Frettin’

So the truth is that I’ve been tweaking out a bit at the prospect of going into labor. Even though I can’t remember what it felt like per se, I do remember that it REALLY HURT. And it was relentless. And it took a long time.

Unfortunately, when I was at this same point with Kate–waiting for labor to kick in–I had the benefit of blissful ignorance about what labor would be like. I mean, how bad could it be?

Then, 9 days past my due date when she finally decided to make a fashionable entrance, I remember thinking, “How in the world is it that people ever elect to do this twice? If we want another kid, we’ll adopt.”

Then that mind-eraser thing happens that deletes your memory of what labor felt like. And then that absolute head over heels love you feel for the one kid you have, and suddenly the thought of going it again doesn’t seem so unreasonable after all.

That is, until now. Two days past due and staring down the barrel of more labor agony. And this time, trying to not only have an un-medicated birth, but to also have a vaginal delivery after Kate’s C-section. Is it too late to decide I don’t want to do this any more?

Where a few days ago I was patiently enjoying where I was–not too terribly uncomfortable in my body and savoring our last days as a family of three–today I’m in a different place. It’s not exactly impatience to have the baby, since I’ve been spending some good middle-of-the-night time stressing over labor. I mean, I’d love to be able to roll over without a system of levers and pulleys to hoist this large baby-filled belly up and over to the other side without bouncing Mark out of the bed and slamming him against the far bedroom wall. And I’d love to meet this small being. Boy? Girl? Look like Kate or a whole new person?

I’ve just been a bit hesitant about the physical passage between the here and there.

But tonight I think I just need to slap myself upside the head. Whatever happens will happen and I will get through it. If I opt for the epidural and don’t fulfill the ultimate groovy natural birth, so be it. All of us got here from this whole birth process, and there have to be plenty more women out there who are wimpier than me, right?

This thing is, being this anxious is not only frustrating, it’s exhausting too. And I’m kind of getting sick of it. So earlier tonight I decided to just shake it off and stop worrying that all hell will break loose at my first contraction. I’m going to butch up and have a bit more faith in myself.

I can do this. It’ll be okay. So don’t you worry about me one bit.