The weight of waiting well

A very present reflection on reaching the end of this pregnancy

Today is my due date with my sweet boy.

Our “Goose” as we have affectionately come to know him, has had us on the edge of our seat as I am 35+ days into prodromal labor, and yet here we are still in the wait. As this day has approached, with all its anticipation, my heart has continuously heard the whispers of waiting well. A constant encouragement that there is something in this time for ME specifically. I feel the pressure, as many moms do, to speed up the process or wish this time away so I can hold this baby, but louder than the pressure to induce labor has been the invitation to notice.

I feel something I spent a large portion of my life not believing was possible. I feel enveloped by God. This feeling is something I will treasure forever, especially in this season of so many spinning plates. I’m nesting in a borrowed tree while we renovate, and it’s a true miracle to be in the midst of this and feel fully seen, fully known, fully loved. I know when our Goose comes, we will pour ourselves into him. His every need, his every cry, his very presence, and that is as it should be. But for 40 weeks exactly, I have felt the gift of being on the receiving end of that attention. In the quiet rooms of my heart, I have wrestled and ruminated on my every desire and hope and fear and not once have I felt alone in those rooms. God, my companion in the dark and in the sunshine, has led me to the sweetest most playful season I have ever experienced. Not without its challenges and stresses, of course. But full and overflowing with freedom.

Yes, I am waiting for my baby to come, but we wait collectively for different things all the time. I am waiting for our house renovation to be complete, I am waiting for inspiration, I am waiting for the leaves to change. We wait for forgiveness, and a better mood, and a new season to cover the pangs of this one. We wait to finally get pregnant, or for that vacation, or to be noticed, to find a job, to be able to afford things, to like our spouse again in hard seasons. The truth is, in any and everything we wait for, it is possible for us to waste the wait. To bypass the sacred within the time and will ourselves to our desired outcome. I’ve done it, and I’ll never know what I missed. But today, I am sitting in determination to savor every second. To extract every good morsel I can out of this time full of gifts for ME, before I am in a season of sole devotion to another.

As I sit here now, I have reached the date my head and my heart expected to end the waiting, and yet here I am. Still waddling between anticipation and presence. I’m trying to practice what my heart is longing for me to do though I don’t always know how.

So today, I sat in the sun to feel every molecule of warmth on my skin, and took a walk. I ate with friends who have carried me through this specific season. I heard a man pour his heart out in song through his open window, the wind forcing the leaves to flutter to the street as if bringing his voice down to us on the sidewalk. I ran into a branch that , upon inspection was full of lemons, just abundant and ripe with fruit. I observed the sights and sounds of the neighborhood with my whole heart, my swollen belly feeling the weight of the wait. I am holding in one hand nervous anticipation, and in the other I hold peace for the present moment. All the unexpected things that can happen when bringing a baby into the world could flip this feeling in a moment, I know that especially as an anxious person. But I need just enough for now, just enough for today.

I will clean up and make lunches and stock the fridge again and again and again “just in case” today is the day. But my promise to myself is to keep noticing and tending to this time. To keep making memories with my girls, and take that extra long kiss in the kitchen, and go on that walk with my eyes wide open. I will never get this time back, and I want to look back fondly at my attempt to wait well.

I’ll take it all. The sweet and the bitter parts, if it means I am here. Help me come to a full stop to look around and notice. Help me not miss a thing in the here and now, fully empowered to feel. Help me keep my hands open to what is offered. And when it’s time, let me be fully there. In the room you are preparing to meet me, in the love I haven’t yet experienced. I do not wait alone, I do not wait for nothing.

Amen.