Every day I wake up still pregnant, I look down at the baby in my belly and think, "Ok girl, we can do this again."

Around 1pm though I'm singing a different tune and it sounds like, "Girl are we really going to do this again?"

Everything is set and organized and perfect.  Everything is assembled, the rugs have been vacuumed, the laundry is done, the dishes are washed, the floors are swept and the essential oils are full.  
But the longer I wait, the dirtier the floors get again, the pile of dishes grows, the animals need a flea bath so the sheets need washed again and we have to do another grocery run.  I keep having to re-set up the "perfect" house to welcome a newborn in.  Again and again and again.

My head is a mess.  What feels ok at 10 feels awful by 2.  What I'm set up to handle in the mornings with my affirmations and hypnosis I can't even grasp by dinner and the days are so long and hot and I'm floating in this limbo that doesn't feel real, every hour weighed down by the heaviness of possible labor that doesn't seem to be getting any closer as I scan my body for signs that aren't there.

Today I watched a whole bunch of natural births online, and every time that moment comes when a baby is finally born, tears stream down my face.  They don't feel like they're caused by emotions.  It's not like I'm overjoyed or amazed or feel anything that I can pin point as a particular feeling, but I always cry and cry and cry seeing a baby born that way, as if my tear ducts just let go instinctually.  And I'm reminded that women have this ability to touch divine when they give birth.  They are in between worlds, breathing in this one while opening to another.  There is really nothing else I can do that's like giving birth to a soul.  A woman must touch a different frequency, even briefly, to do that.

So if i really must wait for it, fine.  FINE.  It will be our turn someday (today?  please today).  She'll choose her birth day with or without my absolute impatient frustration.

I need creme brulee. 


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