My daughter’s due date came and went yesterday.
Ah. How we try not to hang our hopes on that day. How we try not to weep when it comes and goes because we were so aware of the unlikelihood of our child being born on the mythical due date. I look back on my own little randomly kept journal of those days.
“…the last couple of months have been sleepless and emotional and very anxious for the baby to arrive…” (’91)
“…it’s 4 a.m. and I just finished cleaning the house…I hope this is significant.” (’94)
“…my frustration level is really high…we’re all longing to hold our new baby…” (’94)
“…a moment to myself, thank you God…wish we could hold our baby in our arms…” (’97)
“…try as I might to love this waiting time…” (’99)
“…I felt edgy…” (’03)
and there is so much more.
Soon, very soon there will be a baby. And all the concern of this moment, and angst and frustration and fear that (yes, this is a thing) “I will be pregnant for the rest of my life” will melt away and seem like it never existed, like in decades old journals.