The infinite wait for life

to end and to begin

Dear friends and readers,

As I entered my maternity leave, I had this idyllic plan in which I gave myself two to three really productive weeks and then I would have patiently awaited the arrival of our little one, using the time given to me in a wise and experienced way. After all, I had been craving some time away from work and duties for the whole length of the third trimester. I could have sworn I had a carefully engineered list of things I would do once work had stopped, but I managed to lose any memory of it as soon as I hit pause. I am not new to this feeling of craving something different, only to then be faced with the reality that, even given the time or choice, I would have still chosen to either do the same thing, or nothing at all. I recall perfectly my fourteen-year-old self trying to find an inch of willingness to get up and do one of the many wish-list experiences I had promised myself I was going to do once the strenuous and exhausting school year was over. Too bad it always ended up with me lying horizontal on the cool tiles of the living room floor binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy until the evening time, when it was a respectable and bearable hour to go out and meet your friends. Anything before 8 P.M. would have been considered too much, due to the hot weather or just simply the lack of eagerness from others to hang before that time. Or were they simply way more organised than I was and made far nicer plans without me? During the day, my best friends’ chatters were replaced by the constant noises of the rattly loud fan, the turned-up television and my incessant thoughts on how bored I was. Just as predicted by Arthur Schopenhauer a few months earlier in my philosophy exam at school, there I was, oscillating between pain and boredom. The painful longing of wanting to have free time and the boredom that came after having achieved such a feature.

Fittingly, I think I find myself in this exact same position right now, only this time, my limbo is not between one school year and the next, but due to a major cosmic shift directed my way.

After my meal-prepping tour de force and my desperate need for nesting that resulted in scrubbing down every inch of baby gear, I have now landed in the territory of WAITING. That space between action and action that feels incredibly good at first and then turns into a dull blur of nothingness. It leaves me wondering whether I could do more? Or should do less? Or should distract myself from all of it? Many mothers have tried to help me by suggesting things to do. Yet none of these answers seem to be able to quell the existential dread that my life, as I have known it for the last 32 years, is about to be flipped upside down and never return to the same. Equally none of the things I have been told seem to help me relish the time that I have left as a human with an average of 8 hours’ sleep at night, as a woman in a childless couple, as a person with non-leaky boobs, as a singleton with little to worry about. Everything these days just seems to be adding pressure to this long-awaited birth. I had an incredibly smooth pregnancy so it just flew by and now that everything seems to have gone really well and baby is as healthy as it can be, I realise how gruelling and ridiculous it is for mums-to-be like me to be just going on about our day-to-day business, waiting for baby to decide when to send me into labour. It isn’t a preferred choice of mine, but I’m starting to understand why some of us may choose a planned delivery. It takes the guesswork away. You can put a date in the calendar and know that you will be seeing your beautiful squishy baby on that day. Everyone knows that D-Day is coming. The troops rally up and the enemy is defeated. (In this case the family and friends rally up and the pain is defeated by epidural and surgical mastery.)

But I am stubborn, and a little old fashioned and I believe in my body being capable of coming to its process naturally, and so my preferred choice has always been a natural delivery. Yet lately I have realised that it hasn’t been a smooth choice. For someone like me who is anxiety-ridden and adrenaline-addicted, it has been quite the challenge to find what to do with my spare time that doesn’t involve either letting my head run wild to all possible worst case scenarios, or filling my time with adrenaline inducing activities that either knock my body tired or eliminate any possible level of oxytocin left in my body. For those who are not very clued-up on adrenaline and oxytocin, basically imagine a wild woman in a cave, ready to give birth. If she senses a threat, their adrenaline level spikes up and makes them want to fight or flight, slowing down the birthing process. Oxytocin is the hormone in charge and apparently and apparently, it is the one running the show for my cervix at this moment in time…oxytocin and adrenaline sort of cancel each other out.

One of the many things that has crossed my mind in this everlasting purgatory of a phase is that I would like to retrieve myself from society. Sit in a dark room, phone off, listening to relaxing music whilst my oil diffuser pumps out ‘happy vibes’ scents. Only this last month could not have been filled with any more significant and important events.

Firstly, we got the keys to our first owned house. Yes, literally last Friday. We couldn’t have timed this any worse if we tried. My dad laughed at me and told me that this is exactly how life works, nothing on the horizon for years and then everything happening all at once. So here we are renovating some bits of the home whilst also juggling work (for Leon) and nine months’ watermelon-sized belly-related symptoms (for me).

Secondly, half of our family is currently in Greece to witness the incredible fairy tale wedding of Leon’s mum. Again, we couldn’t have timed this baby arrival any worse if we tried. (And we actually really didn't, it was certainly the biggest surprise of our life).

Thirdly, not lastly! This could be my last birthday

A: as a non-mum!

B: as my birthday only!

Because yes, tomorrow I turn 32 and there is still a chance I will spend it in a labour ward or preferably in a birth pool, pushing my baby out and therefore making myself one of those cursed parents who will never have a birthday for themselves again. (I’m being overly dramatical, I am obviously going to be very ok if this happens).

Furthermore, in sadder news, we may have a member of our family departing this earth to rejoin the ethereal space.

Lastly, due to some obscene rule at my mum’s workplace, she is only able to take some holidays and come and visit us from Italy this week - baby or not. So I am obviously very torn between wanting to spend time with her and also needing space to digest, feel and sit with myself.

So, how do I exactly remove myself from society and go into a metaphorical cave waiting for baby? It just feels like a lot to ignore. And so I just plough on, day by day, night by night. The pendulum swinging violently between expectancy and boredom. Between excitement and fear. Between life now and life later.

In all of this, I must give thanks to the people who are close to me. Our families are incredibly understanding and even more incredible is my partner Leon who is taking quite a bit of physical and metaphorical load for me. And I must not forget that my struggles, what I see as sticky points, are things lot of people may perceive as blessings. If I look past the discomfort of things happening all at once, and the biggest unknown of expecting baby without any hint or notice, I can evidently see a lot of love, care, safety and abundance surrounding us, surrounding me. I cherish this warm feeling and I am grateful that I get to experience this in its entirety. With the good and the bad, the highs and the lows.

Inspired by a friend of mine who is also due around this time, here’s a list of things I look forward to doing once baby is out:

1 – drinking some beer
2 – eating a lot of raw sushi
3 – being able to hold my wee for longer than 30 minutes
4 – regaining the ability to put shoes on without having to ask for help
5 – sleeping without the 12-foot-long pregnancy pillow taking most of the bed space - although this may just turn into not sleeping at all (?)
6 – wearing trousers
7 – climbing slabs without feeling like I have a watermelon attached to my front
8 – painting the new house
9 – talking about something different than pregnancy (will it just shift to motherhood?)
10 – going back to training (in due time)

As always, thanks for reading, and feel free to leave a comment or share this post if you found it interesting.

As always, thanks for reading and feel free to leave a comment or share this post if you have found it interesting.