What I always had a hard time grasping about my friends' pregnancies
was the end, the anxiety they described waiting for the baby to come. I
wasn't sure if this was an anxiety like I had experienced before with an
upset stomach and my thoughts racing. Being pregnant myself, I realize it's nothing like that. For me
personally I've found that it's this anxious hope that each practice
contraction will turn into something stronger and more painful. Yes at
this point in pregnancy you want those painful contractions. What had
actually occurred to me the other day is how many stages of waiting
there are when you're at the end of your pregnancy.
Stage
1) Actual contractions.
As an expectant mother you hope for
contractions that feel more painful than the mild contractions you've
experienced where your stomach is just hard and slightly uncomfortable.
You may even hope for cramps. Once these real and painful contractions start to happen, there's
yet another stage of waiting.
Stage 2) Real labor.
You
have to wait to see if these contractions become stronger and come
consistently. Otherwise you're likely experiencing Braxton Hicks
contractions. They're painful but they're irregular and don't get
stronger. Great, because I want to keep waiting.
Stage 3) Your contractions are coming at
regular intervals, they're strong and painful! Now it's time to go to
the hospital! You're half way there!
Now I do want to mention that if you're one of the
supposed 8% who's water breaks, you skip stages 1 & 2 and go
straight to this stage when it's time to go the hospital.
Stage
4) Labor in the hospital.
I've been trying to wrap my mind around the
fact that labor is long. It's long waiting before you go into the
hospital (unless your water breaks) and it's a long time in the hospital
waiting to dilate, get your epidural (if that's what you decided to do and depending on when you want it)
and pushing. Which brings me to my next stage.
Pushing!
Yeah
you don't actually push for say 5-10 minutes (unless maybe this is your
second or third or fourth child etc) and then get to hear that cry and
hold your amazingly perfect baby in your arms. No, you can push anywhere
from 30 minutes to 2 hours, if not longer. WHAT?! Who in the HELL
decided that was OK? Well no one but that's just how it is.
[side note: It's very
irritating that Hollywood has given us these unreal expectations about
labor and delivery. However, it is Hollywood and isn't everything
supposed to be better there? Besides this isn't about Hollywood.]
What I'm learning is that this is an practice in patience, knowing that your baby will come when he
or she is ready. Obviously as soon to be moms or those who have done
this before, we think we know when that would be best. Well, we don't get
a say in that, just like we don't get a 100% say in what our kids will be like.
It really doesn't help either with all kinds of
old wives tales saying to have sex, eat spicy food, get a pedicure (it's
thought that there are trigger points in the feet that will start
labor), or whatever you've heard that will get labor to start. Mine was
pressure changes that come with storms and new or full moon. So, of course, when I saw thunderstorms and a new moon together one week I was thinking, yes this is it! He's going to come
on one of those days. And of course the rain and storming comes and nothing
changes other than having to pee three times that night instead of two.
Even
though deep down I knew that it was really just wishful thinking that
he would come because of the rain or a new moon, it was still
disappointing to think I knew something and find out that I was
wrong.
I think this really hits me hardest because I used think I
had a 6th sense about knowing things. That is until I got pregnant. I was
totally convinced through the entire first half of my pregnancy that I
was having a girl. Totally convinced, despite the fact that the majority
of babies born in my husband's side of the family were boys, no way,
it's a girl.
I know.
I didn't know.
I was wrong, it's a boy.
I
spent the next few hours bawling my eyes out. It wasn't that I didn't
want a boy, it was that I had been wrong. I didn't have a 6th sense
knowing things anymore. I was totally wrong, obviously I had a 50/50
chance so it wasn't like picking winning lottery numbers but when you're
pregnant you think, I'm a mom, I know things. No, not yet you don't. Or
I thought because I was always so in-tune with my body that I would
know what sex the baby was. WRONG. I freely admitted to the world that I
was wrong and my husband was right. Which really, he's right about most
things, so in a way it worked out because I learned to trust him more.
However, it was still very disheartening.
Now that the pregnancy
is nearing the end I'm hopeful about knowing what's going on once more, but what's the
point? No one I know has said, oh he's coming on this day, or I'm hoping
he's coming on this day and been right, so why should I be the first
one?
My cousin had her baby 6 months before I was due
and I asked her how she made it through this last month. Her advice,
stay busy. I knew she was right, but damnit I don't want to! I want to
be in labor I want to be busy with that! Why bother planning things?! My
baby is coming! Yeah, he could come tomorrow and he could come in two
weeks. So settle in, pop Plants Vs. Zombies: Garden Warefare in the Xbox and chill out. May as well settle in while I wait.
