39.5 weeks

Here's the thing. From everything I have seen and read of women nearing their due dates, I should be overwhelmed with excitement, counting down the hours, and wishing and hoping for time to pass quickly.

I am in the exact opposite position.

People at work, at J's work, and everywhere else, keep squealing in excitement. We are constantly offered theories on how to get things moving and "get that baby here, already!" All I ever want to respond with is "No thanks. I'd like a little more time."

There are several factors, I think, and I'm trying to sort through them. First is the obvious: this is about the biggest change any human can experience, and I've never been good with change. With the exception of getting married, every other change in my life has been one that, even if I have always wanted or looked forward to it, I have dreaded in the immediate lead-up. New jobs, moving, traveling (especially traveling!), all make me uneasy and anxious. So, of course, this particular event is a magnification of all of that.

There is anxiety about the process itself. There is no way to know, no matter how much I research or read, how it will go for me, and some of the possibilities are, quite frankly, terrifying. I'm a fairly optimistic person, in general, but I also have a terrible streak of superstition/OCD, where believing that something will go well means I am jinxing myself, so expecting the worst has become my default. I have no problem earnestly believing in the best outcome for others, but I cannot do it for myself without being afraid that it's some sort of hubris.

The time of year. It's no secret that I'm a major germaphobe, and the stories of the diseases going around right now are making me particularly nervous about having a baby around. Hospitals! Visitors! I live with teenagers! Our families were kind enough to get flu shots at our request, and we're planning to ask anyone who has been sick within a week of visiting to stay away, but it still feels like there is only so much we can do.

Lastly, and I hate to put too much emphasis on this because I don't want to play the blame game, but other people are making it so hard to feel happy or even remotely ready. We've all met them: the people who are desperate, for whatever reason, to tell you their horror stories about the very thing you are about to experience yourself. Motherhood seems a magnet for this type of behavior, and it's notorious for that. In part, it makes sense: people want to relay their stories and advice, and more often than not, the bad stuff is what is memorable and, inevitably, the most entertaining to talk about. I get it, and I've been guilty of it myself, but when you're already at a heightened level of anxiety, it's hard to be forgiving. Today at lunch, within the span of just a few minutes, one co-worker insisted on telling me about her post-partum emotional breakdowns (and when I asked her not to, she said, "Oh, but it will happen to you!" This same woman, at a friend's baby shower a few years ago, explained in front of the mother-to-be that she hadn't wanted a baby shower before her baby was born because she had had a friend whose baby had been stillborn, and "You never know what can happen.") and another chimed in with the now-cliche, vague warnings about unendurable exhaustion. There was no helpful advice hidden anywhere in there, just hyperbole and a sense that they had earned a badge of honor and had the battle scars to prove it. So my question is this: When did they forget what it feels like to be on the precipice of new motherhood? Presumably, they themselves were anxious and scared before their first children, so when did they lose their senses of empathy and compassion? Were they confident beyond disruption, or have they just let themselves forget that they were once naive and petrified? Why would they assume that stories like that aren't going to be what flashes through my mind when I can't sleep at night?

I can't control any of these factors, so I've been trying to focus on ways to get excited. The first step: after my frustrating lunch today, I took to Twitter and asked for people to tell me wonderful things about having a baby, and I got the sweetest responses that nearly turned the whole day around. Score one for social media! Happily, J and I are also having dinner tomorrow night with a couple on campus who have five kids and absolutely love being parents. They always tell us that if they were to win the lottery, they would have five more kids immediately, and they've been so excited for us and have been incredibly supportive. I think their optimism might just carry us through. We have wonderful friends and family, too, including my childhood best friend and my sister, who have been sending the nicest and most encouraging messages that make all the difference. My mom came down last weekend just to take care of me, which was exactly what I needed and just so incredible. And, of course, my husband. He is equally, if not more, terrified, but he always lets optimism win out. Plus, he rubs my horrendously swollen feet and lets me sleep as much as I want.

I have also been trying my darndest to find pictures and blog posts and articles that remind me of all the wonderful things there are to be excited about. I read this one a few minutes ago and it was incredibly uplifting.

The moral of the story here seems to be that I need to try to harder to focus on the positive (and when isn't that true?). This is maybe just a test, an exercise in learning to control all that outside influence and direct my own thoughts.

This was long, and I'm sorry, but thank you for hearing me out. Here we go.