my third baby and second daughter made her entrance 11 days past her due date at just past ten o'clock on a steamy night 22 years ago today. meg wasn't quite as late as her older brother, but she didn't meet the expectation set by my oldest, who, in a dazzling display of impeccable infant timing had been born on her due date.
most babies, as any parent, midwife or ob/gyn can tell you, are usually NOT born on their due dates. i was born 11 days past mine, my son jamie went 14 days past his. until baby jake arrived on his due date, the midwives who delivered him had never had a mother deliver on her due date, in all their years in the practice.
so although i knew that most babies DON'T arrive when expected, i knew from experience that it was possible that they COULD, and thus, twenty-two years ago this morning, i remember waking up and thinking, damnimstillpregnant.
the day proceeded like any other, until, at my now-weekly checkup, i moaned to the midwife, "i'm so ready to have this baby." i can remember how ready i was. there's a moment in every pregnancy, i think, when your body feels like an overripe fruit, swollen to the bursting point. birth is a painful experience, at least as i experienced it, but i remember how eagerly i looked forward to it that hot summer afternoon. there's nothing like hauling around a body as big as a beached whale's to make you anticipate shitting a watermelon.
to that end, my midwife obligingly stripped the membranes, and predictably, an hour or so later, while doing the weekly grocery shopping, i felt the first real contractions. i remember thinking justdon'tletmywaterbreakhere as i breathed deeply in the checkout line.
and later, when the midwife held her up, mewling like a kitten, slick with slime, blue cord pulsing, the first flush spreading across her gray-blue chest and belly, i remember how delighted i was to meet my meggie moo at last.
and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.