When I was nearing the end of my first pregnancy, I tried just about everything to encourage labour and avoid being induced: I ate tons of pineapple and spicy food, went for long walks, bellydanced, and practiced yoga. I knew there was no guarantee, but I was confident labour would start on its own.
Despite my best efforts, my due date came and went. And kept on going. I hadn?t the tiniest hint that labour was impending?no cramps, no bloody show, and not a single Braxton Hicks contraction. I started to worry. The hospital had me on the clock: their policy would only let me go eleven days past my due date before they induced labour.
So I upped my game. I went for acupuncture, took homeopathics, and got my husband to try acupressure on my swollen feet. Surely one of these things would do the trick. But at my 41-week checkup, the doctor told me the baby hadn?t dropped and my cervix wasn?t the least bit dilated. Even though an ultrasound showed a healthy baby and plenty of amniotic fluid, I had no choice: if labour didn?t start in four days, I would be induced. It was time to pull out all the stops. I tried acupuncture, nipple stimulation, evening primrose oil, and sex (by this stage of pregnancy, a last resort). My doula even brought me a jar of raspberry leaf tea so strong it looked?and tasted?like swamp water. I choked it down dutifully.
At t-minus two days, I was getting frantic. I scoured the internet for ways to trigger labour. And that?s when I found it: the famous labou...