Waiting, Waiting…

It’s a peculiar emotion, feeling jealous of a cow.

As our herd starts to produce a few of its early calves, I can’t help but stare at my own very pregnant, very uncomfortable belly, anxiously counting down the days until Baby Cwach makes his arrival on the farm and wishing I, too, could speed up my delivery date.

But alas, babies are born when they are good and ready, and not a minute before. And I’m reminded of the injustice of this fact every morning on my way to work, when I drive by our fields and count the adorable new baby calves that have been springing up over the past week, already here ahead of schedule and snuggled contentedly at the sides of their mothers.

These are the slightly-irrational thoughts that run through the mind of an expecting farmer’s wife when the timing of one’s pregnancy aligns with the date when the bulls are released at pasture. (If you haven’t already learned, pregnancy is approached very differently on the farm!)

Now that we are within single digits of our due date, reality is settling in that a baby could be joining our family any day now – although Farmer Dan was kind enough to remind me the other morning that I could potentially go an extra 14 days past my due date, putting delivery at the end of the month- a lovely thought for any pregnant mama-to-be! But although my aching joints, tired back and swollen feet are telling me that this baby is ready to join the world, my farmer continues to (correctly) remind me that the longer our son stays inside growing and developing, the better he will eat, sleep and thrive once he finally arrives.

It’s hard to argue with that kind of reasoning. Trust me. I’ve tried.

And so, we wait. And wait. And wait some more. I silently pray that the cold front that passes through our area brings about labor the way it always seems to with livestock (no such luck for me, I’m afraid).

While we wait, my urge to clean and organize intensifies. Freezers are cleaned and filled with months’ worth of freezer meals. Our concrete storage floor is scrubbed spotless and new shelving is added to organize our stockpile of diapers that has steadily grown over the past few months. Nothing is safe from the scourge of my nesting. My farmer finds me out of bed late at night counting decks of cards, making sure all suits and numbers are accounted for (a low point I’m not particularly proud of, I must admit).

But in the midst of the chaos, I’ve also tried to soak up the last few days of alone time with my farmer and appreciate every minute I have with just him. Our lives are about to change irrevocably – a change we couldn’t be more excited about, but one that will change our relationship and lives forever.

Until that day, I will focus on the exciting days ahead of us as I drive past my still-pregnant bovine comrades, and remember that life is about to get interesting for all of us on the farm.

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