“Any more signs?”
“Is that baby going to come OUT already?”
“It feels like you’ve been pregnant forEVER!”
Turns out, telling everyone about my contractions and whatnot…? Not such a hot idea. Even though Baby Girl isn’t officially due for another two-and-a-half weeks, friends and family are now clamoring for her arrival. Yesterday wouldn’t be soon enough. And I, being the Baby Vessel and all, feel like I am letting them down. A disappointment of epic proportions. I feel like mighty Casey at the Bat, unable to deliver the winning run for his beloved town of Mudville.
Of course, a bat may not be the safest way to encourage Baby Girl to leave her comfy womb. So I have tried all of the recommended — and slightly less violent — labor inducers to help speed things along: an entire container of sliced pineapple; spicy Indian food; more pineapples; the sexy time; walking; and, oh yes, some more pineapples. Clearly, these “jump-starters” haven’t been terribly effective. But I would not be at all surprised if Baby Girl emerged with a piña colada in hand.
Sensing our desperation — maybe it was our cries of “WE’RE DESPERATE!” that tipped them off — a couple of Mr. Candy’s colleagues recommended a pizza joint in The Valley famous for its labor-inducing salad dressing. “Oh, that’s silly!” I laughed, pineapple juice dripping from my chin, when Mr. Candy first told me about it. Then my doctor actually suggested trying “The Salad.” Yes! A licensed medical professional! Or, um, at least I think she’s licensed. (She determined I’m carrying a girl by checking the Chinese Lunar Calendar — that’s totally legit, right?)
So you know where we ended up on Saturday. Yup, Caioti Pizza Cafe.
Behold the Magic Baby-Popping Salad! Which is just a pile of romaine, watercress, walnuts and Gorgonzola. It’s the dressing — made of pure olive oil, balsamic vinegar, sun-dried tomatoes, spices, herbs and a “secret ingredient” — that apparently lures as many as 50 expectant moms a day. On Saturday afternoon…? I was the only desperate mama-to-be. I felt a little silly waddling in there, obviously in search of the Magic Salad Dressing, but then I thought about poor Casey at the Bat: It was time for me to take one for the team. And, more importantly, to get this freakin’ pregnancy over with already! Er, I mean… to help usher a beautiful new life into this world.
Here I am. Ushering.
“Are you in labor yet?” our server laughed five minutes later. Yeah. Ha, ha. Laugh at the miserable pregnant lady! That’s what they all do. (Yes, I’m looking at YOU, Mom.)
Fast-forward 30 hours: Baby Girl is still chilling in Club Candy. In fact, I swear she has actually crawled back UP the birth canal, pissed that I made her eat salad. Sorry, little one. My bad. Might I bribe you with some Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie Frozen Yogurt with a side of fried chicken…? Heeeeeeere, baby, baby!
This column was originally published on July 13, 2009. Baby Girl ultimately arrived on her due date. Yes! When she was supposed to! The nerve of that kid, I tell ya.