~When you are pregnant with a baby and have a due date…you naturally become aware of other women in your life with a similar due date. The girls in your congregation at church, your neighbor a few floors above you, friends on facebook, etc. And because of your past two pregnancies, you tell yourself: all of these people are going to have their babies before me. And then when you are right, all you feel is crappy.
I better deliver before my two besties due in August.
~When you have had pregnancy experiences in the past that tell you you will be late, you learn from that and you don’t set yourself for emotional disaster, rather, you prepare for the long haul. And then you can’t help but think of the various due dates that have been assigned to your baby (Last Menstrual Period Calculation, early ultrasound prediction, 20-week ultrasound prediction), and then they all pass. Suddenly all that joking you were doing about being lucky to deliver before July, isn’t a joke anymore, because July is just around the corner and…it turns out that joking around about that was also setting yourself up for emotional disaster.
My induction date is the day before school lets out. (maniacal laughter)
~When you think it’s your third baby, and you have a good solid due date this time, and you are bound to have a baby by mid-June, it is reasonable to plan for some things in early July. And as the days get closer and closer to early July and you are still pregnant, you start picturing yourself doing those activities in early July and all you can picture is a stack of maxi pads, a container of tucks and lansinoh cream for the blisters on your nipples. Suddenly those activities don’t seem as fun as they were when you planned them.
And so I don’t think I will be doing those fun things I planned.
~Your family has been very patient with you, but then your 7-year-old daughter starts composing music with the lyrics: “Even when your Mom is cranky all the time,” and so you deny it and then she keeps singing: “yes you are!”
I just feel bad.
And that is why I cried all the day long on Saturday. Seriously, I couldn’t even find words to describe why I was crying. My only solace being that it was my 4th pregnancy meltdown in 41 weeks, and that’s pretty good right?
And that is why I started knitting the chevron baby blanket (challenging) project that I was saving for just this instance of waiting. Because counting is easier than waiting. And I am quite certain I will finish the project before my baby comes out.
Even though there is an end to this pregnancy, and it is guaranteed to be within the next 8 days and I am assuming it will end with a beautiful healthy baby girl, I think the hardest part is the fact that I let myself dream of going into labor unassisted, without intervention. Literally, almost every night as I fell asleep the past 35ish weeks, I pictured surges starting and sphincters opening and labor happening to my body this time, instead of medical intervention starting everything up. I even put waterproof pads on my bed, dreaming I would be part of the 15% of women whose water actually breaks on its own.
So I’m mad I let myself dream. And I’m mad that I can’t recognize my blessings in the midst of the retched waiting. I’m mad at people asking me that dreaded question. I’m mad that everyone else had their baby before me. I’m mad that I’m cranky. I’m mad that I have stocked up on food twice, lice-checked twice (oh can you imagine if I had found any?????) and I’m going to have to repaint my toenails again. I’m mad my body won’t do what it’s supposed to do. I’m mad that in moments of weakness I think about shoddy, worn-out placentas, calcified babies and still births. I’m mad that the skin on my stomach is peeling like a snake. I’m mad that I did not have ONE contraction yesterday. I’m just mad that I’m mad!