waiting for labor to start is like waiting for Christmas morning when you’re 10 years old and think that this might be the year you finally get the ________ you’ve been dying for (you can fill in the blank. mine was a pony. which i did get. i was a bit of a princess. i already know, you don’t have to tell me. yours might have been a barbie dream house or a bb gun or a rosebud or whatever.)…anyway…you get the idea. i’m super excited and anxious and can’t sleep and just want it to BE HERE ALREADY.
but it’s also like preparing to run a marathon. which you are ready for and have been working toward but are also dreading because you know it’s gonna hurt like hell and you’ll want to give up half way through and some jerk 70 year old man is going to be lapping you as you struggle along (well, maybe not that one). there will be sweat and blood and tears. and perhaps a blister or two. and you will be wrung out and sore for ages afterwards. but, in this case, you can’t even put a smarmy bumper sticker on your car declaring that you are one of the elite few who have finished a 26.2 mile race, because, you know, kabillions of people have given birth before you. sigh.
AND both this excitement and little bit of dread is not set for a predetermined date, but rather this unknown apocryphal moment will land sometime between the next 12 hrs and 3 weeks.
i am not so good at this waiting patiently thing. not so good at all.