I've been thinking a lot lately about the act of waiting. I feel like my entire past 8 months have been a continual process of waiting -- on making decisions about our future, for visas, for the birth of my baby. And it's interesting to me that the time of waiting is a mix of action and inaction. There have been times of furious activity on our part, when despite waiting, we had decided to move forward in hope. There have also been times of inactivity -- like not purchasing all our plane tickets at once.
And right now, as I'm only 3 weeks from my due date, but fully aware that the baby could come pretty much any time, I feel a strange sense of waiting -- like I'm caught between weight and buoyancy, not sinking but not floating. My baby moves within me, with strong vigor, and I feel the pressure and slight pain that foreshadows the labor to come. Often in those moments, I long for the waiting to be done. I want this baby to come -- now! A part of me is tired of my waddle, tired of being out of breath, tired of finding it uncomfortable to hold my 2-year-old.
But also in the waiting, I want to treasure the last nights I have of fairly good sleep. I want to hold on to my days that aren't consumed with nursing and holding a new little one, whose vigor will include cries once s/he's on the outside of my womb. I want to soak up the joy and energy of my amazing 2-year-old in all our interactions, before my attention is suddenly divided.
While waiting, I want to be active, cramming in as much sightseeing and teaching as I can before life gets fuller and tougher. But I'm also exhausted. The weather is still quite warm and sunny, and it's much more comfortable to just sit in a breezy shady spot than to tour Jerusalem.
And so I linger in these last days and/or weeks before the baby's birth, having no idea when life will suddenly change. May I make the most of what remains, and take hope in the joy that is to come...
And right now, as I'm only 3 weeks from my due date, but fully aware that the baby could come pretty much any time, I feel a strange sense of waiting -- like I'm caught between weight and buoyancy, not sinking but not floating. My baby moves within me, with strong vigor, and I feel the pressure and slight pain that foreshadows the labor to come. Often in those moments, I long for the waiting to be done. I want this baby to come -- now! A part of me is tired of my waddle, tired of being out of breath, tired of finding it uncomfortable to hold my 2-year-old.
But also in the waiting, I want to treasure the last nights I have of fairly good sleep. I want to hold on to my days that aren't consumed with nursing and holding a new little one, whose vigor will include cries once s/he's on the outside of my womb. I want to soak up the joy and energy of my amazing 2-year-old in all our interactions, before my attention is suddenly divided.
While waiting, I want to be active, cramming in as much sightseeing and teaching as I can before life gets fuller and tougher. But I'm also exhausted. The weather is still quite warm and sunny, and it's much more comfortable to just sit in a breezy shady spot than to tour Jerusalem.
And so I linger in these last days and/or weeks before the baby's birth, having no idea when life will suddenly change. May I make the most of what remains, and take hope in the joy that is to come...
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