The Waiting Game

Nothing prepared me for this part. But really, nothing prepares you quite fully for any part of pregnancy, the same way few things prepare you for labor or delivery or actually being a parent. I know so little about those upcoming parts I won't even assume to say so, because in some ways, experience is everything and every experience is different. So when you've not even had it in the first place, well... good luck assuming. 

I'm in such a unique stage of the story right now, one that feels like it should be more like those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books I loved as a kid where I, as the reader/protagonist decided what happened next and thus skipped to the corresponding page. But that doesn't happen. No matter how many minutes a day I spend walking or willing my body into submission, it is so far beyond out of my hands. Unless I decided to take it into my hands by scheduling this, but I won't, at least not yet.

And I realize we aren't the only ones. There are grandparents, great grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and even a great, great grandparent who are all waiting, too. But I guess, in a way, the beauty in their versions of waiting is having their own lives to preoccupy themselves in that waiting. Me? This is my whole life. This is my everyday. This is my wake-up-and-get-out-of-bed-until-I-get-back-in-at-night living and breathing existence. Waiting. And at times, pondering causes and effects and everything in between. A movement here, a pressure there,  a stream of "what if my water broke right now as I bend down to pick up ___________ ?" thoughts.

If I'm honest, I often feel, especially as the days draw closer to her due date, like I'm the the thing that's "in the way." That if something were different or more right with me, she would be here by now or at least by her due date. And while I have four days hanging out between then and now, nothing is a movin' or a shakin' in a way that leads me to believe it's happening soon. But everyone wants it to and makes that very-well known. And I can't blame them. Or myself. We are excited, after all. But it's challenging to be the bearer of something so in-demand by so many people. No one intends to make it challenging, and I'd rather have a world of people who care than people who don't. So please, don't get me wrong. 

It's just my own personal lifetime struggle (thus far) with expectations and failure and guilt and shame. I interpret so much of my worldview through that lens, that sometimes even the (most likely) well-meaning comment or question from someone feels like a mark against myself. Just when I think I've mastered some aspect of my character in this journey, there comes a bit more heat to help refine. And I want to be so badly... that is, better-able to handle this part - even if it's four days or another two weeks. I want every bit of what is left to glean from what God can do in this process, so maybe that's why I'm not done yet. Or she's not done yet. And so, we wait.