They never prep you for this part. I’ve read several parenting books. About expectations when expecting. New dad guides. Raising toddlers. Growing kids. Survival tips for middle schoolers. And not fearing teenagers.
They taught about dealing with bedtimes, developmental stages, allowing natural consequences for discipline. Even how to swaddle.
But one concept never covered is waiting. It’s there from the beginning. Always requires patience. Often involves anxiety. And never goes away. You’re always waiting for something as a parent.
Funny enough, the first wait involves urine and sticks. Then waiting for lines or plus signs to materialize. Seconds defy physics with long, plodding ticks, though your mind does the opposite, racing at blistering speed with countless hypotheticals staked on the test results. Not funny is the struggle of waiting on positive tests every month for months on end.
Then you wait nine months for the arrival. That seems lengthy, but nowhere near long enough to prepare for what’s ahead. Or finish painting the nursery and figuring out how those baby carriers transform from storage to use mode.
Unless the baby comes in a flash, delivery areas becomes waiting rooms. God bless my wife, who endured 36 hours of waiting (and contractions) before doctors opted for a C-section. Because it pales in comparison, I’m not allowed to comment on how that wait felt to me.
Toddler years involve waiting for firsts to occur: sleeps through the night (an exhausting one), words, steps, clean diapers… You keep thinking something’s wrong until each is accomplished, complicating these waits. But the biggest is waiting for them to fall asleep so you can get a break from inconsolable whining on why you can’t brush your teeth with grape jelly. Parenting is hard.
Waiting then stretches out beyond the basic necessities as kids grow.
You wait for them to follow directions. Some parents actually count aloud to mark the time until that occurs (a three-count seems to be the most common period).
You wait for them for the duration of sport practices and music lessons.
You wait for them to get ready so you can leave for somewhere.
You wait in doctors’ offices again when they’re ill. You wait for them to feel better. Sometimes the wait is painful for test results, similar to the pregnancy one, only this wait is much harder, especially when answers are potentially serious.
You wait as you drop them off at tween/early-teen gatherings before they can drive, spending these intervals at coffee shops far enough away to avoid embarrassment at being seen, but close enough so you can swoop in to evacuate them if something socially goes wrong.
You wait excruciatingly as they back a car out of the driveway, praying for them to safely return home.
Then you wait for them to eventually move out of your home, and stand on their own two feet (figuratively, as opposed to those toddler years). This wait wildly fluctuates between being too soon and not soon enough.
I imagine once they’re out on their own, you wait again. For them to call. Or drop in for Sunday dinner. These waits could last days, maybe even weeks. Until that waiting cycles back around, when they tell you their own wait for a pregnancy test is over.
I’d hope the waiting in that stage is easier. I guess I’ll have to wait and see.
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