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Monica Bielanko
A chronicle since 2005 of my marriage & move to Brooklyn in my twenties; becoming a mother in my thirties; moving to Pennsylvania and learning to amicably coparent after divorce in my forties while living 3 doors down from my ex-husband in a small country town.
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Saturday
Jan172009

Like Watching Water Boil

I feel as if I should write something profound. To mark the end of life as I know it, I suppose. Life as WE know it, actually. Everything is about to change and we're excited, to be sure... but I feel as I should mark this monumental transition in some deeply eloquent manner. A blog post, a poem, a song, sky writing, whatever. To tip my hat at what will be the biggest day of my life aside from marrying Serge and give it the respect it deserves. But I don't know what to say. This here brain done stopped working.

These past few days have been torturous. The waiting, my God, the waiting. Everything is on hold. I feel like I can't proceed with life until I have this baby. And quite honestly, I can't really do much living anyway. Just going down the stairs causes me to lose my breath and need a nap. Basically, in between episodes of House Hunters on HGTV, I wander from room to room, obsessively cleaning up after myself if I have so much as a bowl of cereal because Oh My God What If I Go Into Labor And There Is A Milky Bowl In The Sink?!

I'm having contractions regularly, which is quite literally, a pain in the ass. Because they aren't the real thing. So I sit here, dissecting every twinge, every pain... is this it? Is it finally time? What about now? Now?

My doctor doesn't want me to go too much past my due date. So, if she doesn't make her grand entrance this weekend, I have another appointment this Tuesday at which we will discuss inducement. Either way, in a week I will be a mother. Dude.