The Waiting Game

Have you ever felt like a watched pot? You think you're ready to boil, everyone around you thinks you're ready to boil, but for whatever reason...no action. I'm starting to feel like a bomb. Everyone eyes me nervously, gasping at every cringe on my face. Every bubble of gas and muscle spasm is greeted with expecting glances and questioning stares. Is this it? Does she need to go the hospital? Do we need to boil water and rip towels into strips like they do on TV? There is even a bet taking place on when I will pop. While I suppose all this attention should be flattering, it's enough to make even the most patient of people a little irritable - not to mention what it does to a woman jacked up on hormones, filled to her eyeballs with a kicking baby, and plagued with heartburn so bad no amount of Tums or Mylanta can provide relief. To say the least I'm a bit edgy. It's really too bad that I have to wait until I'm in labor to get medicinal assistance. It would be nice to spend this time of waiting, anxiety and painful contractions that never seem to go anywhere in a state of loopy bliss.

I'm four centimeters dilated and having contractions every twenty minutes or so. It shouldn't be long now. One would think. However, this has been going on for a few weeks now. After giving birth several times before, this process should move along a little more quickly. Alas, not so. Waiting isn't so very difficult. There's always something to do in a busy house with toddlers and the days pass quickly enough.

This situation is not without its own serving of drama, though. Maryland is expecting its biggest snow in nearly a hundred years this coming weekend. The forecast is calling for FEET of snow (possibly close to 3). So, if I go into labor in the next day or so, there will be the added adventure of digging out of a mountain of snow to make it to the hospital. No biggie, I shrug. We have an SUV. All is not lost. And on the bright side, having a baby in a blizzard will be an entertaining story to tell. However, I have been without sugar and junk food for nearly ten weeks (I have big babies). I have been fantasizing for some time now about the post-delivery meal: A bacon cheeseburger and (more importantly) a cookies and cream milkshake from Chick-Fil-A. Should I go into labor tomorrow, in the midst of the blizzard, these establishments will most likely be closed, crushing the dietary dreams of a woman too long deprived of processed foods. If I go into labor on Sunday, the roads may be cleared, but Chick-Fil-A will still be closed, mocking me.

So, I wait, like everyone else, wondering when the gas bubbles will give way to active labor. Anticipating the Big Event with bated breath and the thrill of the unknown. I tell myself that this time (even with its constipation and hemmorhoids) is actually the easy part. The hard part will come AFTER the baby is born and I have to figure out how to care for three boys at once. They'll outnumber me. Someone (I know from experience) will always be crying. And just as a bonus in the first three months, I get to do all of this on five or less broken hours of sleep a night. Did I mention that I also homeschool? Nevertheless, I still find myself excited about my new arrival. I can't wait to see his little face and hold him in my arms. And, sigh, the new baby smell. Nothing beats that. So, even though I know it will be hard I find myself excited for the challenge. Within the deafening noise there is joy and laughter. For every day that I think I'm not qualified for this job, there are moments that take my breath away: when The Bug snuggles next to me and says, "I love you, Mommy" or when The Bear comes to me and says "Kiss." These moments make everything else worthwhile. Even being watched liked the proverbial pot.