The waiting game

I remembered this part being awful.

I just forgot how awful.

I never experienced the wait with Aiden.  I went to the doctor Friday morning, 37 weeks, where he told me, starting today, I am officially at term and they won't attempt to stop my labor.  That night, with friends in the living room, my water broke while cleaning the kitchen and we were off to the hospital, full of naive excitement.

We expected the same with Finn, but 10 days after my due date the induction I dreaded was written in on the hospital calendar.  At the very last minute Finn decided to come on his own and was born 30 minutes before my appointment.

Now I wait again.  Wondering and hoping and fearing.

I know in my head that a due date is just an estimate, and I certainly realize that my first coming early means nothing for subsequent labors.  Still, when 37 weeks hit I rushed around like a mad woman, packing bags and scrubbing showers and hunting down dust mites.

And then I sat down and waited.  Well, as much as I can with two kids who still need fed and bathed and loved.  Nearly two weeks later the dust has returned and my hospital bag sits open at the door, where I regularly exchange items I hoped I wouldn't need again.

At this point I am still over a week from my due date.  And I told myself time and again not to expect anything, but like the silly, hormonal, pregnant woman I am, I did anyhow.

It's mostly the not knowing that gets to me.  The not knowing what to tell my kids when they want to know when the baby is coming.  The not knowing when I put them to bed at night if I will be there to greet them in the morning (and by greet I mean rolling over in bed and grumbling for them to go downstairs).  The not knowing if this is my last trip to the grocery store, or what will happen if I'm alone with Finn in the city, or will this labor be faster than my last, and if so, what are the chances I have this baby in the car (I'm hoping by writing that one down I have significantly negated the possibility of its happening).

I guess it's just called worry, nothing new or significant really.

I could think of a million different scenarios of what could possibly happen, particularly in a foreign country with a 30-minute drive to the hospital.

Or I could trust... and wait... and then wait some more.