Being Late
Pregnancy is magical. There is life growing within you. You feel the evidence every time your baby stretches, punches or kicks. You glow with fertile roundness. Everyone loves to see a pregnant woman. They hold the door for you. They open up extra check-out lanes at the grocery store with a smile. People who would otherwise never look your way or say a word to you, suddenly become verbose inquisitors. It is a beautiful, life-affirming time. Right?
Well, what about being late? What about when you cross the 40 week mark? What about when you thought you would be done with this glowing, brilliant time and yet, somehow, you aren’t? What about when your ass continues to expand and your hips feel like they are going unhinge from the sheer weight of your ever expanding uterus? What do you do when you feel like an actual planet, with gravitational pull and your own atmosphere?
You walk. You keep moving forward. You hope that, Earth’s gravity will somehow rip the baby you have so lovingly cherished for nine months from the confines of your blessed, dark womb and into the great, bright world the rest of us reside in.
You squat. You bear down into the floor. You believe that somehow if you can just get your legs wide enough apart for light to shine in, your precious bundle will follow the light, something you are sure he instinctually knows how to do.
You talk, loudly. Then you have your husband crouch down to a place you haven’t seen in months and exclaim with great authority as this child’s father to “Please, pretty please, come out and play.” This you do in expectation that surely the baby will be courteous enough to comply.
Then, when none of that works, you cry. You sit on a hard chair in your backyard, the wind blowing sweetly across your skin, and you let it go. These are not tears of sadness. These aren’t even tears of anger or impatience. These are the tears of woman who is willing to admit when she is beat. The tears of woman who knows that truly nothing is in her control. Finally, she has seen she is not the author of this baby’s life, but just the facilitator of his coming forth. And these tears, somehow, bring clarity.
You pray. If your are wise you have been praying the whole time, listening for the answer, and trusting for the best. Though, if you are honest, you have probably also been telling the Lord what you want, instead of asking Him, as the child’s creator, what His thoughts are on the subject. So you pray again, first for forgiveness, forgiveness that you thought you could figure out His plan within the confines of your limited imagination. Then you pray for help, begging Him to look down and see you here in this state.
Then you wait. You wait for your Heavenly Father, who is also the Father to the one you carry, to answer. And you continue to wait. Not out of false humility or conjured patience. You don’t pretend you are thrilled with your current condition. You don’t paste on a smile and spout uplifting, if shallow, inspirational diatribes. You just wait. Honestly, totally, and without expectation.
You wait because you know that the journey you are on has been ordained by Him, and he knows when it is going to end. You wait because what fun would there be in knowing all the answers and having all the pieces laid out for you? You wait because you’d rather be late by the worlds clock, but right on time by God’s.
You wait.
***Updated***
8/18/09
I went to the doctor today, and despite the constant contractions and seemingly impeding labor, my status has not changed in a week. My initial reaction to this was pure and simple irritation, because despite my complete willingness to wait, I also had expectations that I wouldn’t have to wait much more. (Typically human response, we don’t mind waiting on God, as long as it isn’t too long or too difficult.) I couldn’t help wondering: why am I having all of the blasted labor signs when I am clearly not in labor? Why doesn’t this baby want to come out?
This inner monologue of mine turned a corner toward another question entirely as we headed home, me fighting off discouragement while Nathan drove distractedly and robotically nearly past our exit; what is it about us humans that desires to know why? Where in the word does it say God has to explain himself to us? So I made a decision: why is a feudal question, one I do not need the answer to. See, we want to know why, because we want desperately to control something. We think if we can just act good enough, or be humble enough, or pretend to not care enough, God (who sees our hearts and knows our innermost workings) is going to be fooled into giving us exactly what we want.
But, He won’t, the word is pretty clear on that. So, I am still waiting. But no more walking because it may create contractions. No more trying out pressure points. No more not thinking about it but really thinking about it all day long. No more. I am going to put my feet up, watch a good movie, and remember that my God is the one who will induce labor, He is the one who knows the ordained days for Samuel, and HE is the one who knows the why in this crazy world.
Thanks to all those who are praying for us. It is truly encouraging to be part of this body of believers, to know we are surrounded not only in our own backyard, but across the continent and world as well.