Waiting for the Birth

This past Monday, my sweetie started having contractions. We very calmly went to the hospital, only to be told after two hours of monitoring that the labor wasn't progressing and to head back home. That was three days ago. She's still having contractions. We're still waiting.

I'm an elementary school teacher, which means that right now, I'm on vacation. It also means that I've been at home for the past 3 weeks, helping prepare the apartment for our impending arrival. At this point, all of the prep work has been done. The crib is built and mattressed, the car seats are installed, the baby monitor is plugged in, all loose wiring is secure, the changing table is positioned by the crib, even the diaper pail is bagged and ready.

All we need now is the baby.

We don't want to induce, certainly not with the due date still a few days away. Maybe if the baby overshoots the due date by a week, sure. Right now, though, it's way too early. Still, those contractions are driving me to distraction. I know, I know, my sweetie feels them more than I do. And she does. Yet, she's taking this much more calmly than I am.

Right now, she's splitting her time between very light exercise and reading. I'm burning off my nervous energy blogging. I've become very impatient. I want my kid now!

My sweetie has taken to exercising in the apartment partly because it's insanely hot outdoors right now and partly to help speed labor along. We spent part of this afternoon online looking up various ways to progress labor without resorting to medication. There aren't many options.

Some of the stranger ones include the consumption of castor oil - apparently suggested by well-meaning Little Rascals fans unaware that a woman does not in fact excrete her baby - and eating spicy foods.

The one that made the most sense, actually the one that made the only sense, was light exercise. Walking is the simplest and most cost-effective. Lace up your shoes and step outside. Or, if your summer's been as hot as ours, stay indoors and pace back and forth with the TV or radio on for company.

Stair-climbing is another option, assuming you don't push yourself too hard and are in reasonably good shape.

Swimming would be my choice - it takes pressure off the joints while still providing a moderate cardiovascular workout - but my sweetie wanted to stay out of the 105 degree heat index presently outside our window. I can't say I blame her.

So she's walking back and forth, resting, doing a few squats. Me? I'm just sitting here. Waiting.

In more restrained moments, I realize that in a month or two, I'll have moments when I want to send the kid back. I know this. I accept it. I still want my kid now.

I want to know what the baby will look like, feel like, sound like. I want to know if it's a boy or girl.

I want to show my child what the outside world is like, what's waiting, what having two sets of doting grandparents is like.

I want to share my passion for writing, reading, travel, and games with my child. I want to share all those little moments of discovery: how to walk, how to pile blocks, how to speak, which parent is mama and which one is usually confused.

I'll have those moments, and countless others besides. I know this. I do. I'll have more moments than I'll know what to do with.

There's just one small problem. I want to start now.