When my oldest sister at some late point in her second pregnancy realized that she was sick of being pregnant, she decided on doing three things: (1) go see a movie, (2) have a drink afterwards, and (3) eat something really over the top.
I do not remember what the movie was (but it might have been The Dark Knight, come to think of it), then she went to a small but crowded pub and drank half a beer — she had been sober during the entire pregnancy, so she knew it wouldn’t be medically bad for the baby (and it was certainly relaxing) — and then she wanted to eat big time.
So she ordered an XL Kebab with beef (and garlic sauce).
Now this might not seem strange to you, dear reader, but my sister was (and still is) fanatically vegetarian-borderlining-vegan, and she had not eaten meat for many years.
When the Kenab was gone, she asked her boyfriend to bring her to the hospital, because her water had broken. And upon arrival in the hospital, her second daughter was born within 20 minutes — she simply shot out of the mother ship without any pushing required.
It was my sister’s reversed one-two-three punch version of the breathing method —
And a beef Kebab marked the spot.