Pregnancy Diary: It is Hard to Wait

“It is hard to wait!” my daughter whines to me when I tell her she can have dessert when everyone finishes dinner. She is imploring. Exasperated. Uncomfortable.

I am 39 weeks pregnant and have thought three times in the past week that our baby was on her way—contractions in full effect falsely signaling to my mind, “It’s. Go. Time.”

I’m uncomfortable and exasperated. There has definitely been whining.

It is hard to wait.

Once again, I see myself in my daughter and whether or not I like it, the truth is undeniable—She is a mirror for me of my human-ness.

She is one of a few who makes me pause, reflect, and course-correct.

I am constantly course-correcting. This whole being “human” thing takes a lifetime to master, I hear.

“Be patient, she will come when she’s ready,” people tell me of my baby.

Telling a pregnant woman to be patient is like telling a toddler to be patient.

It is hard to wait.

“What is the lesson?” I keep asking myself.

Obviously I could work on patience and being even MORE comfortable with the uncomfortable, but what else? WHAT ELSE?

So I break it down for myself. What is it I want so badly that I’m not “getting,” really.

I want control over this situation. I want to know how the story ends. I want to skip this part and get on with it—get to the next part, the one where I’ve already delivered my baby naturally, have adjusted to life as a mother of 2 and feel like “myself” again.

Of course - control. order. skip the pain and chaos.

Same old bull.


Mainly because I’m not in charge. Even if I planned a c-section for a set date, I STILL wouldn’t be in charge, because change would come. Chaos would follow. Discomfort would surely be on its heels and I cannot predict the future. I can only live moment to moment and notice when I land there. (Hint: This is what gratitude is.)

So I ask myself, “What can I accept?”

Life comes in waves. Without waves we have monotony. Monotony is boring. There is no growth. There is no change. We can’t love more or deeper and really experience what it means to be human when we have monotony.

So finally, “What can I do about this?”


So I can continue existing—impatiently—resigned to the fact that I WILL have to experience this space between now and later. Not pretending it is easy, by any means, but not prolonging my suffering either by striving for control over a thing you give up control over when you decide to become a mother.

I, personally, take comfort in gratitude—for my supportive husband, for my village of people caring for my 3 year old when I feel unable, for my flexible job and schedule, for all the successes the last 3 years has brought me and the lessons the failures have taught me. For the realization that I am not the same woman I was 3 years ago when I found myself in this same position. I am better. I am stronger. I know more. I trust more. I have more love, more confidence, a bigger village. My birth will be even more of what I want, just as this pregnancy was.

So, for me at least, I think the lesson is feeling my feelings of discomfort and impatience without commenting on them (“I should . . .”) and surrendering my need for control. Surrendering my need for comfortable. Surrendering my need to decide when my baby is born.

Just. Being.

Shit that sounds hard. That is hard. So what? So it’s hard.

Fine. I can do hard things. And so can my 3 year old. I tell her so, and then I remind myself of the same.

It is hard to wait.

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