Two weeks ago, we were completely ready for this baby. Our bag was packed, the furniture was ready, we had the birth plan in mind. We even expected it to come early, for unknown reasons. The days ticked by. Unexpectedly, we reached the due date - with no baby! Family called and wrote emails. No news, we were forced to say. Again. And, by the way, we love you, but leave us alone! We began to feel powerless.
Now, we are less ready than we were before. Our hospital bag is now only half packed, for I needed some of the things inside. Our hospital notes are on the TV, where I ambivalently left them after our hospital appointment last week. Family have stopped calling, texting and emailing. The idea of the baby being born now seems so surreal as to be impossible. I drink a little more wine with dinner than I did two weeks ago. We don't even consider the possibility of the birth interfering with plans we make, so we have begun to fill our social calendar again.
I was previously confident in the birth process, but now I wonder whether it will be as easy as I thought. Perhaps I've been having contractions and not realising it. Maybe I should analyse my physical changes more closely. While I know logically that it can't be my fault, somehow it feels like it might be. Maybe I should have been going to the gym like other more physically-focused mums to be - I could have shaken, drilled, or squeezed the creature out using one of the machines. Or coaxed it out with yoga. Or...
Small baby, please arrive! I'll even feed you in the middle of the night, and listen to your cries, and have no social life for weeks...
... oh, wait, remind me why I'm not content to wait a few more days?
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