The due date.
Why can’t I just walk through that door?
I can see it. My body feels it. Baby knows it. Yet we both wait. On the precipice expecting that someone will open it for us or that the door itself might be electronically operated and just swing open of its own volition as we’ve been told it could.
Yet, most doors don’t operate that way. They require some kind of force, a type of labor. Push or pull; often the opposite to what you expect. A contrary notion of movement and physics, which the pregnant woman experiences daily.
She feels her baby bearing down – burrowing further and beginning that fated journey of separation. They’ve shared blood, DNA, circulation, heartbeats, a body these past nine months and the mother is anxious to reclaim this space as her own.
So just that gilded door stands between she and they now. Between us and us. And someone, one of the two parties, just needs to be willing to push or pull it open.
But she can help but think – Can’t I just have one more day to myself.