The due date that came and went

Well, it is three days past my official due date, and Bannock is not showing any interest in making an appearance on this terrestrial sphere. I knew before I hit the 40 week mark that it is quite common for first pregnancies to run over term, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the psychological toll this would exact. It’s kind of like running a marathon, and then having “someone” (*ahem* Bannock) tack on an extra mile at the end. Instead of a mini-me, I’ve been hanging out with this ugly dude:


Only a mother could love this face…

Also my more-human, but less toothy Momalot, who arrived last Tuesday. Since she has no baby to cuddle, she has been forced to fill her time by cooking butter beef, and buying me ice cream. This is healthy pregnancy eating at its finest.


Not quite sure how I ever fit in her torso


Todd and I spent my due date at the hospital. My doctor wanted to make sure that everything was still looking normal, so he prescribed a non-stress test for Bannock. Basically, I had a couple of monitors strapped to my impossibly large mid-section in an effort to determine whether Bannock was still moving normally. While I appreciated the diligence, I could have answered that question on my own: Bannock and her best friend Placenta are throwing a rager.


Only in Thailand do the birthing rooms and nurses look like they belong in a soothing spa.

I took the test in the room that I will most likely be giving birth in. It was nice to get a feel for it in advance, but also an annoying reminder that we weren’t there for the actual event. So I made Todd placate me with more ice cream.


If you haven’t tried Haagen Dazs’s salted caramel flavour yet, do yourself a favour and buy some immediately. It may be trendy, but you won’t care once it’s in your mouth.

The rest of my recent pre-child days have been filled with bad photo shoots, bouncing on my birthing ball, and giving Bannock lectures about the importance of respecting other people’s schedules.


In the battle of the bulge, Bannock is clearly dominating.


Ok. That’s probably enough whining, and more than enough revolting photographs of me. I’ll try to enjoy these last, fleeting moments of butter beef bliss, and start preparing the ultimate sermon on punctuality that I will preach to Bannock throughout her life.

18 thoughts on “The due date that came and went

  1. I feel for you! Both kids were “late” (though when they arrived, they most certainly didn’t look post-dates) and it was so, so, so hard. The end of pregnancy is a bit of a cruel joke. I felt like I was going to be pregnant FOREVER! Whine lots and eat lots of ice cream, that’s the only solution 🙂 Good luck friend, I’m thinking of you!

    • Thanks for the sympathy, Erin! I had no idea that it would be so tough. My doctor generally induces at 41 weeks, which is definitely part of the reason for my anxiety. I know that inductions often work out just fine, but I really don’t want one 😦

      • Ugh, I remember that. Keep in mind that if anybody phones you and opens with “so, have you had the baby yet?” the laws of every civilized country in the world allow you to kill them immediately.

        My solution to this was to schedule cool things like a pedicure with a friend or going to a movie I really wanted to see. The theory is that babies, being perverse and wanting to sabotage your life, will arrive in order to disrupt those plans. Failing that, at least you are doing something fun. Hang in there, it can’t last forever no matter how much you feel like it is!

  2. You’re funny Ruth. Bannock just needs to bake a little more. Glad to see that your mom arrived safely. Make her promise not to jaywalk across busy streets with your newborn attached to her body… 🙂

  3. Good luck on the life-long task of teaching punctuality 🙂 Our two were/are both inclined to lateness. But both worth waiting for… You’re in our prayers! xoxo

  4. When I was overdue with Emily I ate an entire pineapple in desperation. Don’t do that. Just in case you were considering your options. That’s not a good one.

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