Five days overdue. Then Seven.
My midwives suggest I stick primrose oil up my vagina. On different occasions, they and my partner rub essential oils into my belly hoping to inspire some movement. They bid me to relax. They say to try inviting the baby out, tell him we’re ready to receive him. Come join us! It’s great out here! Flo and I say.
But nothing happens.
Over a week after my due date, I have to get a CTG every other day, which requires going to the doctor or midwife and sitting for 30 minutes with cables attached to my belly, as the machine monitors the baby’s heart rate, watching out for any irregularities. As the pregnancy progresses, the risks increase, so they need to watch over me more diligently. This, of course, does not make it easier to relax.
Nine days overdue. Everything still fine. Baby’s healthy. I’m healthy. But my gyno warns, that could change all at once. It’s best to call the hospital and schedule the induction now.
At a week overdue, I knew this was something I would have to think about soon. Most obstetricians in the US and in Germany recommend inducing labor at a week or 10 days overdue, respectively.
The midwives here in Germany, however, are cool with you waiting 14 days. Due dates or just estimates after all.
And so I place all my hopes on the next five days, that everything will change in this timeframe. Statistically, it’s likely he’ll come out then.
Walking out of the doctor’s office, I look down at my belly and whisper, Come on, little one. It’s time.
I have hope, but of course I’m still worried it won’t work out. I don’t want to give birth in the hospital, and I don’t want to be induced. In fact, I don’t want any medication at all.
I planned to give birth in the Geburtshaus (the birthing house) — not the hospital. But I can’t be induced in the Geburtshaus because midwives don’t have the qualifications to medically induce labor. They are also not allowed to help women who are more than 14 days overdue give birth. So if he doesn’t come in the next few days all my plans will be foiled.
Eleven days overdue, at my appointment at the Gerburtshaus, I’m offered an enema. The idea is that by clearing away the extra junk (leftover poop?) in the bowels, there may be more room for the baby to be able to come out.
I lay on my side on the floor of the bathroom and spread my cheeks apart as the midwife sticks a hose up my butt and shoots water inside. This feels weird but okay. Afterwards is the challenge.
I l have to lie there holding the water in until the prescribed 10 minutes pass, trying not to shit myself. I do this by taking deep breaths in and out. Then when the time is finally up, I release it all (mostly) in the toilet.
Please come out now, I hope.