Tomorrow is my given due date. I say given because it is pretty much a stab in the dark and frankly, I trust my charting skills more than the NHS. However, either way, I feel certain that Ezra is fully baked. Every day and night feel kind of exciting, kind of frustrating. I feel myself want to get every little thing I can think of ‘ready’, which is, I’m sure, a way of trying to ready myself too.
If the sheets are ready, and the garden fences painted and the quilt done, then he can come out.
And yet I also feel at that stage where I’m making quite childish proclamations of, ‘Why won’t he come out?’ And, ‘Everyone else has had their baby! Where’s mine?’
In particular, the evenings are where I feel frustrated and impatient and quite hormonal. Ava has become so used to talking about ‘Mummy’s big tummy’ that I wonder if it will take her by shock when Ezra appears, a real little person that we’ve been inventing for her for months.
So the days pass, and I know I am not yet technically overdue, but I have felt as if I might have Ezra at any point for about 3 weeks now, so I feel positively ready to go. And at the same time, the thought of actually going into labour at any moment is quite nerve-wracking, quite exhilerating. I am trying to pay close attention to my body, to the signs that show things are moving along, and there are plenty of those, but every time I think I might have gone into labour it has been, so far, just a practice contraction or strange little twinge I can’t identify.
Really, given Ava’s ‘late’ arrival, I should have perhaps been more invested in the idea that Ezra too might like to stay in for a little longer. And why not? After all, it’s been 40 weeks, what is one or two more? And yet. And yet! It’s been 40 weeks…and although that has passed so much quicker this time around, it has still been 40 weeks, and now I feel like I am here and that someone should be ringing bells and that Ezra should just come, right now, because I’d like him to.
Within all these pregnancy and birthing rhythms come small but significant lessons, I believe. What we go through whilst we are pregnant, then when we birth, then we get used to the new life we care for, is the chance to come to terms with an entirely new pace of life, a new tempo that comes from such a huge transformation.
Always, there is the lesson to be more patient. To let things be, as they are, without interfering. Without trying to control, and determine, and predict. Just to be, present and mindful.
Always there is the sense of an underlying beat which is in constant flux. More often than not, the lesson there is to slow down and let the little things count. Stop focusing so much on the goal, but on the process itself.
And the necessity, the challenge of someone being the centre of your focus, understanding what it means to meet those needs without disregarding your own, to trust yourself to move forward and to find a new way, constantly adapting to the new and unexpected demands of each phase.
Like the quilt I’m working on for Ezra, his half-done knitted leggings, or gifts for friends that remain in a nearly-finished state, I am reminded that there is rarely a rush and that in fact what can be so enjoyable is taking things on one stitch at a time, one little bit here and there.
So this weekend our plans are to keep painting the garden fence and shed, to keep making Ezra’s quilt, to do a little more sorting and a little more organising. Tomorrow we are heading into town to have a Pizza Express lunch, since that is what we did on Ava’s due date two and a half years ago (except this time Ava will of course be with us, demanding dough balls or juice or something or other) and we will keep on going this way until Ezra decides he is ready. I do hope it’s soon.