What’s meant to be will be…
I loved being pregnant. I know I’m weird. I was so lucky to have had a very easy pregnancy with little aversions or sickness. I loved the excitement of waking up to see how my body was changing and reading the weekly updates on how baby was developing. I loved the glow and luscious hair (although I didn’t love it so much when all of my hair started falling out, will get to this later). I won’t lie, I have even entertained the thought of being a surrogate (only for about 5 seconds), that’s how much I enjoyed being pregnant… until the 40th week.
My husband is a musician and travels all over the world. So many people have difficulty understanding how I deal with it all. I’m an only child and independent so I’m comfortable being alone. Not to mention, when it’s your soul mate you make it work. There are perks to go along with the travel, like getting to visit some amazing places. For the past 7 years it’s really never been a problem, until I was 40 weeks pregnant. R has missed some birthday’s and Thanksgiving’s, which are just as hard if not harder for him than me, but missing the birth of our child terrified me.
Our little guy was due January 2nd which was logistically perfect. We hired a doula partially because we were working towards a natural birth, but also to make sure I would have an advocate with me in the delivery room whether R was there or not. R had a holiday performance commitment meaning he would be away from just before Thanksgiving until Christmas Day. He would then be home through the New Year leaving again on January 7th making the 2nd perfect, unfortunately Little R had different plans.
My parents came to visit during the holiday’s then my mom stayed until little R was born so I wouldn’t be home alone, but her duration ended up being much longer than anticipated. I tried all of the non medical ways to get labor going – ate every type of eggplant dish, walked the mall at least 5 times a day, acupuncture, even chiropractic. Jan 2nd came and went, R was back on the road and I was pushing 41 weeks pregnant. Our doctor was threatening induction, which was not part of our birth plan and I was terrified our little guy would come while R was away.
Much to my dismay, R left for his show and returned on the 9th. We picked him up at the airport, dropped him off at our house, and my mom and I went to walk the mall as we had done so many days before. This time was different. I was struggling but with having so many false labor signs previously, I decided to ignore it. We then headed to the grocery store as I had requested steak and potatoes for dinner to stock up on calories before the impending labor.
Our doula kept telling us that babies come when the environment is settled. As much as I felt I believed that, there was still fear and doubt in the back of my mind that our little one would come while R was on the road. But our doula was right, and our little guy arrived the day R came home. I mean how boring would this story have been if it ended with, “And then he came on Jan 2nd just as planned.” I have never been good with things that I can’t control or check off my list according to plan but life can’t be planned. The first lesson I learned as a new mom was to accept that (most) things are out of my control and to truly enjoy the journey. Yes, it took giving birth for me to realize that life really is all about the journey.