It might have been a little bit funny the first time.
It doesn't even make sense! Jostle the baby around and it'll come out? Whatever. Not that easy.
I know, I know, it's a joke. But an old one.
I'm much more likely to have success starting labor by nursing my toddler, which is what I've been doing as often as possible, because it actually gets some hormone action going. Hormones are what we need here, not the bouncing of a car/haywagon/donkey/rickshaw/go-cart/moon rover/elephant.
Stop. Just don't say it. Eh! I know you want to. Just stop yourself.
Also, there are quite a few men out there who just can't help themselves from daily asking: "You had that baby yet? HARharhar..." Aieee.
But I'm not bitter.
So yeah. We're starting to joke around that there is not baby coming, made it up, haha, fooled you.
Psyche! Made you look.
Every day we get up and start another day, just like the one before. Mom comes downstairs and looks and me and just shakes her head. No baby yet.
I woke up pretty depressed about it all this morning. (And the sun was not shining, so that didn't help. Whine, whine, whine. I know.) And then I read this quote from Luther:
We are such softies, such sapless sufferers. A pain in the leg can cause us to fill heaven with our howls and wails, our grumbling and cursing. But the good God permits such small evils to befall us merely to arouse us snorers from our deep sleep and to make us recognize, on the other hand, the incomparable and innumerable benefits we still have.
We are also to look at our misfortunes in no other way than that with them God gives us a light by which we may see and understand His goodness and kindness in countless other ways. Then we conclude that such small misfortunes are barely a drop of water on a big fire or a little spark in the ocean.
So there's that.
And seriously? To equate this little "delay" in my mind with a "misfortune" is actually silly. Hello??!?! I'm having a baby! A real baby! Who is, right now, alive, and apparently healthy, and already a tremendous blessing. I wouldn't blame God for actually rolling his eyes at me and all my grousing, or laughing a little, like I do to my kids when they are having such minor little troubles.
And I know that. Right? But I'm kind of a wimp.
I certainly need the reminder, even if I whine about it.