I’ve never been induced before. With the other two, I went into labor. Wasn’t expecting it, wasn’t desperate for it, it just happened. With Jess, it was all so new and exciting and with Sam, it was such a sudden shock that I don’t think I fully realized what was happening until after he was born. But with this one – it’s been completely different. I’m wandering around the house, trying to think of all the last minute things that I’m forgetting, packing like I’m leaving for an overseas trip and in the back of my mind, terrified of what might go wrong.
I’m a worrier by nature. I like to imagine worst case scenarios and prepare for them, and then be delightfully surprised when they don’t happen. Not completely, because I also like to stay optimistic and hope for the best. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. And the worst case scenario is pretty bad, when it comes to birth. I think there’s a tiny part of every woman that’s aware that it wasn’t that long ago that dying in childbirth wasn’t unheard of. Even though there’s no indication that anything might even slightly go wrong with this birth, the baby and I are both staggeringly healthy – there’s still a tiny, unreasonably, irrational part of me that’s a little freaked out. Just a little.
Of course, I’m also a little freaked out about it hurting. Cause it’s gonna hurt. There’s no way around that. Pitocin is no joke. And even though I know for sure I’m getting the epidural, there’s going to be some serious pain involved.
Plus – I’m going to have another baby. A newborn, with all that it entails, midnight feedings, constant attention, nursing 24/7, plus all the complications that go along with introducing a new family member, how will Sam adjust, how will Jessie adjust, how will Marc adjust? It’s a lot to think about…
And every time I’ve started to panic tonight, I remember that by this time tomorrow, I’m going to be holding my tiny baby in my arms. And then all the worry disappears and I’m just all the way thrilled.