A watched bump...
...doesn’t drop, laments Carrie Linder.
Much like a watched kettle doesn’t boil; a watched baby bump doesn’t drop. I would know. I have spent hours on bump-patrol: i.e. observing the profile of my bump in the mirror trying to perceive even the slightest shift south, but all in vain. This baby seems quite comfortable where it is, thank you very much.

I guess I could be spending bump-patrol time more productively. I could be using all those hours to knit a pair of booties. Or find a cure to poverty or the key to world peace (both of which I would find easier and quicker than knitting booties). But instead I am fixated on the baby engaging.

I do (sometimes) do other things. Like eating spicy food, drinking pineapple juice, jumping up and down on trampolines and, of course, walking. In fact, this evening I managed to tear myself away from bump-patrol long enough to walk 5 kilometres! There was a time (roughly 8 1/2 months ago) when I would openly scorn anyone who considered walking 5 kilometres a form of exercise, but now I consider it an amazing athletic achievement (what’s even more of an achievement is the fact that I managed to not pee once en route).

Although the walk was pleasant enough, sadly gravity didn’t work its magic; my bump is still a high, round soccer ball. I get my husband to have a word with his child and ask it to scoot on down (it’s his child when it misbehaves and mine when it is very cute – a pattern I plan on sticking to once it is out of the womb). But the baby (his baby) appears to be quite disobedient and doesn’t budge.

Apparently some babies don’t engage until labour is in full swing, but I am not even going there. This baby needs to move. Soon. According to one of the (many) physiotherapists I’ve consulted, engaging is all that will relieve my chronic mid-back pain. I know that engaging comes with its own discomforts: lower back pain and the need to pee more often (can it really get any worse? I might need a catheter), but I will take it all in exchange for the back pain I currently have.

Sadly, there’re still 23 days and 8 hours until my due date (not that I’m counting), so I guess I should try to distract myself or else I might go insane before then.

Maybe I should have a crack at knitting those booties. But not before I have one last peek in the mirror.

Did you become obsessed waiting for signs of bump movement? What tricks do you know to get it moving?

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