Inigo Montoya said it best.  I hate waiting.  Which is odd, really, because our whole modern life is built around providing us with “down time.”  We have developed so much technology meant to stream line our life and give us more free time.  Yet when faced with this mythical free time, most of us, myself included, are not quite sure what to do with it.

Which is what I find myself experiencing today.  This week is my due date, but after

having done this four times already, my body feels more like its been through an elephant’s gestation.  I don’t quite remember feeling like the Stay-puft Marshmallow Man about to explode on Ghostbusters, as I do this time around.  Perhaps it’s the ten years that have lapsed since the first time I carried a watermelon in my abdomen.  Or perhaps it’s the extra 20 pounds that I have gained due to all the good-bye gatherings and welcome back meals that we have enjoyed.  Either way, I feel ready to pop.

But the baby seems to have different ideas.  Considering the potential diagnosis that we were given in January that would have required a C-section at 34 weeks, I really wasn’t prepared emotionally to be pregnant this far along.  However, like my other three, this baby seems to want to enjoy the free ride as long as possible.  So, I wait.

This last week, the kids and I wrapped up their school year.  Two weeks ago we celebrated the Michael’s birthdays.  And this weekend Mike had his last night shift at the ER

(hallelujah!).  All her clothes, bedding, towels, diapers and other baby paraphernalia are laundered, folded Marie Kondo style, and put in their proper place.  The care seat is installed.  I even have my cloth wipes solution all mixed up and ready to go.  So, now would be a perfect time for her to come.

And yet, not much is happening.  A few breath-taking contractions here and there.  Lots of terrible nights of sleep.  Weird dreams.  I even “dropped” for a few days, but then she buoyed herself back up there.  She seems to be sending me a message similar to the kid in that Dr. Suess book, I Am Not Going to Get Up Today.  Only her message is loud and clear, I Am Not Going to Get Born Today.

And really, it’s not like I am in a hurry to do the whole labor and delivery thing again.  It’s not like I am eagerly anticipating the late night feedings or the all day nursing binges.  I am certainly not feeling like I am totally ready to be the mother of four children.

I should be reveling in the freedom of lying in my bed for a full 9 hours at night without anybody needing me.  I should be enjoying my day on the couch eating trail mix, re-reading the Lord of the Rings,  while my husband cares for our other three.  But instead here I am writing my first blog post in over eight months.  Suddenly, I feel like I should be studying a foreign language or enrolling in grad school.  I mean I have all this time…I must be productive!

It’s the uncertainty, really.  Just when is this event going to get started?  Tonight? Tomorrow?  Next week?  The really difficult part about waiting for me is not knowing.  I am a planner, an organizer to my bones.  I mean everyone has a bag packed by the front door in case we have to rush out in the middle of the night and the kids need to go to a friend’s house.  I like to know.

But that is not how life goes most of the time.  Especially life with little people.  So, here I sit on my couch, waiting.  And like Inigo Montoya, even though the event may be one of the most challenging duels of my life, I just want to get this thing started.  After all, the end result will be another season of adventure in this good life of ours.