Time is weird. Sometimes it flies, other times it crawls, and still other times it seems to simply stand still. We have a lot of verbs in English to describe time’s activities from marching on to healing all wounds to running out. Time can also passively accept our actions, as we bide it, buy it, waste it, or even (quite morbidly) kill it. Time can be good, borrowed, or in its prime. Yes, there are plenty of ways to describe time.
I would also argue that, as many phrases exist for describing time, there are even more ways to experience it. And one of the most–shall we say?–unique ways to experience time is at the tail end of pregnancy. In this 2- to 4- week window, time somehow manages to expand and s—t—r—e—t—c—h itself to never-before-seen limits. And, like the symptoms that accompany an ever-stretching pregnant belly, it can be a whole lot of (not very) fun. And it’s in this late-stage-of-pregnancy liminal space that I find myself, again in the ridiculous Georgia heat. As of yesterday, I am 39 weeks pregnant with our second kiddo, and I am SO. READY. TO. BE. DONE. I know the end is in sight—my doctor won’t let me go past 41 weeks, so the maximum remaining time is 13 days—but the gap from now until the baby boy’s ultimate “eviction date” feels daunting, to say the least.
While the end is certainly coming, and I know that our little guy will be here by September 25th at the very latest, there’s also the very high chance he will be born on his own terms sometime before then. After all, babies prefer to set their own schedules, and their “escape” is often no exception. In other words, this baby boy could arrive LITERALLY ANY TIME IN THE NEXT TWO WEEKS, DAY OR NIGHT. This ongoing ambiguity, as you might guess, makes it nearly truly impossible to plan anything. Having friends over for dinner? Out the window. Jim’s monthly work daytrip to Chattanooga? Canceled. Meal-planning and grocery shopping for the whole week? That’s cute. We are well into the “wait” phase of the “hurry up and wait,” and there’s not much we can do about it.
At least we are more prepared this time around, both from the knowing-what-to-do-with-a-newborn standpoint and from the having-a-renovated-home perspective. Most notably, our kitchen is fully functional (yay!), and we don’t have a toilet in our back hallway anymore. These are the “wins” I need to keep in mind as I sit, yet again, in front of the box fan which is in front of the AC vent and try not to sweat through my clothes for the umpteenth time this week.
As long and drawn out as this process feels, though, I am also keenly aware that season is temporary. While it seems like I will be pregnant (and ridiculously hot/sweaty) forever, the reality is that the end is so very close. Even the parts of it that seem permanent, from the random mood swings to the very vibrant stretch marks, will eventually fade with time. I recognize that as well that, although “pregnancy purgatory” is its own special variety of limbo, waiting is a key part of life. So with that in mind, how can I learn to live fully in in-between spaces like this one? Put differently, how can I, as a normally “go-go-go” person, learn to wait well?
I do not claim to have the perfect answer to this question—and this final phase of pregnancy are definitely pushing me to my limits—but over the years, I have learned that being grateful and being present lie at the heart of waiting well. Time, even in its most excruciatingly slow forms, remains one of life’s most precious gifts. And living in the moment—even when that moment feels painfully long or incredibly slow—helps us become more fully human, more fully aware of our temporality, and more fully able to engage with others in meaningful ways. And how do we practice being present? This is where thankfulness can help. In all my years of thinking about time (I’m a historian, after all) and finding ways to capture time (through taking way too many photographs and journaling each night before bed), I’ve found that intentional thankfulness makes a real difference. The more often we pause to name the specific gifts and blessings in our lives, the more in tune we become with God’s goodness—even in difficult seasons of waiting. In short, gratitude is grounding.
So even though, yes, I am very tired of being very pregnant, and yes, I wish Georgia would finally cool down a bit, for goodness’s sake, I am also thankful for so many things: for the sweet time this past weekend as a family of three; for my toddler who is so excited to be a big sister; for my husband who has taken such good care of me, especially as my belly (and physical limitations) have grown; for friends and neighbors who have offered to bring us meals after baby boy arrives; for the chance to go to church one more time on Sunday; for a working HVAC system and a clean/organized house (again, not the case last time around); for spontaneous phone dates these last few weeks; and for a healthy and uncomplicated pregnancy up to this point. To quote one of my daughter’s favorite Dr. Seuss books, “There’s so much to be thankful for.” And, the more I remember this reality and pause and take stock of the blessings around me, the more peace (and less frustration) I feel in the waiting.
Alright, that’s enough deep thoughts for today. I am seriously so hot. Can snowcones help induce labor? I think I hear one calling my name…
In Plain Sight 
