Whenever a woman is in labor she has pain, because her hour has come; but when she gives birth to the child, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy that a child has been born into the world. John 16:21
Since this was my third birth, when I saw the positive sign on the pregnancy test I thought, oh yeah, I know how this goes... I got this. Looking back, it was a pretty silly thing to think. It turns out that I did not, in fact, "got this". Although my pregnancy held no sort of major complications, we classify it as my hardest pregnancy. Morning sickness hit me like a falling stone, my aversions were crazy (goodbye, coffee!), and I was more exhausted than I had been in previous pregnancies (I guess growing a child whilst raising three had a little bit to do with that).
When my due date came near, I did all I could to prepare for life with a newborn. Since my second baby, Isabelle, came one week before her due date, I made sure to be ready earlier rather than later. I was sure he would come at least one week early. Once we were as ready as one could be, we started playing the "predict the day" game. Would he come on my husbands birthday? No. How about St. Patrick's day? No, again. Then all of a sudden, my due date was a week away and I began to wonder whether we would be playing the waiting game all the way up until April Fools.
I came to the conclusion that I wanted him to be born two days before his due date (which was a Thursday), because you know, one can totally have control over these details. During one of my last prenatal appointments, I explained to my midwife Vicki that I had everything planned out: start labor around 5:00 pm, drop the kids off with grandma, go into the birth center around 6:00, and be home with the baby by 11 o'clock that night. We laughed about how unrealistic that timing was. My husband, on the other hand, thought Friday would be a good day to have a baby.