When you are pregnant, the list of things to worry about is endless. From how you will afford daycare to how you’ll manage with nighttime feedings: There’s always something to concern yourself with.
During my early pregnancies, I worried about the actual labor. Here is just some of what I had on my mind: If I go into labor and I can’t get a hold of my husband, do I call for an ambulance or try to drive myself? What if I have the baby in the mini van on the way to the hospital? If the pain becomes too intense, what will I do? Who will handle the delivery if my OB is out of town?
But at some point in pregnancy it seems like hormones or something (perhaps good old common sense) kicks in, and the freaking out subsides. Right around the 8th month. Which makes sense if you think about the response you often get when you ask a woman that far in her pregnancy how she’s doing. It’s often very similar from all women. “I feel fine; I just want it over with.” Yeah, somewhere after month six, the cuteness you wanted so badly to arrive the first trimester sort of drops off. But the tradeoff is it seems as if you are much less of a worry wart.
This definitely happened to me. With my first pregnancy, it happened when I was on the back of my husband’s Harley. It was the 100 year anniversary, and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be around for the 200-year rally. If the rally had been a few months earlier, I would have worried that the noise of the bike would have put me into labor, let alone the fact that a motorcycle, at best is made for two people, not two and a half. There is a slight possibility I was enticed to go by the cool leather biker gear, but I still think it had to be my body relaxing a bit. Emotional protection.
During my pregnancy number two, I went to Jamaica with less than three months until delivery. Honestly, my biggest concerns were what I was going to wear on the beach and how I should style my hair. Not even a thought of how the cabin pressure during flight could send me into premature labor. Or the fact that if I did go into labor I would be a few thousand miles across the pond from my own doctor.
As I recall all this, I think about a conversation I had with a guy I know whose wife is due in about six weeks. He told me that she wants to go to a haunted cornfield, but he was worried that if she became overly frightened she’ll go into labor. In the cornfield. Now the nervous side of me might think Wow, if she goes into labor in a dark cornfield, that could difficult. There will be nothing but corn and spooky pop-up characters for acres in every direction. An ambulance couldn’t get through the field, so maybe a helicopter…”
And then it dawns on me: She’s gonna be fine. What could possibly scare a woman that far into her pregnancy? By now she’s already experienced major weight gain, fatigue beyond imagination, constant stares, stretch marks, and people reaching out to touch her growing belly. A creepy cornfield can’t hold a torch to what she’s endured to this point.