I've been lied to.
Second babies don't come sooner. Second babies don't come faster. In fact, I'm not entirely convinced that second babies come at all.
Cha Cha and I walked around the mall this afternoon, hoping that the combination of movement and adorable baby clothes would kick up some activity, but to no avail. She and The Admiral picked M up from school again and swept her off to the library until dinnertime so I could get some rest, but that didn't do much, either. I stopped even looking at the clock or, really, even noting when I was having contractions at all, but since I've started paying attention again, I've timed them at 20 minutes. When they bother to come at all. So ... we're actually going backwards. Awesome.
At the appointment today, Andrea mentioned that we'd need to talk about our 42-week plan the next time we meet. I appreciate that she hasn't breathed a word about induction, homeopathic or otherwise, before now. With Miss M, I think my OB was already itching to do something when I came in at 40 weeks. But it's still discouraging to know there's a general feeling that this baby has no clear intention of coming out on his own. I know it's irrational, and I also know it's really common, but as we head into Day Three of Fake-Out Labor, with all the physical and emotional fatigue that entails, it's hard to have faith that it's ever going to happen.
But everyone says it will, and that's the one thing I need to believe.