My guesses for when I would go into labor were/are October 4 or October 9. So yesterday I was certain if anyone was going to the hospital, it was going to be me.
I was wrong.
We finished dinner. (Tacos, on what was, coincidentally, National Taco Day). Cory cleaned up the kitchen and mowed the yard while Colette and I blew bubbles on the front porch. Then Cory and Colette set off to the park at the school down the street from us. I stayed home and thought I’d take a quick shower before they got back. I no sooner stepped into the shower and put my head under the water, then heard Cory come back in and call my name.
He carried a tearful and bloodied Colette into the bathroom. The playground isn’t the newest, non-rusty, and most safe network of equipment known to man. There’s little lips of pulled out metal in places and sharp edges galore. Colette fell back and hit her head on one of those edges.
So we loaded up and made our inaugural trip to Children’s. Colette was still a little tearful when we got in the car, but we turned on some princess music and I sat in the back with her and we just talked to her to distract her.
Her mood was much more light when we got to the emergency department. Lots of pretty paintings and Disney characters to look at. We were taken back pretty quickly and she did need 3 little stitches (or band-aid strings, as the nurses called them).
She did so well. No more tears once we got there and sat so still when they were putting the stitches in.
She was especially excited when everything was said and done and she got a delicious grape popsicle.
We’re really exercising our insurance policy these days. If that wasn’t enough to send me into labor, I think it might never happen.
Pretty much everyone I know that was due this week (3 of them, all second babies, all the same gender as their older sibling) has already had their little ones. It’s my turn, right? Right?!?!