OK, so I borrowed the title of this blog from a Tom Petty song, but when you’re just sitting at home, on maternity leave, waiting for the “big event” to happen…those lyrics just ring too true not to use. The waiting is the hardest part. And that’s saying something, especially since I’ve gotten to the point in my pregnancy that I almost need a crane to lift myself out of bed in the morning and duct tape to keep my pants from falling down. I have to endure the multitude of “you’re still pregnant?!!” comments when picking my other two kids up from school each day, and, well, the other unpleasant bits that are part of the bargain when growing a human inside you.
Despite all of the aforementioned issues, I have really enjoyed this pregnancy, especially this third trimester. Maybe that’s because I know it will (knocking very loudly on my wooden desk right now) be my last. There’s something bittersweet about it. But also, it’s likely because I’ve just felt, overall, much better physically than with my previous two pregnancies. And I’m considered to be of “advanced maternal age,” so that’s really saying something.
So, for me, the waiting is excruciating. Even for moms like me who have been there and done that (BTDT moms, in BabyCenter lingo), the experience of having gone through labor and delivery previously doesn’t really prepare you for what lies ahead. Unless you’ve got a scheduled c-section planned—which I don’t— there’s no way of telling when exactly this little bundle will come out to join the world. And for a planner like myself, that’s soooo incredibly hard to deal with. Not only is it hard to not know when the big show is going to begin, but it’s the how that also has my granny-sized panties in a twist. Will my water break first? If so, where will I be when it does? Will it hurt as much as last time, or more so? Will I be able to handle it? How big will this baby be, exactly? Will she be healthy?
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