“It’s a waiting, anticipating, a funny gift from up above, a little sick till I got used to it, a patient kind of love”

– Those are the first words I wrote  in a christmas song called “Miracle, Baby” years ago which was really about a friend’s pregnancy after 10 years of fertility issues. And now I play it for our baby in the belly, but it’s the patient part I’m thinking about.

I may have said before that patience is not my strongsuit. I’m a planner. The thought of not knowing or being able to tell my coaching clients and guitar students which week this month the baby will be born (and that week they won’t get a session since I am only taking one week off) is frustrating for me though it seems to not frustrate them at all. Not knowing when my mother will come, not knowing if the house will be clean or dirty when the contractions for real, how much laundry will there be? Will Aunt Amelia be at home or on tour?  Will I have had a good night’s sleep? Will it piggy-back onto the end of an exhausting gall-bladder attack?

In fact, everyone seems more patient than me. Nobody has asked “is she here yet?” Nobody has bugged me (maybe this is because the baby measures small and they all want to keep her in longer to fatten her up.) But it’s all up to Iris.

I have heard many women say that they don’t want the baby to come because then they have to share it with the world. But I do want to share my baby- my body feels like is has taken the brunt of the miracle for way too long already. And I want my body back (not to feel sick and to have my gall bladder working  to help me digest my food again.)

We’re not doing any more internal exams until there are timeable contractions and this is supposedly to keep me from going crazy. So I could still be at 1cm or I could be at 3cm- all I know is that it hurts to walk with that softball head where it is. My “real” contractions are mixed with braxton hicks and intermittent long periods of “menstrual cramps” but nothing is a pattern at all. There is so much going on and yet nothing that points us to a day. And her other song…

“Iris is a rainbow red orange yellow

Amelia, like the pilot green blue indigo violet”

And each day, I fly fearlessly into the wild blue yonder.