Strangely Familiar

They say the definition of insanity is when you do the same thing over and over and expect to get a different result.

So what do they call it when you do the polar opposite and still get the same result?

Whatever they call it, I'm it. Finding a new pregnancy care provider was evidently a waste of my time and energy. My doctor is turning out to be as induction-shy as my midwives ever thought of being, although probably for completely different motives. The result is the same. I am still pregnant.

The irony is breathtaking. Disillusioned with the natural birth philosophy, whose ancient wisdom my body steadfastly flouts, I decided to save myself the misery and anxiety of a post-term pregnancy by defecting to "the enemy" - the dreaded obstetrician, wielding his pitocin and his scalpel. Lo and behold, I wound up with apparently the only OB in existence who does not believe in inducing without a "medical" reason. A history of complicated labors and overly large babies doesn't seem to be enough. Nor does a scan showing a rapidly-calcifying placenta. I'm not sure, at this point, what WOULD be a good enough reason that wasn't, on its own, serious enough to warrant an immediate c-section.

He pontificates, hems and haws. I'm not dilating. The baby is too high. She's posterior. I know all these things. I also know they are not likely to change, which means the only thing gained by waiting another week is another pound, by the baby.

Today my scheduled appointment, which I had hoped would show enough progress to admit me, was canceled due to massive thunderstorms that knocked out power to the office complex. So even God didn't want me to be induced today. I get it.

Tomorrow morning I go back in. My guess is the dr. will refuse it again, on the grounds that he is not on-call this weekend.

I might as well have stayed with the midwives.

Goodbye, March. I had such high hopes for you.