It worked before

Dear Uterus,

Thank you.  You've been truly great the last 40 weeks and 2 days.  Really.  You've made my life much easier than I expected it to be and I am forever grateful.  Not all uteruses were created equal and you seem to be one of the best.  You were made to carry babies.  Good job.  But it's my turn to hold him now.  You've had your share.  Give him up.

Now I know we've been a little unsure about when your tenure would be up.  But everybody else has been ready to help him move on out for weeks now and you won't release your grip.  I am convinced yesterday was the day.  You missed a deadline. You know how I feel about that.

Maybe you're scared.  Me too.  But would you rather spend each day scared or just buck up and face the inevitable?  Because seriously, there's only one way for this all to end.  And maybe you don't know what to do.  I'd buy that if you weren't so freaking awesome at your job the past 40 weeks.  I think you know.  You've even been practicing.  It's time to take the plunge and contract.  Repeatedly.  Now.

Now I don't want to threaten you, but the reality is if you decide to be stubborn and hold your ground and refuse, the doctor will intervene.  He'll force you to.  It's called induction and it will happen before week's end.  I know it's not fair.  But it's not fair for you to hold my baby hostage anymore, either.  Yes, I appreciate the physical comfort of not contracting, but you're throwing my hips and nerves all out of whack everywhere else - essentially holding my body hostage, too.  Let me be clear - I hate the idea of induction.  Hate it.  Can't really explain all the reasons why, but I don't want it.  You're just leaving me no choice.

But you still have options.  Contract.  Today.  Break that bag of waters.  Right now.  Just do it.  I know you can.  You'll be great.  In fact, the progress we've made the last three weeks tells me this will be quick and easy.  There are people out there who labor for 12 hours to get to where we are.  It's time.  Let's go.