Maternity Leave, Week 1

I was due to have a baby yesterday, but I still have no baby.
 
This is especially hard for me ­ a former journalist whose has been
conditioned to live according to deadlines. I feel like I just missed the
most important deadline of my life, and there's still no end in sight.
 
Every tiny twinge and cramp has me holding my breath to pay the utmost
attention in case it truly is the first contraction, but all have gone
away as quickly as they have come on.
 
Mostly, since today is Day 2 of my maternity leave, I just feel
unproductive and a little depressed. I'm a planner who carefully plotted
out the very latest date to start my leave (against the advice of
Heather, my BPA, who was absolutely certain my water would break during
an important meeting at work) to give me the most time with my son.
 
The stuffed whale that has taken up residence in the now slightly dusty
crib in the nursery that's been ready for months is a poor substitute.
 
I've been packed for the hospital for weeks now, and have included what
even I think are ridiculous items at the suggestion of several baby
websites (tennis balls inside a sock for a back massage to help with
labor pains? Like I'll even remember those are in there.). I only have to
throw my tooth and hair brushes into the bag on the way out the door, and
I'm set to go at any hour.
 
Every surface I've sat on during the month of November ­ the couch, my
bed, the car ­ has absorbent padding on it just in case I'm in that 8
percent of women whose water breaks as the first sign of labor. Both my
husband and I were convinced he'd come early ­ Brent so much so that he
chose the days of Nov. 19-21 in the baby pool he and his buddies have at
work.
 
I thought he would be early because my two close cousins who recently had
babies had them up to a week before their due dates. Plus, it seems like
Baby Mel would want more room for all of this dancing he's been doing
lately. I must say it is entertaining to lift up my shirt during these
outbursts of activity and watch my stomach roll and pop with each foot
and elbow jab. I've been told I'll miss being pregnant. While I won't
miss the constant urge to pee and uneven distribution of weight, I will
miss the dance parties.
 
But I can't even think about missing being pregnant right now because I
feel like I'm missing out on precious time with my son. I know what he
feels like. I want to know what he looks like. I want to count his fingers and toes and mentally document each new expression. I want to spend an obscene amount of time staring at him while he's sleeping. I want to feel that bond between a mother and her baby while he's nursing.
 
I want to fall in love.
 
I want to meet you soon, baby. Don't make me wait too much longer.
 
Love,
Mom