The Last Day

Did I mention that the OBGYN that replaced doctor Lal one week said to me "Waiting for labour is cruel. It's like telling someone that they are going to have their hands slammed in a car door but not giving them a date or time." I agreed. You don't know when labour is going to hit. Or where. I didn't know for example, that I would go in to labour just a few hours after this last pregnant picture of me was taken.  I am glad I took it now but at the time, although I look quite happy, I was dying for the pregnancy to be over. I wanted Bronson out and I wanted him out NOW.   So yes, waiting for labour is like being told you are going to have your hands slammed in the door but as bad as the pain gets, it delivers the most precious of prizes. 

p.s. you can see a tiny bit of my tattoo-- the tattoo that my parents didn't know existed until I got busted after feeding Bronson. I neglected to pull my shirt down entirely and my father spotted it. His eyes nearly fell out of their sockets.  Here is how the conversation went:

Dad: "what the hell is that on your stomachÉ"
Me: "stretch marks!".
Dad: "I thought it was a chinese tattoo!"
Me (now laughing): "It is a tattoo."
Dad (said with a disapproving tone): "Oh, that's nice." 


I fully expected that they would learn the truth because my mother was present at Bronson`s birth. I guess that`s why I thought it particularly funny that they should find out this way. My mother was apparently busy looking somewhere else and didn`t spot it during delivery. Go figure. Oh well, the cat`s out of the bag now.