It’s 4am. East coast time. A time where no one should be awake that doesn’t have a screaming baby or a screaming uterus. I have neither so far.
Because I’m tricky, you probably think I’m all zen about this whole birth thing now. You know, with that last touching baby letter that I wrote and everything. Don’t get me wrong, I meant it all. But am I totally surrendering to what could be in store for my vagina and/or my uterus? No. In fact, I’m currently at peak crazy. I’m considering holing up in my closet like a cat about to give birth. I think it would be best for everyone.
Let me take you through this week.
Wednesday: Find out that I’m effaced and not dilated. Act happy about this.
Thursday: Walk the mall. Twice. Make a deal with myself that I can not go into a store until this task is complete. Go into a store. Buy a sweater. Feel better about life and the world.
Friday: Cry. All day. Why why why? Waiting every morning for lots of poop. That’s what they tell me is the start. Think that “this is it” at every braxton hicks. It’s not. Curse out B in my head for not understanding anything ever. Drink 3 gallons of red raspberry leaf tea.
Saturday: Stare at the wall all day. Break out the ol’ hypnobabies (which I swore I’d never do again). Pretend to be more zen. Convince myself that my baby was waiting for me to be zen. REALLY try to be zen. Tell everyone how zen I am. Scream at people I’M SO ZEN YOU ASSHOLE.
Sunday: Go on a nature walk with G and B. Feel better for the first time in days. Don’t cry for the first time in days. Feel happy with my family and life. Maybe starting to feel zen? Acupressure the shit out of my feet and legs.
Monday: Go on a walk in the park alone. Sit by a tree. Talk to myself as I walk about the birth. Cry about nothing. Tell myself that “it’s ok if it isn’t perfect”. Meet up with my doula later who tells me “I’m the most zen she’s seen me” SEE I’M F-ING ZEN!
this is really from my walk. I took a picture to be all “this is my PATH”. I need my brain back.
Tuesday: Wake up crying. I’m zen, I should have had the baby. Have acupuncture with a white girl. She shoots electricity through the needles. Not really buying it. Wish she was Asian. Then find a lady bug in the bathroom. Convinced that it’s our baby with a message for us. Won’t let B kill it. This makes great sense to me.
just in case you thought I was kidding. xoxo bug.
Wednesday 3am: I’m awake. Telling my cervix to OPEN OPEN OPEN. I don’t think it’s listening. Can’t sleep. B is snoring. He doesn’t understand anything ever. Midwife appointment today. Time to overthink and stress about it. Time to beat myself up for stressing. Time to think “amanda this baby is not going to come if you keep stressing”. Stress about that thought. Eat cereal.
And here we are.
If there is a positive out of this situation, it’s that I’m convinced that all the interventions I did at home last time with my first pregnancy had zero shmero to do with my water breaking early. Because this baby is all PSH you’re not getting rid of me that easily.
This has been the most mentally challenging week of my life. That’s probably not true. But I’m saying it. I mean I am literally zoey zen at a damn tree in the woods one minute and regular brain freak Amanda the next minute sobbing into a bowl of nutella. I know that’s the story with pregnancy but this is certainly something my friends.
It’s sort of like when you are just starting to date that guy and you want him to call and you’re like “ok if I don’t stare at the phone, he’ll call” “and if I just act busy and blowdry my hair, he’ll call” “and then I have to just squeeze my voodoo doll with his face on it really tight and he’ll call”. You see what I’m saying. You’re brain gets wonked. You’ll do anything to create a scenario which you have no control over.
And that’s where I am. MODG vs Control. Where is Janet Jackson when you need her?
We have until Monday. Monday is my last day. How do I surrender to all of this? Birth is an experience that I’ve wanted to have my whole life. The kind of birth where you work hard and cry and scream and then it’s completely amazing and totally worth it because you are holding your baby and YOU DID IT. The kind of birth that doesn’t end in depression and scars.
But as the hippies tell me, all of this is to teach me something. And I need to be the willow in the wind (I mean can you get more hippie than that sentence?)
I find out today if I’m dilated and can have membranes swept. Life feels like it’s standing still.
Send me more nutella.