There are some things in life for which one must wait. Miss Vee’s entrance into this world, just before midnight on the 25th of February, at 41w2d, was one of these.

Waiting is impossible when you are ready for something to end, and even more impossible when waiting for something better to begin.

The potted hyacinths in our bedroom were purchased and replaced four times over. The irony of watching forced bulbs grow, bloom with the promise of Spring, and then wither while waiting for her birth was not lost on me. There is only so much you can do to force the narcissus — in the end, you must still wait for the bud to open.

I would like to say I could write up a detailed birth story for her, but the truth is I can’t.

Miss Vee

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Today I am 40 weeks and 3 days pregnant with my 4th child. It was never supposed to get to this point. In my mind, #BabyTheLast was supposed to scribble an “I wuz here” on the uterus wall and make her escape around 38 weeks.

Alas, she seems to prefer hanging out on the inside when I’d much rather have her on the outside.

Babies can be so inconsiderate.

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Warning: this post is a bit of a bummer.

According to my favourite due date calculator, I am 38 weeks and 4 days pregnant today. This is the final part of the final stretch.

30 weeks

The thing is, I wish this stretch was over already.

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In the last few days before a birth it feels as though the world is holding its breath. Everything around me is muted, like a city sleeping under a heavy snowfall, like 3am — the sounds and colours and movement are there, but slowed, quieted, muffled. The world waiting for a bringing forth, like bulbs thrusting through the cold, barren earth in early Spring.

In the final hours of preparation, I am pulled into myself…

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