Induction-duction, what's your function?

Saturday, 7/23--Our projected due date: Contractions today thus far--3

All systems go. Baby's arrival could happen any time, and our good friend, Susan, came by and took some pre-labor photos yesterday. Here's a sample:

Susan thinks we might be in pre-labor shock, so relaxed are we about impending parenthood. To me, it likens more to an exam we've been cramming for the past nine months. I believe Jenn and I have both reached the, "Enough Already--Lets Do It" stage.

As I write this entry, thunder booms in the distance, and Summer monsoon clouds are boiling over the top of the Sandias. A westerly wind has kicked up filling the air with dust and the scent of rain. Jenn is in our bedroom napping, but I can't sleep. I find myself wanting to leapfrog the entire birthing process and simply get to the part where our daughter is in hand so I can learn how to diaper and care for and love her.

When I was a kid, I believed a mother's belly simply opened up like the Bat Cave. A doctor would reach in, take the baby out, and hand him/her to the mommy nice and clean and dry. Today, Jenn told me about  a modest woman at her "Mother and Baby Group" who stated that before she delivered, she was appalled at the idea of publicly defecating during the birth process. The woman shared that by the time she was in mid-labor, her philosophy about pooping in front of others had altered dramatically, and she summed up her new stance in one word: Whatever.

I imagine when Jenn enters her birth bubble, she will be in such an altered state, that the last thing she will be thinking about is her modesty. I have already started to see some disturbing signs. Jenn's belly has turned every shirt into an undersized lobster bib, and she now walks around with a Rorschach of food-stains spackling her tops. And her cleavage--once a part of Jenn's body fastidiously concealed under an array loose work shirts and dark-colored blouses--is now out there for the entire world to see like some two-bit hussy.

(Jenn has just come out from her nap after being woken up by another contraction or, as she called it, "that tightening thing in my belly. Up to four.)

Sunday, 7/24--Contractions today: One

To my sometimes-chagrin, we have a strict "No Computers in the Bedroom" policy. I have struggled with this decision even while seeing the wisdom in it. As a single man, those middle-of-the-night hours were creative and fruitful. I would grab my laptop and write or edit in bed for an hour or so before falling back to sleep beneath the blue-ish-gray haze of the computer screen. In the four years we have lived together, we have stuck to the no computers policy religiously. Until last night. It started with Jenn sitting on the glider-chair we bought for her to breastfeed and rock our daughter to sleep. We propped Jenn's feet up on the matching ottoman while we talked about this and that, and I painted her toes a gentle shade of burgundy.

Women are such mysterious creatures. Here Jenn is, on the cusp of the most powerful experience she will ever know, and she is feeling an intractable urge to have her nails done. Who am I deny this wish. By my reckoning, I painted three of her piggies with an excellence heretofore unseen by humankind; three others I did in an above average sort of way; and four were works of abstract art. Afterward, we brought Jenn's laptop into the bedroom, and watched the excellent, "Count of Monte Cristo," while eating a large bowl of buttery popcorn.

Bornnnnn to be Wiiild!

Today my wife and I will try to induce labor, and by induce I mean bump uglies/do the nasty/hide the salami/make sweet, sweet love/take the skin boat to tuna town.** This is yet another fact that everyone seemed to know about but me (i.e. one can speed up the birthing process through, ahem, adult activities). The potential for euphemistic fodder is staggering: "Hey, Jenn, the baby's asleep. Feel like inducing a little labor (wink-wink)?"

(Later that day) I am happy to report some  success. We were able to create one lone good-sized contraction and one minor one, but it doesn't feel like it's time for Zinnia to join us yet. I am constantly amazed at how many people are invested in the entry of this little girl. Every phone call, every email, every text (to Jenn--I don't text), nearly every person-to-person interaction includes some mention of the baby.

Here's a brief sample of emails received in the last 24 hours:

anything happening? if I don't get a reply, I am assuming that something is happening? Love you, ~E

We are ready to welcome Zinnia. She's à coming soon.
Love you and hope for a smooth arrival. Tom sorry I missed you. Next weekend we'll be in Florence. Probably be able to Skype. If you have à webcam we might be able to see Zinnia. (from brother Jimmy)

From our friend/photographer, Susan: Marc is headed to a birthday party and I am wondering if he should take Sofia just in case? Are you having any serious activity? He won't be back until 12:30 so Sofia would have to come with me if something happens before then. Let me know! suz

What is the news bro? (From friend and marimba teacher, Dan Pauli.)

I know Zinnia Rain is coming, but I am unsure when I will officially believe she is a reality. Probably when she crowns.

07/25/11

Tonight we went for a walk to get things moving, but the baby hasn't stirred, and I am too tired to do anymore inducing.  Jenn's belly is a tight basketball, and her naval has a mind of its own. Tomorrow's the day?

Tomorrow's the day.


**Thank you, Burgess Meredith.