I sat on my couch desperately wishing that the baby inside would wait a few more hours before starting to make her way out. It was two days past my due date. I had finished all of the work obligations I had commited myself to, but M still had one final to sit.
The instant he headed out the first contraction hit. We spent 9 months telling C that she had to stay put until daddy left for his last final and she really listened… (when she’s a teen I’ll regret wasting all of my ‘listen and do what I say’ vibes on her then, but at the time it was pretty helpful.)
Three hours and some 20 contractions later M walked in saying something about wanting a beer to unwind. I gave him a million dollar smile and said “don’t get too cozy honey!” Must have been endorphins or something… but I was still pretty chipper at the time.
28 hours, two trips to the hospital, three epidurals and one C section later we said hello to this: