...there will be a baby born this weekend! That's right, we are making progress! This morning at my doctor's appointment I was all set to hear the same ol' "nothing's changed," but instead I got a very exciting "I think I will be seeing you this weekend." So maybe F will be on time after all!
Of course, we all know that doctors can be wrong about these things. My mom's classic story about she and Stella's joint visits to their OB/GYN in the winter of '79 proves this point: After both of them were told to expect their babies (AKA Sissy and I) in two weeks, Stella went home and had Sissy that night. I, on the other hand, emerged a whopping three-and-a-half weeks later, which is why I was well over 9 pounds. Let's just hope F doesn't follow suit (in both the weight and the wait).
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