The Last Days of Pregnancy: A Place of In-Between

Babies, Birth, Maternity, Pregnancy, Stories of Love, Sweet Words

I can’t tell you how much this article and its words mean to me. Perhaps it is the Germanic in me!
Please enjoy reading, hopefully with your favourite drink and in your favourite space. Spare a little time to connect with yourself.

The last days of pregnancy are a distinct time of in-between. It’s a tricky time for mothers, as these last few days are biological and psychological events.
Pregnant woman with sunshine on her belly in colour

She’s curled up on the couch, waiting, a ball of baby and emotions. A scrambled pile of books on pregnancy, labour, baby names, and breastfeeding … not one more word can be absorbed. The birth supplies are loaded in a laundry basket and ready for action. The freezer is filled with meals, the car seat is installed, and the camera is charged. It’s time to hurry up and wait. It’s not a comfortable place to be, but it’s necessary.

The last days of pregnancy – sometimes stretching to agonizing weeks – are a distinct place, time, event, and stage. It is a time of in-between. Neither here nor there. Your old self and your new self are balanced on the edge of a pregnancy. One foot in your old world, one foot in a new world.

Shouldn’t there be a word for this state of being, describing the time and place mothers linger, waiting to be called forward?

Germans have a word, zwischen, which means between. I’ve co-opted that word for my own obstetrical uses. When I sense the discomfort and tension of late pregnancy in my clients, I suggest that they are now in The Time of Zwischen. The time is in between, where the opening begins. Giving it a name gives it dimension, an experience closer to wonder than endurance.

I tell these beautiful, round, swollen, weepy women to go with it and be okay there. Feel it, think it, don’t push it away. Write it down, sing loudly when no one else is home, go commune with nature, or crawl into your mama’s lap so she can rub your head until you feel better. I tell their men to let go of their worry; this is an early sign of labour. I encourage them to sequester themselves if they need space, to go out if they need a distraction, and to enjoy the last hours of this life as they now know it. I try to permit them to follow the instinctual gravitational pulls at work within them, just as real and necessary as labour.

The discomforts of late pregnancy are easy to Google: painful pelvis, squished bladder, swollen ankles, leaky nipples, and weight unevenly distributed in a girth that makes scratching an itch at ankle level a feat of flexibility. “You might find yourself teary and exhausted,” says one website, “but your baby is coming soon!” Cheer up, sweetie, you’re having a baby. More messaging that what is going on is incidental and insignificant.

We don’t have reverence or relevance – or even a working understanding of the vulnerability and openness a woman experiences at this time. Our language and culture fail us. This surely explains why many women find this time so complicated and tricky. But whether we recognize it or not, these last days of pregnancy are distinct biological and psychological events essential to the birth of a mother.

We don’t scientifically understand the complex hormones that loosen her hips or her awareness. In fact, this uncomfortable time of aching is an early form of labour in which a woman begins opening her cervix and her soul. Someday, we may be able to quantify this hormonal advance – the prolactin, oxytocin, cortisol, relaxin. But it is still shrouded in mystery, and we know only how to measure thinning and dilation.

“You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you, Peter Pan. That’s where I’ll be waiting.” -Tinkerbell

I believe that this is more than biological. It is spiritual. To give birth, whether at home in a birth tub with candles and family or in a surgical suite with machines and a neonatal team, a woman must go to the place between this world and the next, to that thin membrane between here and there. To the place where life comes from, to the mystery, in order to reach over to bring forth the child that is hers. The heroic tales of Odysseus are with us each ordinary day. This round woman is not going into battle, but she is going to the edge of her being, where every resource she has will be called on to assist in this journey.

We need time and space to prepare for that journey. And somewhere, deep inside us, at a primal level, our cells, hormones, mind, and soul know this and begin the work with or without our awareness.

I call out Zwischen in prenatals as a way of offering comfort and, also, as a way of offering protection. I see how simple it is to exploit and abuse this time. A scheduled induction is seductive, promising a sense of control. Fearful and confused family can trigger a crisis of confidence. We are not a culture that waits for anything, nor are we believers in normal birth; waiting for a baby can feel like insanity. Giving this a name points her toward listening and developing her own intuition. That, in turn, is a powerful training ground for motherhood.

Today, I am waiting for a lovely new mother named Allison to call me to announce that her Zwischen has ended and labour has begun. I am on my own in between places, waiting. My opportunity to grow and open is a lovely gift she gave me in choosing me to attend her birth.

Jana Studelska, CPM/LM, is a licensed midwife practising in northern Minnesota and Wisconsin.

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