Monday, February 22, 2010

February 22, 1988

This is such a big date in my life.  It was my focus for nine long months, my due date. 

I enjoyed being pregnant.  It was amazing that a person was growing inside me.  Unlike my later pregnancies I had no distractions and could spend a lot of time bonding with my growing belly and the alien rolling around inside.  But that last month was pure torture.  I was impatient to finally meet this person who was no longer a stranger to me.

Very impatient.

Her father was impatient too.  We jokingly contrived ways to speed up her arrival, but true to her current personality, Miss Amanda does shit according to her own schedule (file that one under things we learn from our fetuses).

I knew better that babies rarely arrive ON their due dates.  In fact, most babies arrive BEFORE their due date.  By February 1st my bag was packed, the plan mapped out, phone numbers to grandparents written down, I was ready.  And waited.  And waited. And waited.


By February 20th, anxiety, anxiousness, anticipation, and impatience were starting to take their toll.  Add to that my physical discomfort?  Let's just say there's wisdom in the old traditions of "confinement," the hiding of women during their final stages of pregnancy behind closed doors away from the general public.  I was not fit for human consumption.

The night of my due date it was clear I was nowhere near going into labor so my mom took us out to eat.  As we stood in line waiting for a table, two elderly ladies were behind us.  Two things bring out uninvited conversation from old women - babies and pregnant bellies.  So I immediately became their opening line and my mother, the non-stop talker, quickly joined in.

"Oh honey," one chimed, "you've DROPPED!"

To this day, twenty-two years later, I'm still royally pissed about this statement.  How in the FUCK would she know if I dropped or if I was carrying low?  Seriously? 

"When are you due?" she asked like every other stranger on the street has asked for the past forty weeks.

With a glint of evil joy in my eye I said, "today."

I swear both women shit themselves right there.  Their eyes bugged out and then fell to my "dropped" belly.  It was obvious they were taking quick inventory about gathering towels, sheets and boiling water in case their midwifery skills were going to be needed in the next five seconds.

And then my table was ready.  Damn.  No more torturing little old ladies!

I was then confined for the remainder of my days.  That would be another NINE DAYS.  nine.  I was contemplating a do-it-yourself caesarean.


  1. Yeah, pregnant women become public property. I never understood that.

  2. I always hated those dropped/carring high/low comments. 9 days past your due date? OMG. You poor thing!

  3. I have never been in that position because I have not been pregnant, but that really must have sucked. I am an impatient person and waiting even 9 months will probably feel like forever. Those 9 extra days must not have been awesome.

  4. i've also never been pregnant but can only imagine how anxious you must have been at that point to meet the little one! i can't believe they said that, then again, i haven't met many older women with a filter :)