with nurse/midwives… sex, castor oil and walking combined are tried and true more than any of the other silly anecdotes. Labor patterns can be hereditary…


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