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Thursday, January 26, 2012

Baby Carrots

Today we've looked up home remedy inducing ideas on the net and discarded a few - caster oil for example. Apparently is stimulates the gut and makes you feel nauseous.

"I don't need a laxative," Tracey told me as she rubbed her belly. "I'm a week overdue. I've already got the shits."

Impatient for out little bundle of joy to join us, we've embraced the slightly ridiculous here in the Devereaux household.

We've been set a day for Tracey being induced, something she isn't keen to endure after the prolonged and painful delivery it produced with our current Miss8.

"Of course the baby's not coming," said Tracey this morning. "We haven't even got her cot set up."

Now I'm not sure of the logic behind this because I'm pretty sure my mum tells a story about her parents putting little newborns to bed in bottom draws in lieu of cradles.

And in fact the cot is set up, it's just in a different room. Currently we use it as a cell to keep Miss2 in one spot long enough for her to drop off to sleep. And to keep her in that same spot should she wake during the night. It is, in fact, playing a pivotal role in my sanity. Tonight in the wee hours I predict I shall be digging under beds in search of our port-a-cot with Miss2 alternatively jumping on my back and demanding 'boddles'.

Despite this, Miss17 and I moved the cot into the main bedroom today. We also rearranged the lounge room into a more baby safe configuration which I mention only to show how awesome a husband I am (which is only slightly offset by the knowledge Tracey has been asking me to do it for a month).

So now the cot is up in the right room things should really start moving, right? Back to the internet.

None of home remedies really seemed to offer much hope though, not curries or pineapple juice. Nipple stimulation kept cropping up as encouraging, though even sex was deemed inconclusive (I'm demanding a recount).

Interestingly enough one web site suggested oral sex instead of actual penetration because the semens high concentration of prostaglandins is more quickly digested through the gut. Well I found it interesting.

"I'd rather drink the caster oil," Tracey said.

Short of sitting between Tracey's knees dangling a dummy and a bottle on a stick I don't know what else we can do. I just hope we don't go all the way to Tuesday.


2 comments:

Carly said...

I used acupuncture and acupressure. Also used a tens machine. Drank raspberry leaf tea. Curb walked. Everything. Was induced at 10 days over.

mj86 said...

Just thought I'd drop you a comment to say 'Hi', just discovered your blog through a friends facebook share. It's a hoot to read, love how relatable your writing is :)

About Me

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Bruce Devereaux is one of the nicest people he knows. When not at work he enjoys reading, writing, hiding from his children and not changing nappies.

 

His career, and if we used the term any more loosely an e might fall out, has included a gardener, a personal lender, a console operator, a stop/go man (not as big a bludge as you might think but great if you’re into sunburn, abuse and varicose veins), a cleaner of banks and pubs and, for a very brief period, a door to door salesman (until the last door he knocked on was answered by a very scary woman with tremendously hairy legs).

 

Bruce Devereaux currently works as a forty-five-year-old award winning customer service officer (glass statuette available upon request) for the Bank of Queensland and as a very casual employee for Corrective Services. He likes to believe he excels at both but then he has always been prone to exaggeration.

 

His favourite colour is green, with a picture of Dame Nellie Melba on one side and General Sir John Monash on the other. His favourite flower is self-raising.

 If you see him around town, call his wife immediately - he's probably snuck out and left her alone with all the kids.


 

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