Labor is a shadowy figure. For months, it peers in your windows at night. It hides under your bed and in the closet. It’s faceless and unknowable. At times your imagination gets the best of you and your fictitious labor suddenly becomes some torturous scene from the movie Saw. And I’m just a guy. I’m not doing the heavy lifting. I can’t imagine the kinds of horrors women dream up.
Unless you’re one of those
annoying people who’ve had their child’s name decided since they were twelve, chances are this may look familiar:
The third trimester. The 4th quarter. The home stretch. The pregnancy struggle is real.
Having trouble comprehending the gravity of having a child? The largeness of it? The overwhelming magnitude of it all? Start your registry. Then let’s talk.
Yes, it’s a bit of a wakeup call. All that stuff. The bottles, the bottle warmer, the car seat, the infant converter, the stroller, the crib, the humidifier, the baby monitor, diapers, diaper bags, and endlessly on into Buy Buy Baby oblivion.