Towards the end of each of my pregnancies, I’ve encountered this strange, liminal space, in which I am both miserable and completely unready for change. It’s silly if you think about it. The baby has to exit my body — there’s no way around it. But for those few brief weeks, from about 37 weeks until whenever the baby shows up, I occupy the in-between space. The baby is safe, I can feel the kicks and barrel rolls, I’m no longer worried about pre-term labor, but I’m not ready for the seismic shift of a new life yet.
You might think this sounds crazy — how could anyone not be ready to meet their baby at the end of pregnancy? But, when you’ve had difficult postpartum experiences you’re all too aware that the work of labor is just the beginning of another long stretch of difficulty. It can be hard to want it to begin. So hard in fact, that my most recent labor started and stopped no fewer than three times, with my midwife’s official birth record reading something like, “392 hours” for the first stage of labor1. Every time my contractions would pick up, the only thing I could think was, “I am too tired to do this right now”. And so I’d labor for a day, or a few hours, contractions would come hard and three minutes apart. And then they’d stop. On and on for two weeks, until we were butting right up against a hard deadline of 42 weeks and my options were to have a baby or go to the hospital2. My husband, who is both perceptive and wise, finally asked me, “When are you going to decide to have this baby?”
At 41 weeks and 5 days, I finally acquiesced to reality. There were tears. We had a baby. It was an amazing birth. But I wasn’t ready one second sooner than the moment she was in my arms, because it turns out that sometimes grace shows up not when you think you need it, but when you actually do.
Why all this talk about birth? Because if this move is a little like having a baby, I’m 38 weeks pregnant. I’m holding on to everything, thinking if I can just manage it tightly enough I will stave off the coming upheaval. I’m too tired to do this again. I’m still living something resembling my old life, and the familiar, while growing more uncomfortable each minute, with boxes strewn about and unmistakable signs of impending change, is still more known than the expanse of unanswered questions stretching before me.
At nap-time I shove aside a box to read one of my three year old’s favorite books — We’re Going on a Bear Hunt3. After ten years of reading it to my small children, I could recite it with my eyes closed. The rhythmic chanting rolls off my tired tongue:
“We’re going on a bear hunt, we’re gonna catch a big one. What a beautiful day! We’re not scared! Uh-oh, grass, long wavy grass. We can’t go over it, we can’t go under it. Oh no. —
“GOT GO FREW IT!” he yells gleefully. It’s his favorite line.
It’s my least favorite line
I would like to go around, underneath, in between, above, below, to the side, in a circle… anywhere but through.
What does through look like? It looks like feeling the grass go swishy-swashy, splash splashing through streams, feeling squelchy and squirchy mud under our feet, stumbling through forests, shivering through snowstorms and tiptoeing into caves.
In other words, going through things is an ADVENTURE.
My three year old knows this, but I am many times his age and sometimes I can only see danger, not delight. Instead of all the opportunities for adventure, I focus on the scary bear that sends me running back to my bed, declaring “We are NOT going on a bear hunt again!”
Children, in their wonderful way, see only the delight of discovery, the thrill of exploration, and the relief of a cozy retreat. What my three year old sees in these pages is a family working together, helping each other across muddy flats and full streams, a baby on daddy’s shoulders, and the dog running ahead. He sees a family that kind of looks like ours, and he is here for it all.
“We go Torth Carolina ‘morrow? I can’t wait!”
Oh, to be like a child.
I am tired, and not ready for an adventure. I am scared, and I don’t want to find big bears4. I could easily go back to bed and hide under the covers, but life seems to demand that I keep going.
I know that it’s the fighting change more than the experiencing it, that causes our suffering. Babies come when they’re ready. Moves happen when they must. We’re never, ever ready, and maybe that’s okay. Maybe there’s no magical sequence of management that will make the leap off the cliff feel any less terrifying than it is. At some point, you just surrender to the work. At some point I will stop wondering if there’s a perfect order in which to pack boxes, and I will just keep putting things in them. I know this process, but the knowing it doesn’t make it any easier. For all our management strategies, the only thing we can really do is live through our life, day by day, asking for the grace to see it as an adventure, and trusting that the grace will come, not exactly when we ask, but right on time.
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Lately:
Reading: Nothing. My focus is at an all time low, I’ve watched too many Facebook reels and I keep falling asleep while nursing the baby. Halp. Suggestions for non-trashy fluff reads welcome!
I did read this by
and snort laugh.Notes is different from a social media platform. Instead of being run by a large, sketchy corporation, it’s run by a smaller, slightly less sketchy corporation. Giant tech companies use algorithms specifically designed to keep you on their platforms for as long as possible by showing you polarizing hot takes and pictures of adorable animals. Notes, on the other hand, uses algorithms specifically designed to keep you on the platform for as long as possible by showing you writing advice, inspirational quotes, pictures of adorable animals, and, for some reason, everything Ted Gioia posts.
Listening: This song, an old one by J.J. Heller that was the soundtrack to a few difficult college years came to mind this week. Maybe you could use it too.
I have unanswered prayers I have trouble I wish wasn't there And I have asked a thousand ways That you would take my pain away You would take my pain away I am trying to understand How to walk this weary land Make straight the paths that crookedly lie Oh Lord, before these feet of mine Oh Lord, before these feet of mine
And this podcast interview, “When You’re Disappointed with Mom Life Limitations” with
was an absolute balm to my heart. She talks about how taking our raw, honest grief and lament to God is the path toward finding joy and life within our limitations. It was timely, encouraging and life-giving. In so many areas of life I continue to find that grief is the only way to get through without bitterness.Thinking: There’s been some emotional maelstrom to work through the last few weeks, and predictably I’ve been using my phone as a security blanket. Sigh. Not ideal. So, I’m just putting this in writing for my own accountability. I’m getting back to my after 1 pm Substack rule, and need to start my morning pages again. An introverted external processor without a journaling practice is a whole sityeeashun. It may result in me muttering things that are wholly unrelated to the problem at hand, then running away and bursting into tears under a blanket, to my family’s bewilderment. It’s just so much better for everyone when I’m writing.
LOL — Never start the birth record until you’re *sure*. But it felt accurate. If you’ve had prodromal start/stop labors you’ll understand.
Legalities depend on the state, but in ours, any mother going past 42 weeks is in for a hospital induction.
Despite telling me it was soooo silly, all the kids watched this video of the author performing it the whole way through. And if you’re not familiar with this classic, you can see the illustrations :)
This line is sort of ironic, because in our last big move there actually were bears (grizzlies to be precise) in our back yard. No real bears this time, only proverbial ones.
Go frew it. Littles carry such wisdom! When did we grow away from seeing life this way? Great words to ponder. I always enjoy receiving your writing...it always hits home to my mom heart. We moved to North Carolina nine months ago and we love it. If you're moving to the Charlotte area would love to show you around!
Annelie I loved this more than I can say: the beautiful writing, the reference to going on a bear hunt, the way I can relate to not wanting to go frew it! So good! 💯
A non-trashy light read I would recommend is the laeticia rodd mysteries by Kate saunders or a good kids chapter book!