The curtains are closed, but behind them, the stage is set for the show that's about to start. The bags are (almost) packed, stacks if diapers and boxes of wipes are stuffed in whatever space we can find, the play-yard sits at the ready, changing table set, baby clothes washed and ready for the tiny body that's going to adorn them. Everything just waiting, frozen in time for now. Like actors, we have rehearsed all our parts and know them well, we've prepared for this show for almost nine months now. And now the curtain is about to open, the show about to begin. Life about to change. Life about to begin.
I've felt for a while now that just because we have a set c-section date does not mean that we won't go into labor before then. In fact, I feel pretty certain that we will be early. So for the last few months I've had a profound need to have everything set and in order for whenever that moment may arrive. I never went into labor with E, and I have no idea what it's going to be like. I suppose the Braxton Hicks contractions I've had the last six weeks have been prepping me for that, demonstrating to me what my body is going to feel like when it's time to take the stage. And just like I would feel before a show, I am nervous. What if I forget my lines? What if I forget my blocking? What if I miss my cue? These were the things that once gave me the jitters before any show, now they sound more like What if Chris is at work? What if I don't really know I am in labor? What if we get to the hospital too late for the surgery? And like every other performance I've ever been in, I know that once I get myself out onto that stage I'll be fine. Everything that we've rehearsed the last few months will kick in and send me on auto pilot and I'll nail it.
But for now, we wait in the wings. Waiting for that "curtain" call. And we're ready.