I've jokingly likened the wait for Sunflower to watching a kettle and waiting for it to boil. But I realized today I'm not waiting for it to boil, I'm willing it to boil as if by the sheer force of staring at the metaphorical kettle I will produce within it the bubbles I desire. I'm reading Momma Zen, a book given by a lovely friend, which, if you are pregnant or a new mama, you must read. She talks a lot about living in the moment, letting go of the illusion of control and being in the moment that is before us and she says it in a way that makes you stop in your tracks and listen.
Logically, I accept I can't control everything. I couldn't get nor keep pregnancies at will. I can't will a publisher to put an offer on the book my agent is shopping. We fight the carpenter bees in our awning daily but we can't control their hardiness. I know this and yet I still try to control things I can't. It's why I find myself up at 2am filled with anxiety as I wonder when will this happen? Why not now? And yet, these thoughts won't affect labor. I can do my best, walking and otherwise, but ultimately I don't hold the key to the outcome.
I'm trying to let go of the attempts to control and instead enjoy the time I have left. I can't wait to hold him in my arms but I will miss these karate kicks in my womb. I can't wait to hear him cry hearty sobs from healthy lungs but I'm sure a part of me will miss this silence in the middle of the night.
I guess I've been trying so hard to figure out what the next step is I forgot I can't. And the book helped me realize, that when it comes to control and my plans, they will all flip upside down once the baby comes. I plan to breastfeed but maybe I'll be unable to. I shudder at the thought of a C-section but that may be the only option. I have my Wii Fit ready to go to drop the baby weight but maybe it will go slower than I think. We imagine a happy cooing baby but we might have a colicky little bundle. If I thought I had little control now, that control is likely slipping away further once he arrives.
I'm telling myself: If I go all remaining ten days still pregnant- that's okay. I will re-read my favorite books. Call a friend and indulge in a one hour chat. Sleep in and watch the morning filter in through the windows letting the silence feel sacred. Go out with Jack Saturday night, hold his hand on an evening stroll and appreciate this brief interlude before we are coated in spit up and leaky diapers. I'm reminding myself I can't control the outcome but I can control what I do with the time I have.