On the Launch Pad

"You're on the launch pad, but his finger is on the button," our doctor told us at our most recent appointment on Monday. Apparently I've made some good progress with dilation and effacement, but nothing that would require us to check into the hospital, grab a stopwatch or even call our doula. So the past few days I've spent over-analyzing every odd feeling or dull ache (and I have had some). Google is an amazing tool, but - like most things - it can become evil with overuse. And in the past few days, I have most certainly been abusing it, googling things like "what do contractions feel like?" and "how do I know I am in labor?" and then spending hours reading through the varied experiences of other women and the advice of so-called "experts". This kind of thing is useless, because I already knew that everyone is different and it's futile to try to draw comparisons. He could decide to push the button now, or in a week from now, or even more than that. Yet I kept going with it, and when I realized that I spent an hour looking at images I found by googling "mucus plug", I knew I was officially out of control.

And so I will approach today (and each new day that does not bring launching) with a different attitude. No more googling for me. I'm going to enjoy the peace of these mornings and the calm of these afternoons and evenings. With each day that passes, the rhododendron and wisteria blooms in our backyard become more full and beautiful to greet Tadpole when he arrives. That's not such a bad thing.

Perhaps most importantly, I realized that this serves as my first in what are surely millions of lessons in learning to trust that my son knows what's best. His finger will press that button when he's most ready (regardless of how much raspberry leaf tea that I drink). My learning process has already begun, and it looks like he decided the first one will be one in patience.