Jude was asleep in the car seat as I pulled into the parking lot this morning. In a spot of sunshine, I would wait for him to wake up in time to make it to my stroller-mommy workout.

I listened to him breathing deeply, his fingers gripping a teething ring. As I watched his motionless face, his eyes closed so tight and his mouth open in surrendered slumber, my mind traced a random line back to the final days of my pregnancy.

It was a beautiful, whole and healthy pregnancy that I loved and would do again in a heartbeat. But those last few days of waiting were torture. You see, I had it in my head that Jude would come early (so much for motherly intuition). So when he still hadn’t come by his due date, I was angry, sad and a little worried.

In the waiting days, Jason and I did all sorts of things – some crazy, some sane – to pass the time. We made rosaries and painted model cars. We took walks. We blew up an air mattress and slept in the living room with all the windows open for nearly three weeks. We watched movies and ordered gluten-free pizzas. We did our best to keep our minds off the waiting, but as each day passed without a sign of Jude’s arrival, I couldn’t ignore the growing ache.

I knew I couldn’t be pregnant forever, but as 41 weeks of pregnancy came and went, I began to wonder if I may be the world’s first perpetually pregnant woman.

For me, Advent is something like that. There’s so much promise. So much beauty. So much good just on the horizon. But it can seem to stretch on and on and on as we wait for what’s coming. And we really don’t know exactly what’s coming. We think we know. But we really don’t. And no one can tell us entirely. We just have to wait. And see. And we do all sorts of things – some crazy, some sane – to pass the time.

But there will be a birth. There must be. We – all of us – and creation cannot groan forever.

Tags: advent, birth, pregnancy  |  Posted under just a word...  |    No Comments