The Fifth and Final Race

For the second night in a row I find myself with a start-stop labor. Last night the contractions lasted for about 20 to 30 minutes and then sputtered out. Tonight they went for about an hour and then alleviated once again.

I found myself wondering what this child is waiting for. Is she/he not quite ready to make its debut into life? What is up with this kid? Then my thoughts took a whole different path. Perhaps it's not this child that is not fully prepared for this journey but the one who is delaying labor is me.

I feel like a marathoner standing on the starting line of their very last race. Anticipation, excitement and a overall feeling of wanting to puke comes over me in waves. I'm looking forward to what feels like my final labor, yet a sense of loss lingers. Could this be the last time I'm to run the race of childbirth?

It seems like, just as in labor, the key to working out these feelings is to surrender. I have surrendered to the fact of being pregnant again, to the morning sickness, to the accumulation of fat, to the eventuality of the pain in labor itself, and now to the loss (or change) of this stage in my life?

Well, my running shoes are on. I'm all geared up and at any minute now this little one is going to pull the trigger of the starting pistol. I'm determined to savor this last labor as much as possible. I want to enjoy the trials and blessings of intimacy that giving birth brings into our home. Then, with just as much determination, I will look forward to the next events that life will surely bring, such as the mountains of raising children, the slopes of teaching teenagers, the peaks of building and maintaining a home. I will traverse each stage while trying to sustain my own sanity.

I guess I have traded marathons for mountain climbing. Now I just hope I have the right shoes.