Like a lot of pregnant women, the last weeks of pregnancy had me counting down to my due date. I had that one particular Wednesday entered in my Google Calendar like it was a not-to-be-missed appointment. It’s in the calendar. We’re not rescheduling.
It’s Out of Your Hands, Even If You’re Type A
Self, I hate to say it, but you may have a bit of a Type A personality. Dare I say… a bit of a control freak at times. If the ultrasound technician gave an accurate due date 100% of the time, they would’ve charged you a ton of money for their service.
Use the mantra: Have patience. Trust the process.
…Or ignore the mantra completely.
The illogical part of my brain saw my due date as THE DAY I would be done with pregnancy. I was determined that I would not be one of the women who went beyond her due date. Drawn out discomfort? Not on my watch.
Fun fact about Kat: I hate being late. I get ruffled feathers when other people are late. Unless there is a reasonable excuse or you give me advance notice that you’re running behind schedule, I will not be a happy camper. It’s ingrained in me that tardiness is rude.
…there’s that Type A personality shining through again. I swear, I’m a fun person. Honestly.
Disliking lateness also applies to my unborn child. If they inherited my genes, they’ll debut on time, if not early. I didn’t want to be kept waiting. I was excited to meet her.
Time, Why Must You Forsake Me?
I checked the calendar way too often as the due date neared. Compulsively. In the final stretch, you go into hardcore countdown mode.
I wonder how many other ladies are tricked into thinking the end of pregnancy is near when in reality there could another couple weeks of waiting. I can’t be alone in this.
Aside: I also can’t imagine how women go through the last stages of pregnancy in the heat of summer. Those women are goddesses to the extreme. But I digress…
The last few weeks of pregnancy passed tremendously slowly like Father Time was making a mockery of my discomfort. Not cool, Father Time. It was okay though because I can be stubborn and was pretty sure that I could will my body into labour by sheer determination.
Delusional? Perhaps. But I’m a strong-willed creature. I’m not about to stay pregnant longer than I have to. So help me, tiny human, you shan’t be a tenant beyond the terms of our unspoken agreement.
Distract Yourself To Avoid Thinking About Your Due Date
As the days counted down, I did what any sane person would do. I took on a big, last-minute writing assignment from one of my clients a few days before my due date. I had four days before I was scheduled to have a kid. I could make it happen.
I filled my social calendar. I had coffee dates, walks, and meals planned to maximize the last of my child-free existence. It was awesome and indulgent.
Hey, Self, Your Due Date is Only an Estimate
Looking back, I’m proud of how I was able to make everything work. I definitely rolled the dice, especially on that client’s work. Your girl never misses a deadline though, and I turned in the assignment two days before the contractions started.
It turns out my kid takes after her mom where you’re either on time, or you’re early. It just so happens that she was early (but not annoyingly early). She was born the day before her due date, which in my book is pretty darn good. Thanks for not being late, kid. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.
Due dates aren’t a guarantee. Sometimes we luck out and our babies are born almost exactly when they’re expected. Sometimes the little creatures are running behind schedule and need a little coaxing by inducing labour.
As much as I like to believe that moms can influence when our babies enter the world, the reality is it’s entirely out of your hands. When you have a kid, you can’t plan for their arrival. That’s up to the universe.
For all those pregnant women out there who are counting down: Have patience, mama. Trust the process. Your little one will get here when they get here.