Well, February is here finally. Isla is expected on February 11th but every prenatal class and workshop I have taken tells me the ‘Due Date’ is more of a ‘Guess Date’, with only around 5% of babies born actually showing up when they’re ‘supposed’ to. Not the easiest pill to swallow with something as huge as childbirth looming on the horizon.
The thought that she may make her appearance tomorrow is daunting, as is the thought that she may stay put for another three weeks. Not knowing precisely when she’ll arrive is slowly gnawing away at me. I dream of a natural unmedicated birth, at the hospital, with my husband and midwife by my side. Our hospital bag is packed, and our carseat is installed. Our freezer is stocked with easy-to-prep meals, and I’m officially off work waiting for Isla to arrive. Drumming my fingers for an unknown ‘someday’ in the near future, an unknown pain ahead of me, and an unknown person to become part of my family on the horizon. I am as prepared as I can be, yet I feel so unbelievably unprepared.
Besides the unknown ‘when’ of her arrival, there is absolutely no way to know how she’ll get here. I’ve heard far too many horror stories and a fair handful of dreams of women’s experiences with labor and delivery, and although I have a hope for a certain type of birth, the how, and the when, still elude me.
My peace lies in the fact that she will get here, and my life will change. And although I have no choice in the matter, I can’t wait.