I think one of the most nerve-wracking parts about giving birth is knowing when you are in labor; ironically, the spontaneity of it all keeps things interesting and fun. The one thing I refuse to do is go to the hospital thinking I'm in labor, and then get sent home. (That happened with our son and I swore I'd never do it again. Talk about torture! Not to mention that all patience leaves when that happens.) With each child, I think my body has started preparing for labor earlier and earlier. Contractions (albeit mostly Braxton Hicks) start days, and even weeks before the actual time arrives. This pregnancy was no different. At about 36 weeks I went in for an appointment and my Group B Strep test, and I was dilated to 4 cm. I knew, however, that this didn't mean much. My body would hang on to this baby until the end. Benjamin was my earliest baby and he came only 6 days before his due date. I told myself that I wasn't in any rush; this baby could stay in there as long as...
If you can smile when things go wrong And say it doesn't matter, If you can laugh off cares and woe And trouble makes you fatter, If you can keep a cheerful face When all around are blue, Then have your head examined, bud, There's something wrong with you. For one thing I've arrived at: There are no ands and buts, A guy that's grinning all the time Must be completely nuts. ["Smile, Darn You, Smile," as quoted by Jeffrey R Holland, "The Will of the Father," Jan,17, 1989.]