After nine months of waiting, I’ve now passed the due date for my baby’s birth and am tussling with the to-and-fro waiting game. Swinging from patience and a philosophical ‘he’ll arrive when he arrives’ to a childlike frustration and inability to comprehend why he’s not here right now!
There’s nothing for me to do…with the move to maternity leave I’m left without the purpose that I’m used to having in my life. All I can do is just be. And it’s uncomfortable for me to occupy this space. I mean, sure, I’ve revelled in the past week where I had 2 hour baths every day, read five books, wrote loads of blog posts, met up with friends for coffee and spent time with family.
But I don’t know how much longer I can continue at this slow pace and yet I don’t have a choice.
I’m in the waiting game.
I’m partly anxious for his arrival to be before the New Year because we need him to be one year old in January 2019 so that he can attend the nursery we’ve found and love but which only takes children from the age of one onwards…and we won’t have enough leave to cover the time we’ll need to have off from work if he decides to arrive at the latest possible day in mid-January.
And I know how ridiculous this is…worrying about something that will take place in 12 months time and that we will face together if needed. It shows me that:
- I could benefit from having some coaching to consider how I can live more in the moment, projecting less into the future
- I’m still not comfortable with the idea of asking for help. I know that I have people in my life who love me and would be more than keen to support me and my family, potentially stepping into the gap. Yet the idea of asking for and accepting their help is of such magnitude and feels so uncomfortable
But it’s not just the future projections that are making the waiting game so uncomfortable. It’s the space, the vacuum, that this waiting game is creating in my life. I’m not really in the adult world…not able to drink and be merry, book in coaching clients or really do much with my life as I wait for my waters to break, for my contractions to start, for my life to change forever.
But neither am I in the parent world where my every thoughts will be consumed with nappies, feeding and overwhelming love. The pattern of life which will come with the arrival of my baby.
I know that I need to accept, I need to surrender, I need to just be in this space. But it’s so bloody difficult and I find myself again in the childlike space of foot-stamping frustration.
It’s not like there’s anything I can do, this post isn’t really meant to help me sort through my thoughts but instead to just vent and express how difficult this moment is. I know that when my little boy arrives, I’ll think ‘why didn’t I enjoy this time of space more?‘ but this is how I feel at the moment – frustrated – and there’s no point in denying it.
The waiting game will eventually end…it’s just a question of when.