By the time most of you read this, I will be holding my new son.
After what my doctor calls a "bizarre" pregnancy (and that's a medical term, you know!), when there have been all sorts of strange occurrences but no firm diagnosis as to why any of it was happening, and ultrasounds that indicate another large child with another large head, we agreed that an induction about ten days in advance of my due date would be a reasonable thing. That day is tomorrow.
I'm actually surprised I've made it as far as this induction date with all the interesting things that my body has been doing in the last several days! (I haven't made it there yet, though�and just this evening my neighbor cursed me by saying, "I bet you go in at 3 AM.") Almost two weeks ago I was already 75% effaced, one centimeter plus dilated and Sprout's head was at -1.
And I don't quite know how to approach this last journal entry.
The last few days have been such a mishmash of feelings. Today has been as well.
My last day at the office was Friday, and it was such a relief to walk out of there. I knew that office politics would be distant at least for a while, and I didn't need to worry about the commute or looking presentable for probably longer. But I am leaving a project unfinished that I would have liked to have seen to its conclusion (it's almost there), and I'll miss some of my office buddies.
We've been busy at times this weekend with last minute preparations and other activities. But we've also had quiet time. I had a little time to myself, some quiet time with my husband, and some special time with my son. We've had fun time all together. It's been a little odd, though, really knowing that next week at this time, there will be four of us, not three.
We've been talking a lot. My husband is excited and nervous, too. Nervous for the discomfort that I will necessarily endure in the process of birthing this child. Excited, of course, to learn about who we created this time.
Our son, I think, is relieved that the time is at hand. Patience and the passage of time can be hard when you are three. I think he'll have some tough moments, of course, but overall he can't wait to meet his brother. Just tonight he wanted to save some of his apple to share with his new brother.
I've alternated between really excited that this light at the end of the tunnel is so bright and so near, and terrified that the light at the end of the tunnel is so bright and so near.
Today - my last full day as the mother of one ex-utero child - was a nice opportunity to take care of the last few details in a fairly relaxed manner. All my planning and lists, about which a number of people poke fun at me, mean that what was left to do was really minimal. Wash a couple of crib sheets, pick out a few CDs to take with us. So I also had time to space out on the couch a little, make some Halloween cookies for Aaron, think about what Aaron was like as a newborn and wonder what this one will be like.
I did have one bout of panic this afternoon. Although I have done it before, I started to get very afraid about my ability to actually push this child into a world. Something relatively large moving through a relatively small orifice. Then I started to remember the back labor I had with Aaron. I suddenly felt like this whole scenario simply was not possible. There is no way I could do it. So maybe I won't?
Of course that isn't an option. Soon enough the panic subsided. This will happen. I will be able to deliver this little boy safely into the world. I trust the people who will be around me to help me and I put not just a little bit of faith in millions of years of evolution. As well as a higher power.
Tomorrow I will meet my son. The culmination of over a year of trying to
get pregnant, then hoping I stayed pregnant, then safely gestating a
bunch of cells growing into a new unique person. It's almost too much to
think about all at once, but here I sit trying. I am overwhelmed with
emotions, yet also calmed to know that we have made it this far. I have
a certain trust that everything will be okay now. After the uncertainly
that this pregnancy presented, it is almost relief.
We made it. We did it. The future is here and now. It is happening before our eyes as we welcome this child into the world, into the fullness of our lives. Into all the joys and challenges that this world offers. Into the love we have overflowing for him.
I can't wait to meet him.
If only we could figure out what to name him.