Many women dread being pregnant during the final stretch. They’re uncomfortable and anxious to meet their baby. Some go the extra length to naturally induce their labor using popular tricks like eating spicy foods, sex, exercise, or acupuncture.
I was 39 weeks pregnant and in no big rush. I had taken a couple of weeks off before my due date to relax at home and prepare it for the baby’s big debut. Another thing on my mind was “sprucing up” for the big day. Many doctors were going to see me. Lots of photos were going to be taken. What does all of this have to do with inducing my labor, you ask? Read on and find out.
The Night Before I Induced Labor
The night before I went into real labor, I had experienced mild, infrequent contractions. As someone who regularly researches ailments online to find out what’s going on, I suspected I was experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions. No biggie, this was normal. I was able to fall back asleep without a hitch.
The Next Day, 2:30 P.M: The Lash Job
I called the advice nurse the next day, and sure enough, she said that I was probably going through “pre-labor” — meaning that I was feeling contractions, but none of them were dilating my cervix.
Thinking it would be a while before I went into real labor, I decided to spend the day as I had initially planned: relaxing with some beauty appointments. After all, my due date was a week away, and many first-time pregnancies were late anyway. Boy, was I in for a rude awakening.
My first appointment was getting my lashes done. I had this mental image of myself in labor with no makeup, matted hair, and sweat dripping down all parts of my body — not exactly picture perfect in my eyes. Lashes created an Instagram-like filter for my face without the Instagram filter. As I had my lashes done, I got more contractions. They were mildly uncomfortable, but again, I didn’t think much of them because they were coming in at random times. I interpreted this as my body going through more Braxton Hicks. I leisurely counted eight contractions in the span of my 90-minute appointment — a piece of cake.
Later That Day, 5 P.M.: The Wax Job (Brazilian Style)
As I was driving by myself to my first ever Brazilian wax appointment, I experienced my first excruciating contraction. Enough to jolt me in my seat.
Pause. First ever appointment? Yes, it was my first ever. I’m a typical shaver, but I hadn’t been able to see myself down there in ages. So, wax it was. Now, back to the story.
The smart thing to do would have probably been to head back home and relax. But no — I was determined. After all, my appointment was only three minutes away. I explained my situation to the beautician. Unsurprisingly, she hesitated and questioned whether we should reschedule. But I told her I would go for it — after all, I was already there.
The beautician yanked the first strip off, and immediately alarm bells blared in my head. I silently screamed: oh my f*ck. I knew a Brazilian wax had to be somewhat painful, but this was TORTURE. It was too late to turn back now. I had no idea what I looked like down there — it could look like a furry caterpillar for all I knew. So on it went. And in between each painful strip, I felt an even more painful contraction. Over, and over again.
Fifteen minutes later, I could barely walk. I called my husband to pick me up. He was looking at me like I was bonkers. By the time I got home, I was regularly experiencing contractions four minutes apart. That was code for “it’s time to go to the hospital.”
The Following Day, 12:24 A.M.: My Beautiful Baby Boy Was Born
When I arrived at the hospital, it didn’t take long for my contractions to speed up and come in on top of each other. I had no time to breathe in between, which meant all of my breathing exercises went out the window. I white-knuckled the sides of my hospital bed, hardly looking at anyone, and also barely uttering a peep. My doula tried to massage me and get me into a calm state, but I didn’t register who or how many people were in the room. All I could think about was, “Where was that damn epidural?!” When it finally came, I didn’t know whether to thank God or science. I did a little of both. I was in my cloud of heaven, finally able to laugh when the doc made some jokes to get me through the finish line.
At a little over seven hours of active labor, mine was definitely on the faster end, especially since it was my first baby. Did the Brazilian wax induce my labor? Who knows — but I’m pretty sure it didn’t slow it down. I told one of my pregnant friends my story, and she ended up doing the same thing a few months later. Her first little one also came out with a quickness, in 4-5 hours. Coincidence? Not sure.
So would I do a Brazilian when my next little one is right around the corner? Nah. It turns out when I was in the agony of labor or cloud nine with the epidural, I could give a rat’s ass if my vagina looked like a full-blown Amazonian rainforest. And besides, the Amazon is beautiful, anyway.
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