Getting anxious waiting for baby
Originally published Oct. 22, 2017, in the Times Herald-Record of Middletown, N.Y.
“We’ll see you next week. Unless something happens. Then call us.”
That’s it. The midwife smiles, opens the door and you’re back out into the wide open. And you start talking about what “something happens” could be.
In movies, the water breaks, like Kaaterskill Falls, and Mom is whisked away to the car. Dad nearly forgets the bag. Dad steps on the gas and encounters some obstacle while driving 90 mph to the hospital. Dad is typically the worried one. Then to the hospital where, within seconds, Mom is wheeled to the delivery room. There’s screaming, pushing, a passed-out Dad and, very quickly, a crying baby appears and everyone is smiling.
That’s the most ridiculous scenario.
A more plausible scenario is Sarah waking up to tell me she’s feeling some contractions. Or, if the water breaks, it’s more of a small realization: “Oh! I think this is the water breaking,” not, “Get the mop.”
Other things could happen. Like nothing. Like we wait for days, for weeks, and the baby doesn’t want to enter the world. And honestly, I can’t pin any blame if the baby wants to wait until Nov. 9.
Ironically, that’s when the hospital starts discussing inducing labor. At least I’ve had gin to get me through this election; Sarah has to wait until the day after for drugs.
But that’s if nothing happens, and we don’t want nothing to happen, even if nothing happens to a lot of women. We’re hoping it happens soon, maybe next week, around the weekend, just in time for Sarah’s mom to fly in from Texas and spend time with us in the hospital. And that would be convenient.
Babies are convenient, right?
So we’re waiting. A bag is packed. A nursery rests quietly.
A seat is now installed in the back of the car, the very car I bought five years ago and wore out over more than 130,000 miles. It’s been to Colorado and back, to Canada thrice, to the Great Smoky Mountains, Acadia National Park, the Beltway, the City of Brotherly Love, Beantown and places in between countless times. And now it’s getting a car seat. If cars could talk, mine would be screaming “Enough!”
Sarah spends her days working from the couch. She’s bored, so we bought a 1,000-piece puzzle to waste away the minutes as the baby kicks and squirms, teasing us because Mom and Dad are ready, but nah, not yet.
We’re now convinced the baby won’t come until after our due date.
Which would be fine.
Two weeks ago, I asked people for their baby tips, and thank you to those who contributed. One tip — from Stacy Ricci, mother of a 3-month-old — will continue to resonate.
“Live in the moment,” wrote Ricci. “Everyone says how fast it goes, and yes it’s cliché, but it’s so true. It goes insanely fast. The beginning is a blur and then it’s pure bliss. It’s the best thing ever once you find your groove.”
That’s about what happens after the baby arrives, but it can just as well be applied to right now. Life is about to change for good. I need to remember these final moments, because this is happening, convenient or not.
