I wake up slowly and the first thing that pops into my head is that I’m not only still pregnant, but I’ve seemingly grown larger overnight. As I try to extricate myself from the waterbed so I can go to the restroom, I find myself wailing, “I’m as big as a house and still no baby? Ugh! I’m so tired of being pregnant!” My husband of two years reaches over to kiss me and automatically makes the same reply he’s been making every morning, “You’re not that big and eventually this baby will come…when he’s good and ready.” He’s heard the same litany for weeks now and is inured to compassion or sympathy. He’s just as tired as I am of my final weeks of pregnancy.
These weeks haven’t been easy on anyone. I try to be sensitive to his feelings, truly I do. It aggravates me to no end that I must rely on him to put on my socks and shoes, help me sit and get up again, and dang it, get out of bed! I’m stuck between the water mattress and the side of the bed. “Honey, I hate to bother you, but can you help me out here? I can’t get out of the bed.” He looks over at me, sighs, and rises out of bed like a gazelle or something. He comes over to my side of the bed and starts laughing. I guess the sight of a whale-sized woman stuck in a waterbed is funny, but instead of laughing, I start bawling. “I’m going to be pregnant forever! I’m as big as a whale and keep getting bigger. I’m so tired of waiting! Why can’t this baby decide it’s time to be born?” My husband stops laughing and leans down to envelope me in his arms. “Babe, you’re not going to be pregnant forever. You will deliver this baby soon I’m sure. Maybe even today! Here, let me help you up, ok?” As I putter over to the restroom after I’m free of the cursed waterbed, I pat my overly large abdomen and whisper to my baby, “Ok baby, we’re ready for you, anytime to make your appearance. No pressure, but can we do it today? I can’t wait to see you!”
Winter arms are long.
Icy fingers hold too tight.
Trees start blooming, free and bright.
D. Elaine Wood-Lane
This week’s haibun prompt from https://dversepoets.com/2017/01/23/haibun-monday-29/ was to write about waiting. I’ve waited thousands of times over the years, but I can recall no impatience and discomfort more intense than waiting for my first child to arrive. Said child, a son, will be 33 in May, but I can recall instantly those final weeks of pregnancy and my frustration every morning at having to wait for him to be born.
Try your hand at writing a haibun! They are a fun challenge to mind and form. I hope you’ve enjoyed this peek into my worst “waiting” story ever. For more information and to take up the challenge, go to https://dversepoets.com/2017/01/23/haibun-monday-29/ for more information.
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