I am Having a Baby, Like, Tomorrow

No, not really. Probably in 2-6 weeks. But still. That's CRAZY soon! I am 35 weeks pregnant as of today. Two weeks short of full term. Six weeks short of the time I'd be medically induced if I didn't give birth on my own.

The beh-beh is coming.

Am I ready? No.

Am I excited? Yes. SUPER yes.

Is the nursery (mostly) finished? Yes.

Do I have any idea what I'm in for in 2-6 short weeks? No.

I'm working on a sermon right now about new birth. About the story of Nicodemus from John 3. About what it means that God offers us new birth through Christ. Nicodemus is in a bit of a tizzy about what this whole "new birth" thing means.

"How can a full-grown man enter once more into his mother's womb and be born again?" he asks. Such a literalist.

Jesus patiently redirects Nicodemus's question, telling him, "The wind blows wherever it wants."

I've been continually struck by how unpredictable birth is. Though, as our childbirth class instructor told my husband and I, "all babies come out, one way or another," when and how they come out is an entirely unpredictable matter.

It's incredible and beautiful that in an age where so many things are controlled and regulated, babies still come when they come. Thursday, Friday, holidays, weekends, 11pm or 4am. We cannot schedule them (well, we shouldn't schedule them, at least unless medically necessary).

I fought this idea for awhile. I'm a bit of a control freak. I like to know when things will happen and how. Birth isn't like that. I may be in for a 36-hour labor. I may be in for an 8-hour labor. I may have the baby in a hospital elevator, though I realize this is quite unlikely.

I may make it to our next board of elders meeting at church. I may be on maternity leave by then. This is hard to plan for, and impossible to predict.

Yet this is how God works, isn't it? We don't get a time-and-date stamp. Spiritual growth happens slowly, step by step, or all at once in a flood of grace.

As my husband and I wait for this little one to come into the world, we've been surprised at our own capacity for expectant joy. The day is nearly here, but in the interim we're learning to cherish these last quiet moments--reading books before turning off the bedside lamp, enjoying quiet morning prayer, giving the cats extra attention, having a leisurely dinner together, going to a movie. Each moment has taken on special significance because we know how different things will soon be.

We've been married for over five years. They've been incredible years. And we're on the cusp of a great new beginning. But for now, for the next two or three or five or six weeks, we can only wait and marvel and pray and rejoice.

Beh-beh is coming.

I can't wait.