Wednesday, March 6, 2013


It's a strange feeling waiting for a baby to be born.  I remember it vividly leading up to both Lilly and Jack's arrivals--each for different reasons.  And now, I'm in the waiting zone again.  Except this time, it's not a quiet sitting and waiting like it was the week before Lilly was born.  It's more of a I'm-exhausted-and-feel-huge-and-have-a-baby-that-moves-nonstop-and-a-3-year-old-that-talks-nonstop-and-an-almost-17-month-old-that-is-a-toddler-in-every-sense-of-the-word kind of waiting.  I have kind, generous friends who offer to look after Lilly and Jack on a daily basis and who are more than willing to come over should we need them in the night before Mum & Dad arrive on Friday evening.  They chase Jack around whenever we get together so that I don't have to.  I have a wonderful husband who understands me when over the course of the morning, I burst into tears for no apparent reason and then a few minutes later, marvel at the thought of having a newborn in the house again.  Pregnancy--specifically, the end of pregnancy--is unpredictable.

I have no control over when this little one arrives, although things like snow in the forecast for the next three days don't help what is already an anxious time.  As I said leading up to Jack's arrival, the feeling is similar to the anticipation leading up to an Ironman, but without a definite start time.  I've done everything I can to prepare and I'm ready to get going.  I'd like to insert a sidenote here before any male members of my family take this out of context, as they so often tend to do: childbirth is much harder than an Ironman.  I've done both and can testify to this.  Any male who thinks otherwise needs to give birth before his argument is credible.

Up until two days ago, if you had asked me how I was feeling, I would have said that I felt far too comfortable to be this close to having a baby.  Now, the tide has turned.  I'm 5 days away from my due date and officially uncomfortable.  Every time this baby moves, I don't know whether it's just uncomfortable or whether I'm going into labor.  I figure it out pretty quickly, as I know the labor feeling all too well, and so far, it's just been discomfort.  I know whenever it happens, things will work out, but this time I have two little people who need to be looked after while I'm in hospital, which adds another whole dimension to this baby's arrival.

I'm tired at the end of every day, but as soon as I go to bed, my head starts running through the the neverending list of things to do and unanswered questions.

Will we make it from Fairfield to Greenwich Hospital in time?  What if I go into labor during rush hour?  Given my past labors, I don't really have a lot of time to spare.  How will this baby change the dynamic of our family?  I can't wait to have a newborn to cuddle again.  How will Jack, who is still such a baby, react when an even tinier baby enters our house?  How will I get anything done with three little ones to look after?

I know that these questions will answer themselves, but as much as I tell myself to relax and take a deep breath and just let things unfold, I can't stop wondering.  Just as life transitioned nicely from our family of three to our family of four, I know in the back of my mind that this too will work out, but can't for the life of me, picture exactly how.  I'm very much looking forward to Mum and Dad's arrival on Friday evening.  The extra hands will be amazing.  The peace of mind, knowing that we can go to the hospital at any time, will be reassuring.  And having family here --just as they were leading up to Jack's arrival--is a welcome distraction.  As long as this baby waits until the weekend to make his or her arrival, we'll be good to go.  Given that this is a third child, however, I'm not holding my breath.  I see a snow storm or rush hour delivery in my future...  


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