Cue the Uncertainty

There was no light coming through the bare blinds this morning, for the sun had yet to begin it's climb into and across the sky. I somehow managed to hoist myself and this gigantic stomach from one side of the bed to the other. I closed my eyes. Oh how I longed to go back to sleep, to stockpile sleepy hours while possible! But my mind raced as it so often does at 3 o'clock in the morning.
Tasks to complete.
My thoughts bounced from one thing to another. Sleep, I thought, will surly elude me for the rest of the morning.

It didn't.
But sleep did not come until I had thought long and hard about uncertainty. Questioning myself is nothing new; I do it every single day. I'm the queen of wishy-washy. But this was different. This type of uncertainty was so real, so deep, so scary.

Am I ready to be a mom?
Can I give LC everything she needs?
How will I know when to go to the hospital?
How am I ever going to get through labor?

So many questions.
My thoughts lapsed back to this weekend and an episode I will never forget.

It was a hot, Friday afternoon. My ever-present need to be doing something had taken over, and I had gone out into the garage to clean it up. I walked out to put some items in the trashcan when suddenly, a blazing pain came over me -the epicenter directly beneath my bellybutton. Immediately, my mind went to LC - had I done something to her? Did I tear something? Was this labor? 

I ran back to the garage where Adam was, all the while I was holding my painful belly, jumping up and down, and shouting "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!" Poor Adam had no idea what was going on - was I in labor? I somehow managed to squeak out the details that I thought I had been stung, but he saw no mark. The pain kept coming. The tears started flowing. 

Before I knew it, Adam had steered me to the bed and was urging me to lie down. Reluctantly, I did. He walked out to get some ice, but I bounced right back up off the bed. The pain was too much. I had to move. Tears streaming down my face, pain from the terrible sting, and an intense Braxton Hicks contraction. Adam couldn't get me to calm down, lay down, or stop crying. 

With ice and some medication, I settled down but whined about it for the rest of the day. 

In retrospect, it was a pretty funny situation. But if I was that torn up over a sting, how will I ever be able to handle childbirth? Uncertainty at its best.

There are, however, a great many things of which I am certain.
An amazing, supportive husband who'll be amazing.
Eager family members who'll do just about anything for us.
LC is coming out one way or another.
Labor will undoubtedly be worse than a wasp sting.


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