Wise Words || The Final Moments Of Pregnancy

I’m sitting at Cedars Sinai Hospital. In Room 3003. Not to be confused with Room 3004, where I laid two weeks ago. Or 3005 where I laid for the past 3 days, prior to going home for a single night, only to be back here again. While one might guess I keep coming back for the warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies the hospital brings you EVERYDAY at 3:30 PM, instead it is my precarious ultrasounds at 37 weeks pregnant. 

If I’m honest, this pregnancy thing has been easy. I know I’m risking digital daggers and death stares from all of the amazing mamas who’ve endured gestational diabetes, serious swelling, and morning sickness, but I think it’s important to let ‘moms to be’ know that it’s not always a shit show. At 38, and I’ve said this before, I thought this was going to be a nightmare. I gain weight easily. I swell easily. And historically speaking, I am not a good vomiter. So when pregnancy was in full swing and these symptoms were not, I was a happy camper and have continued to be. 

But, now, as I sit in the hospital for the 10th time in two weeks, it’s hitting me that this ‘pregnancy experience’ (one that I might only choose to do once or GET to do once) is going to be over tomorrow. I, like many women of ‘advanced maternal age’ was recommended to deliver a bit earlier than 40 weeks. Complications can ensue and based on the fact that this baby boy is over 7 lbs at 37 weeks, I am A-OK with him coming into the world a tad bit early. I’m happy he’s been fed well :) Additionally, there have been some variables on my ultrasound that, while not dangerous, are motivating my doctors to deliver baby boy tomorrow. 

If I’m honest, this is where it’s gotten hard for me. What was supposed to be a September 9th induction date is now August 25th. For me, it’s less about ‘OMG, we don’t have our ducks in a row!” Our ‘mild scare’ hospital visit at 34 weeks lit a fire under Micah and I’s ass, so said ducks. are. in. a. row.

Note: You can listen to that ridiculous story on my ‘All Facts, No Hacks’ Episode on my podcast, Off The Record. Podcast takeaway: I won’t be visiting a floatation tank anytime soon. 

What IS hard is knowing that this time is coming to an end. Pregnancy has been truly eye-opening. I was so scared of it for years. I put it on a fear pedestal, one that was, in hindsight, unreasonable. From pregnancy, I’ve learned that everyone’s experience is different.  Hearing of people’s tragedies is NOT directly proportional to it happening to you. I’ve learned how to treat and talk to my body differently. To welcome the change, as if it was a relief. To lean on my husband more than I’ve ever leaned on another human. To let him and friends and family help me because I shouldn’t be carrying all the weight – figuratively and literally. It has been, in a word, forgiving. And that I couldn’t have expected 10 months ago. This experience gifted me something I didn’t know I could gift myself: a better relationship with myself, so that in the end, I can have a strong relationship with my son. 

So, as I sit here, in my hospital bed, with my baby’s heart beat sounding off on the monitor and The Steve Harvey Show jockeying for position on the TV above, I am overcome with gratitude. For being given this opportunity. For believing in my hopes, not my fears. For the nurses, doctors, friends, and family members that got me here. For my husband for letting me love him more during this time. And for baby Monty (the NAME!).

I’ve been told you will test me and challenge me. I’ve been told your existence will make me sleep-deprived and doubt myself as a mother. But the most accurate thing I’ve been told is that I will never love anything as much as I love you. I can’t wait to meet you, little boy. I’m already proud of you. And I’m so blessed to, at 38 years old, feel more prepared than I ever have before. 

Thank you to everyone who has supported and encouraged me throughout this pregnancy. While a blog is no place to feel the weight of that truth, please know I mean it from the bottom of my heart. It has made all the difference. I can’t wait to share pictures of this time and to move gracefully into the next phase of life – one that repeatedly whispers, ‘the best is yet to come.