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The current events taking place remind me of a woman in labor.
First come the Braxton Hicks—the “fake” contractions.
They’re uncomfortable but bearable.
She runs to the doctor and they send her home. “It’s not time,” they tell her, and send her on her way.
She continues with her daily routines as best she can, even though it’s uncomfortable. And the “fake” contractions keep coming; some stronger than others. Still, it is not unbearable; it isn’t time—yet.
The baby is heavy, her back hurts, feet are swollen. She can only sleep in certain positions. Then her water breaks.
These are no longer Braxton Hicks these are full-blown contractions, pushing the baby down further into the vaginal canal.
Time to get in position. It’s time to labor.
But she has to wait for her cervix to dilate fully. Ten centimeters, exactly.
Collectively, we’re here, waiting for the cervix to fully dilate and thin. It’s labor time. And it is painful.
Labor and delivery is a messy process. Blood, urine, and sometimes even poop are all part of the process.
Oh, but how the beautiful life delivered is so worth all the pain. It is worth all the heaviness, burning hearts, swollen feet, and sleepless nights.
We’re all in this labor together. When it’s time to push, we have to do it collectively. Let us deliver.