D-Day

It is now 12:30 in the A.M. on February 4, 2006. For the past nine months, this date has been regarded as more than a day, more than a holiday even—it has been the focal point of all days preceding it.

The question now is, will Charlotte join the rare elitist 5% of women who actually deliver on their due dates?

I don't mean to cry "wolf" or else be the harbinger of false alarms, but Charlotte's contractions have been stronger and more frequent throughout the day. In fact for the preceding hour, they have consistently been spaced about 6-7 minutes apart.

Timing the contractions wearing a bit thin, Charlotte just propped her feet up in the recliner and said she'll wait for the fabled pain that has been bantered about so often by random female passersby and other experienced mothers.

Bring it on, she said as she lay back and closes her eyes.

And I think back to our doctor visit last Tuesday and try to piece together meaning from his vaugeness and lack of conjecture about how soon we may expect.

All women are different, he says, the babies just come when they're ready. Could be tomorrow or you may have to wait until induction, he says.

In my heart I know this was the answer, but I wanted to hear something more concrete that I could wrap my brain around until then.

We'll just have to wait and see, he tacks on as he exits the examination room.

I know, I know.

It's same thing I've told myself everyday since I've found out about this baby.

Patience is a virtue, yada yada yada...