Dear Pregnancy Gods, Please Gimme My Wife Back

Image: mendhak‘s photostream via Creative Commons.

Dear Pregnancy Gods,

Please gimme my wife back. Don’t get me wrong, this lactose dependent being (as presumed by her legendary and daily ice cream consumption) is charming, and she looks as beautiful as ever, swollen belly and all. And, what’s more, she’s still carrying on much as she did before her pregnancy. Just yesterday for example, she reigned supreme (yet again) in her tennis match. On court number one, mind you. And at 39 weeks and 1 day pregnant, no less.

But she’s often… how do I say this?… a cantankerous bitch (in a sweet way, honey) who is prone to bouts of indecisiveness so profound that our last child could well live his entire life in a state of utter namelessness. (How about Pablo, honey? Pablo Osborne?)

Yet pregnancy gods, there is one thing that Caroline’s done a wonderful job in deciding. She is, indeed, going to go for a VBAC. Given how fit she is, and that she’s already at 1cm and 80%, her doctor likes the chances of a vaginal delivery. A lot. Like almost as much as he likes her. Wait. That’s bullshit. I doubt if there’s anything in this entire world that man likes as much as he likes my wife. But still, he is optimistic.

Which is quite exciting. But it also means that, unlike last time, this birth is entirely out of our control. And say what you want about C-sections, but knowing exactly when a birth will go down is awfully convenient. And it turns out that we’re running low on convenience right now. (Relax, honey. Low on convenience. Not on ice cream.) I mean, we’ve got four kids. And they can’t just magically take care of themselves while Mommy and Daddy zip off to the hospital to have a baby real quick. No matter how well our monitors work. So we’re trying to come up with a game plan. But it’s hard. Especially given that Caroline can’t even be induced on account of her prior C-section.

And all of this uncertainty is taking a toll on us. Especially on Caroline. Sure, I may be praying for y’all to gimme my wife back, but she’s praying for y’all to give her her life back. Because it turns out that Tom Petty was right. The waiting really is the hardest part.

See, it boils down to this. We’re in that space in between. The pregnancy is essentially over, yet the life has not begun. And there’s so much that’s about to go down. Everyone knows that the first few months of an infancy is taxing on the parents. And one would have to assume that having three toddlers around during those first few months will make matters harder still — even if we are lucky to have Alli’s help. (Which we are. She’s an incredible big sister.)

So we’re ready to start the clock, thank you very much. In short? We’ve got a case of the Get-The-Fuck-On-With-Its like you’ve never seen before. And it’s getting worse by the day. And as it does, Caroline becomes more and more consumed with the pot (belly) that refuses to boil. And I’m ready for it to boil.

Because I wanna trade endless pregnancy for sleeplessness / fussy baby this very second. In fact, I’m chomping at the bits to meet Grand Finale Osborne. I wanna hold him. And feed him. And burp him. And change him. And swaddle him. And love him.

And there’s only one way for all that to happen. For y’all to gimme my wife back. So whaddya say, pregnancy gods? Don’t you think it’s time you do just that? I do. Because she’s ready. And we’re ready. We’re all ready.

Just think about it, okay? Let us know what you decide.

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About john cave osborne

John Cave Osborne is a writer whose work has appeared on such sites as DisneyBaby, Babble, YahooShine, TLC and the Huffington Post. He was also referenced by Jezebel one time, but he’s pretty sure they were making fun of him. He and his wife, Caroline, live with their five children and spastic dog in Knoxville, TN. Nothing annoys him more than joke-heavy bios written in the third person, with the possible exception of Corey Feldman.

  • Juli

    I have to hand it to you, you’ve managed to make “cantankerous bitch” a term of endearment in my book. May the pregnancy Gods be listening and grant you your wish. I hope Caroline  goes into labor this weekend and that she has a quick, as pain-free as possible and safe delivery so y’all can bring Pablo home and get on with business. *I think I just violated some New Englander’s code by using the term “y’all.” You and your (sorry, y’alls”) charming Southern accents have done that to me.

    • John Cave Osborne

      no, no, no. you most certainly did NOT violate any New Englander’s code, but rather made a nice gesture to your redneck buddies to the South. thanks for the well wishes!

  • Annette Eads W

    Pablo? How about Oscar? Oscar Osborne! Has a nice symmetry, doesn’t it? Sounds like he’d be a hell of a lot of fun, too! Although you’ve called him Grand Finale for so long that perhaps his initials should be G.F.

    • John Cave Osborne

      how about Pablo Oscar Osborne. we’ll call him Winnie. as in Winnie the Poo. (oh my. sorry.)