Ready When You Are
Posted by Elizabeth
The sun has barely begun slicing through the day and I can’t sleep. I lie wide awake, tangled in a cyclone of sticky sheets, clutching my half-moon belly. I feel the tumbles, rolls, and kicks of my baby, finally resigning myself to the fact that there will be no more sleep in this short night. I pour myself a bowl of cereal and prepare a cup of raspberry leaf tea, my first of three for the day, which I am assured will help nudge labor along. After mindlessly surfing the Web and wandering aimlessly around the house, pausing for a long while at the entrance to the nursery, I force myself into the prickly morning heat. I shuffle slowly down the sidewalk, a lone walker on this early Sunday morning, finding reprieve under the cool canopy of trees in the park two blocks from my house. Here I will dutifully waddle four times around the well-worn path littered with gnarled tree roots: another surefire labor-enhancer.
Although I’ve brought my iPod along to keep me company, I resist the urge to drown my world in music and instead decide to tune into the life teeming around me. Joggers breeze by me, their tennis shoes scraping like sandpaper on the pavement. The trees erupt in a riot of birdsong. Hummingbirds whiz about, erratically dive-bombing the wintergreen grass. I hear the satisfying thwap of a tennis ball hitting the racket’s sweet spot in the courts just beyond. Nearly everyone I pass smiles at me, for no other reason than the fact that I’m about to become a mother. I’ll miss that, I think to myself. As I make my way around the park, I realize that it’s the first time this week that my attention hasn’t been focused on the past or future, on what I’m about to lose, on what I’m about to gain.
At the appointment with my midwife last Tuesday, she informed me that, three weeks until my due date, I was already one centimeter dilated. “And I can touch the baby’s head,” she said, which seemed impossible to me, another reminder that the veil between here and there is rapidly vaporizing. Although she was quick to remind me that labor could begin hours – or weeks – from now, that there is no way to predict a baby’s entrance into this world, I couldn’t help but smile smugly to myself when a woman at my prenatal yoga class that night boldly predicted that I wouldn’t there next week. “If we don’t see you, good luck with your delivery!” she confidently called over her shoulder after class. Buoyed, I madly dashed around town running last-minute errands, making contingency plans, squeezing in appointments. I dreamt about floods and puddles on the kitchen floor. I sat quietly on the couch, a human diving rod watching for the slightest tinge or tingle that might indicate that labor was on its way. Then, nothing.
As I drift off to sleep each night I place my hands on my belly and recite a silent prayer to baby, whose final words are, We’re ready whenever you are. Somewhere during the course of the week I foolishly allowed myself to believe that labor – that life itself – would unfold according to my time line. That when I was ready the wheels would be set into motion. But the reality is that life plays out according to its own schedule, a schedule which none of us are privy to an advanced screening. My daughter is already teaching me how to let go. Instead of scoffing at admonitions to “sleep while you can” and “enjoy it while it lasts,” I will embrace the underlying message as this week yawns ahead of me: savor the moment and be in the now. I will look forward to meals with friends, where we will laugh about the past and wonder about the future. I will get a haircut and a pedicure. I will enjoy a final fabulous meal with Maikael as a family of two. All, some, or none of these plans will happen. Who knows what will happen? But until I do I will drink my tea and take my walks, with no greater expectation than enjoying them for what they are, right now.
Do you struggle with forcing life to adhere to your time line? I’m due August 31; anybody want to hazard a guess on the birth date?
August 16th, 2010 at 5:32 am
This post made me smile. Miss D. arrived on her due date, after a tuna sandwich and a 3 mile walk.
Can’t wait to meet your new addition!
August 16th, 2010 at 6:11 am
My sister and I always talk about how this is the very first way that the baby asserts their control over your life now … we can’t predict, and that drives many of us (at least me!) insane … welcome!
I can’t wait for baby news. xo
August 16th, 2010 at 8:55 am
You seem to have a really good sense regarding the journey on which you are about to embark. Still nothing can prepare you for when the baby – which was a hypothetical — becomes a physical reality. You will be great — can’t wait to hear all about it.
August 16th, 2010 at 10:26 am
Been thinking of you a lot lately. I really loved this post. Sending you good thoughts for the weeks to come!
August 16th, 2010 at 11:00 am
You are in such a good place. Reading this, I look back and wish I would have savored the last weeks of my pregnancies instead of focusing solely on the future. I loved being pregnant, and should have allowed myself to enjoy that silence before the storm.
I tried every self-induction suggestion I heard with no luck. She’s on her own schedule, too!
With both girls, I had steady contractions a minute apart, without much discomfort. I made the mistake of heading to the hospital based on what the books told me, instead of what my body told me. Having a midwife should help you, though. If there’s ever a “next time” for me, I’ll go that route. Hospitals try so hard to get you to follow their process, and don’t understand when you don’t cooperate. I didn’t cooperate.
Your body was made for this, and has spent months preparing. Try not to listen to the Debbie Downers. People love to share their “nightmare” birthing stories. Yours will be what you make it; enjoy!
I am eagerly awaiting news. I know the magic you’re about to experience, and I am so excited for you.
August 16th, 2010 at 11:05 am
This makes me smile, Elizabeth. “Ready when you are.” Such words of peace and serenity, patience and acceptance.
Should we start a pool?! I’m guessing August 23 (not that I have any experience of knowledge of this stuff).
August 17th, 2010 at 3:34 pm
This post made me smile and brought me back. Both my girls came early – 2.5 and 1.5 weeks. Any day
I say August 24. Good luck and feel well!
August 17th, 2010 at 7:54 pm
There seems to be overwhelming consensus for the August 23-25 time frame. I wouldn’t bet against it!
August 17th, 2010 at 7:57 pm
This made me so nostalgic, as my youngest just turned two a few days ago
I walked around dilated 2 1/2-3 for a few weeks… (bust still a few days early)
My first was early 2 1/2 weeks early! They come when they’re ready. All we can do is be ready to hold them in our arms and welcome them when it’s their time. I’m in awe of your awareness of the moment. Such an important thing, and I wish I felt it more back then.
Good luck
(came over after seeing you on Aidan’s blog list, and remembering Lindsey talk about your blog at one point recently! So glad I made it over…)
Hang in there
August 18th, 2010 at 7:32 am
Corinne, thanks for stopping by! It’s always wonderful to welcome new readers.