BABY DAY JITTERS
I remember having this strange feeling as my due date approached. I absolutely loved being pregnant and there was definitely a period of mourning for that process coming to an end. But there was an annoying little reality that would tap me on the shoulder anytime I started to get really excited about baby’s arrival. It was the fact that “I actually have to do this”. I remember driving to the hospital at 5:30am after we got the call to come in for our induction; we had called all of our family members who’d all promptly jumped out of bed, got dressed and were on their way to the hospital like Buddy the Elf on his way to see Santa. Everyone was SO excited and what a blessing! Yes, the bump we had all nurtured and loved and rested our hands on in anticipation was about to become the baby we had all been waiting months for. Plus the added bonus of finally getting the answer to the question… “pink or blue?” But on that drive reality hit me in the pit of my big, beach ball tummy… “I actually have to do this”. Yes, our family is getting its newest member, yes we’re all elated, but I’m the only one who has to do this! What is it going to be like? Am I driving to the worst night of physical pain in my life? Am I literally going to tear from one end to the other? Then I began meticulously plotting my sales pitch to Chris as to why he should turn the car around. I had to purse my lips to stop myself from saying “You know what, on second thought, what’s the need to rush? This baby seems comfortable, it’s all good. Call everybody back and let’s go back home.”
As a female who grew up hoping to have a family of her own someday, you pay a little extra attention to movies like Nine Months and Father of the Bride Part ll. You watch those scenes with Robin Williams as the gynaecologist speaking broken English and fainting at the sight of an epidural, and sweet Annie Banks-Mackenzie being rushed down the hall for an emergency delivery… and they sort of sit with you. Having a baby was not a thought at all foreign to me. I grew up around babies, I was a nanny for several years to multiple families, I was an auntie and even got to be in the delivery room for the birth of my niece! Which, by the way, could not have gone better; my sister delivered beautifully after just a few pushes and didn’t even mess up her freshly curled hair for those treasured “She’s here!” pictures. But now I had to do it, and maybe it wasn’t going to be all that pretty. As Chris and I had discussed during my foley-bulb procedure (see Lou’s Birth Story blog post), I had never been the patient. Never broke a bone, never hospitalized, and the only time I’d been put under anaesthesia was to have my wisdom teeth removed… whoop-dee-doo!
It was like all that talk of being a strong, independent, I-can-handle-anything woman was leading me to this moment in life where I was being told “Oh yeah? Prove it.” I kept imagining Beyoncé asking me “Who run the world?” and I kept internally screaming back “GIRLS!” to psych myself up. It was a whole new level of mental toughness that I didn’t know I was capable of. And before I knew it, I was settled into my little private room that resembled a tiny house in the Mother and Baby Care Unit, right next to my new baby girl. I did it… I totally did it! I don’t remember the moment the fear left me and my inner Sasha Fierce took over, and I’m not even sure it ever did. But it didn’t matter.. because I did it.
Everywhere I went afterwards I would just look around at all the women who I knew were mothers and be in awe. We ALL did it. At a hockey game cheering on my nephew I looked around at the crowd and thought how each person in there had at one point been someone’s baby, somebody else’s “I did it” moment. As with everything in pregnancy (and evidently for the rest of my life navigating motherhood) there is no playbook, no manual. We are all just on the roller coaster of this experience, doing the best we can, soaking in the highs and hoping not to puke at the big drop. Which I also totally did into my ice chip cup, and I STILL did it.
If you’re approaching baby day and experiencing those same jitters, I have to think it’s normal. Who wouldn’t be scared?! Who knows, maybe even Beyoncé had a Ron Burgundy moment and questioned her own Sasha Fierce-ness. But we do run the world! We create and sustain life. It might not mean much to hear but you’ve got this mama. Scream it into a pillow with me now… “GIRLS!” and see you on the other side!
