It’s official. We’re all set to have a baby at home at 37 weeks, and I am 37 weeks today. My midwife just returned from a long trip, and I have a prenatal tomorrow. Then she’s gone for the weekend. So the baby needs to wait until Monday in order to avoid the backup midwife (who is nice and was one of our midwives during Ellery’s pregnancy, but still).
It’s weird. This is the first pregnancy that I’ve gotten this far and not been anxious to get the baby out. At this point in Maya’s pregnancy, she was nearly two weeks old! So I didn’t get to that too-pregnant stage. But for Ellery and Asher’s pregnancies, I was soooooo ready to have the baby out. So ready.
Physically, I could be done any time. The end of pregnancy is uncomfortable, no matter who you are or how zen you are. It just is. My back hurts, I’m huge, I have to pee all the time, none of my shirts cover my belly, etc. etc. etc. But even physically, I’m not feeling totally fed up this time. If you told me I’d still be pregnant on my due date, I’m pretty sure I could deal and roll with the punches. Sounds okay to me. I’m enjoying this little guy inside, and trying to embrace the pregnancy for what it is: not over yet.
Mostly, all of this lack-of-anxiousness is due to the fact that I’m not ready. (Hear that, Baby? I’m not ready!) I didn’t realize how much Christmas would combine with baby prep to make me feel completely behind. I have so much I want to get done before Christmas, so the baby stuff has been put off. (Our birth kit is nearly complete, but not totally. The teeny-tiny master bedroom is a complete disaster, full of Christmas gifts, laundry in various stages of clean and unclean, hand-me-downs that need to be sorted through, etc.) I love to craft for Christmas, and I love to enjoy the anticipation of Advent. And I can’t do that if I’m cleaning my bedroom and washing baby clothes; there’s just no time for both. I’m spending every spare moment (*ha!*) knitting, and I need to do some serious sewing, too. So I’m begging and praying for the baby to come when I’ve always thought he would: After Christmas. Closer to New Year’s Day. Then I can get the baby stuff done once Christmas is over.
Hey, I know I have absolutely no say in this decision. Only God and the baby know when this is all going to go down; I can only rely on experience, intuition, prayer, and good old-fashioned hoping. It’s just so weird for me to not be chomping at the bit to have the pregnancy over with. I’m actually happy to have a few more weeks of gestating.
I’ve never been due near Christmas, and I’m realizing how much it’s affecting me. In some respects, I’m really enjoying the parallels between my own life and Mary’s, and living in expectation of a baby at the same time we all anticipate Jesus together. It’s beautiful. But when it gets down to the nitty gritty, my to-do lists are triple what they were during other pregnancies, hence the desire to be pregnant a little longer. I’m overwhelmed and conflicted, as I so want to meet this guy.
Remember the saga at the end of Asher’s pregnancy? When I walked around for 8 days at 5 cm dilated, 75% effaced, and bag of waters bulging? I’m pretty sure I swore then that I wouldn’t get checked for dilation again, ever, because it never means a dang thing. For both of my last two pregnancies, I’ve been dilated considerably by 37 weeks, and against all odds, am still pregnant 1-3 weeks later. But guess what I’m going to have done tomorrow? An internal! Yes, I will be checked, because I like to know. It’s also helpful to know if my bag of waters is bulging or not, because I will know to not leave the house unless I have to in order to avoid having a baby at Target or something.
It’ll be interesting to see how things are going tomorrow. Despite all of my stress over the to-do list(s), I know that whenever the baby comes, I will be absolutely thrilled to meet him. Whatever doesn’t get done now will get done later.