You are due, O Wee One. EMERGE.

Josephine told me this morning, "Mom!  I want to eat you up!  You're like a BIG, big BLUEBERRY!"

 Hard to disagree with her.

Here's the belly at 40 weeks.

I do have good news: my appointment this afternoon revealed that the contractions have been productive lately!  I'm 4-5 cm dilated, 70% effaced, and 100% THRILLED to hear that news.  It's a lot easier to wait around on his arrival if I know that things are actually progressing in the meantime.

That said, I've been brainstorming ways to convince him to come.

A) Acupuncture.  I am going to look into making an appointment tomorrow.  His father has a total phobia of needles; if that sort of thing is genetic, perhaps if he notices my flesh being pierced, he'll be inspired to leave.

B) He's clearly too comfortable in there.  I know myself and my own tendencies with inertia... I'm assuming he's not much different.  So I need to make life a little less comfortable for him.  To that end, I have taken up various outdoor agendas— being sure to do one or two things outside each afternoon that involve general physical misery: mosquitos and sweating and bending.  Things like gardening, hanging laundry, filling car tires with air, canoeing (this was fun, but not comfortable), weed-whacking, installing car seats, etc.  I shall continue with this agenda, namely because it seems to irritate him, so I think it's effective. As I get increasingly desperate, I might need to increase the amount of discomfort.  (Downside is that I get tired about the time that the contractions really ramp up, so I run off to bed terrified that I've started something I don't have the energy to complete.)

C) Make him pay.  In this society, if something is overdue, it doesn't come without penalty.  Time to introduce him to the real world.
My first thought was to take the approach of overdue fines; according to Austin public library system, that's 25 cent/day for a book or $1/day for a DVD.  That seems pretty weak, to be honest.  Not sure it would really provide the needed incentive.
My second thought was that I might be able to sue for breach of contract.  But perhaps that's too far to the other extreme… a bit heavy-handed.  Might hinder the maternal-infant bond when he does arrive.  (And while I could no doubt prove that I sustained damages due to his breach, some folks might debate whether a valid contract existed in the first since the fetus never signed a dotted line.)
In the end, I think I'll just start charging rent.  He booked this room for 40 weeks.  Staying longer will incur at a pro-rated daily charge of $25.63/day.  (Price figured off the going studio apartment rate here in our neighborhood.  I think it's fair.  Every 3 or 4 days I'll have enough for a massage to ease my pains of facilitating the squatter, so that'll do.)

D) Audio filters.  I have grown sensitive to how various noises might sound to him.  We took a walk the other evening and passed two large dogs that barked their heads off at us.  The baby immediately went to kicking my ribs violently, which Sean interpreted as babyspeak for "MOM get out of here NOW.  NOT a good place for birth-- please find dark quiet cave."  I've also noticed that my contractions lessen dramatically around Josephine.  (However, I suspect that is my own subconscious being unsure that it's a wise thing to bring another baby into the world when I still have one very demanding dependent hanging around).  While I am not in control of how often he hears Josephine whine or fuss, I can at least influence the positive end of things, so I feel good about spending time laughing with friends.  We also just finished watching Lonesome Dove, so no more gunfire and indian whoops to keep him cowering.  In short, I'm trying to be mindful about how appealing life sounds out here.  Yesterday's weed-eating might have set us back a bit-- but I don't know-- maybe he likes power tools.  Anyway, it's okay for him to be introverted, but he needs to be that in an extroutero sort of way, so I'm attempting to coax him out by making this big, noisy world sound all happy and appealing.

E) Food.  This is truly a last resort, as I suffer equally, if not more so, by removing this persuasive pleasure.  But come on.  If your mom was feeding you steak and the occasional spoonful of gelato, would YOU exchange that for months of monotonous breastmilk?  And so the day is rapidly approaching in which I will need to engage in culinary warfare.  Nothing but dill pickles and sauerkraut (and bucketfuls of antacids).  Babies have extremely sensitive taste buds.  This is my last resort, but I'm convinced it would be more effective than the last few combined.

Already underway are at-home acupressure stimulation, sitting around on a stability ball, raspberry leaf tea, the occasional attempt at positive visualization, sniffing a hanky that's been sprinkled with clary sage, and other standard tricks of the trade.  We're TRYING to send the message.  Trying to point out that his due date is TODAY.  

Let's go, buddy!  

We'll all be happier when this part's over!