Zen and 3 a.m.

There comes a time in many challenging situations where we realize that maybe, just maybe, we aren’t quite as zen about something as we might have hoped.

For me, that time was about 3:00 this morning.

It’s been nine days since I started having the usual early labor signs. Nine days since I started thinking, all right, let’s do this. 

I’ve never done this before, this whole labour thing. I know all the terms – all the normals and typicals and what-to-expects – but I’ve never experienced them firsthand. 10 days ago, all I wanted was to experience them firsthand.

At 11:00 last night, I turned the corner from ooh, look at my body, doing all this good preparation! to hmm, I wonder if this is actually it… I’d had more can’t-miss signs of early labour during the day and last night there was a full moon and today is my dad’s birthday and it seemed like all of that was conspiring to make today the day.

Today is not the day.

At least not so far. Between 11 p.m. and 12:30 my belly squeezed and I dozed. At 12:30 the occupancy of my bed was increased by a factor of four when my husband came in with a small eye-infected child who needed cuddles and one dog. My family, I thought, as they all quickly fell asleep.

By 1:30 the intensity and frequency of the contractions were hard to ignore and I started trying to get my sleeping family members to move away from me. A small boy’s knees in my back? Not comfortable. A dog who runs and squeaks in his sleep? Not helping. A husband who was sound asleep? Leave him, I thought. If this is it there’s no point both of us being tired.

By 2 a.m. I was at the holy crap, this is uncomfortable stage and I’d started cracking one eye open to check the clock. From 10-minute intervals down to six-minute intervals. Is this it? This hurts but I can’t tell if this is really it.

It wasn’t it.

At 3 a.m. I abandoned the family bed and went to sleep in my son’s room where I at least had a little bit more space. The contractions continued – just rip my insides out and be done with it already! – and I decided to stop looking at the clock. I lay there in the dark, the glow from his little-kid clock shining around the corners of the bedside table I’d tried to hide it under, and wondered about this whole process.

How do you know when it’s really time?

How long can this go on for?

If this is the beginning then it’s going to get worse and, frankly, that’s going to suck.

I’m living up in my head with this – breathe, remember to breathe – but my head doesn’t get to control this. My head needs to stop worrying about it and trust that it will happen when the time is right and I will know what to do and everything else just really doesn’t matter so much anyway.

But it’s hard to find that zen at 3 a.m.

Around 3:30, in the dark, facing away from the clock and with my son’s stuffed penguin lying next to me, I let it go. I acknowledged the zen and embraced it and slept.

Until 5:30, at least, when the contractions woke me up again.

Maybe tomorrow will be the day.