Almost exactly 60 hours and counting.
This planned birth thing is kind of strange. First of all, when people ask what your due date is and you tell them that the baby will be born on Friday (THIS FRIDAY) they kind of look at you strange. It's a sort of "how do you know" kind-of-look or they say "you think it is going to be Friday". The next question invariably relates to whether Marcy is being induced which naturally needs further explanation ... a longer explanation than either expected (and maybe wanted) ... Now this is okay with family, friends or co-workers but can be a little weird with the grocery store cashier clerk. So now we use self check-out.
The other weird part about the process is that it is so regimented. That is unless plans change. In other words, there will be no mad rush to the hospital. Relatives will not be dropping things and careening around the Beltway to get to the hospital on time. No chance my cellphone will ring in the middle of meeting. Perhaps most unfortunate of all, no chance for labor on the Metro with delivery conducted by a complete stranger taking instructions over a choppy cell phone connection under Washington, D.C. Marcy has probably watched "She's Having a Baby" eleven times since she found out that she was pregnant (the beauty of HBO repeating their lineup over and over again) but there is little chance I will be able to leave for the hospital on Friday without her -- a-la Kevin Bacon leaving without Elizabeth McGovern. By the way, and I am sure Marcy will disagree, this is truly a horrible movie after viewing number three.
Anyway, they tell me that the posts will get more interesting on Friday.
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