On Christmas Day 2005, I was mistaken for Santa Claus. I was pregnant, one week past my due date, and as big as a whale. The previous night there had been unusual activity on the part of the baby, and knowing that our own OB/GYN was on call at the hospital, we decided to go in on Christmas morning to be checked out. After I’d spent some time hooked up to various monitors and gadgets, the verdict was that I should be induced.
I suspect that the baby was fine, but that my hubby-to-be had a quiet pleading word with the doctor (“Pleeeeeeease, Doctor! You’ve gotta get this baby out of her! She’s so big that she’s taking up all the space in the bed, and she’s been behaving like an antichrist for the last two weeks!) (more…)