Ten days past my estimated due date I’ve been waiting on this little person to make his or her appearance! Perhaps I should say, “ten days so far…” because there is really no telling as to exactly when my body and baby will decide together that “this is the day”.
It’s been hard. It’s been funny. Exhausting. Maddening. Perplexing. Interesting.
I’ve walked, eaten eggplant parmesan, jumped on our mini trampoline, and done other things to try to gently encourage my body to kick into gear. And still I wait.
We spent today stomping around the zoo…
As of now I’m content (as much as possible) in waiting. A few days ago it wasn’t so. I was anxious and frustrated. Long story short, I had lost confidence in my body’s ability to do what it’s gotten quite good at doing: birthing babies. There was a lot of “what am I doing wrong or not doing right that’s making this take so long?” rattling around in my thoughts. Thankfully, on the day this had reached a fever pitch, I had an appointment with one of my midwives, and in her own beautiful, calming way, she dusted off the battered confidence I dropped on the floor in front of her and handed it back to me fully restored and blooming.
(Side note: Please, if you’re ever going to have a baby, find a care provider who will do this for you! Our exchange was invaluable to me.)
I feel myself again. The one who loves labor and birth (and babies!). The one who trusts God, my body, and my baby to pick the perfect birth-day. And still I wait. Hoping that tomorrow will be THE day, but confident regardless of Day 11’s outcome. Baby and I are healthy and happy, and I know we’ll meet on the outside soon.