The Way of Waiting

The watched pot never boils.  I look down about a hundred times a day at the pot that is my belly and wait for it to boil.  I get excited at every cramp, movement and upset stomach.  My world is so wholly concentrated on watching this pot that nothing else seems to matter.  That seems to be the way of waiting…it sucks you dry of motivation for other things, yet wouldn’t the wait seem shorter if you allowed time to move on?  Rather than sitting and staring and waiting for time to pass, I should get up and do something – anything – that will take up minutes of my day just to push the hands of the clock forward.  The last few weeks of pregnancy are enough to make you insane.  My belly is a square composed of knees, elbows and a bony little bottom.  A turtle would beat me in any race, and the only time I get things accomplished is at midnight when for some reason I have the energy to do the one thing I’ve been meaning to do all day.  So here I sit, waiting for my precious baby to decide that she actually does want to meet me face to face rather than just use me as a house.  So come on, little baby, get this show on the road.  Your room is ready (almost), my bag is packed (sort of), and I’ve just complete one task that has propelled me about 10 minutes closer to our meeting.