The Space Between

There is a car seat in my living room, sitting in its box—unopened.

My friend Kari, a doula and prenatal yoga teacher, has said to me that the only two things you REALLY need before the baby arrives are boobs and a car seat. 

I’ve had the first item covered for a while….so…what happens now that I have the second?

I have about nine weeks left in this pregnancy. Nine weeks to finish getting all of the other stuff I should probably have before the baby comes. Nine weeks left of getting some amount of sleep, of me spending time by myself, of time alone with just my husband. Nine weeks left where my dogs are ridiculously spoiled, of spending uninterrupted time with friends, of feeling the baby move inside of me and imagining what it will be like to finally meet him.

This is an interesting place to be—one of obsessive list-making and online shopping, of excessive amounts of baths and heating pads, of anticipation, excitement, anxiety, and even some moments of calm. It feels like standing at the edge of a deep chasm. The rest between contractions. The space between.

This entire pregnancy has been a dance between dark and light—of quickly changing emotions, of a quickly changing body. Of going from laughter to tears in a matter of seconds, from calm to worry, or from comfort to discomfort in my own body, each time wondering with a sinking feeling, “Is this just how I feel now? Is this my new normal?”

And in all reality, whatever new dark place I have encountered, it has always subsided, whether in a matter of hours, days, or weeks. I have said this before, but I think pregnancy is like normal life turned up a notch. It is life—intensified. And from what I hear, the same is true of parenting. 

So as I make my way to this particular finish line, I hold the awareness that this is just the beginning of a number of new phases, each with their own dance between dark and light. There are things I will miss about pregnancy. And as anxious I am for the tiny newborn phase of life, there are things I will miss about that, too once it’s gone. Gretchen Rubin, author of The Happiness Project, started her whole project to become happier with the realization that “…the days are long, but the years are short.” And so I continue to ride out this space between phases of life, taking it one day at a time, one moment at a time….savoring the end of this chapter before the next one rolls in, aware of the uncertainties that lie ahead of me, trusting that it will all enfold as it should.