I was absolutely, positively, 95% sure that Australis would be an October baby. In fact, I was *so* sure that I basically disregarded my “true” due date, which is today — November 5th.
Instead, when asked about our baby timeline, I confidently asserted, “We’re due right around Halloween.” And when I said that, I was really thinking, “I’m definitely going to have a baby by Halloween.” After all, Borealis was born eleven days early (after two days of labor, no less). It seemed reasonable to expect that his sister would err on the early side, as well.
And, if not for my compulsive need to make plans, this expectation would have remained “reasonable”. However, sometime this summer, I decided that it would be a good idea to host a Halloween party to introduce Australis to our friends.
This plan seemed like a great idea in July, when I announced it to Taylor. I explained that a single party would eliminate the need to plan individual meet-and-greets, which we had done for Bo. Not only would this simplify our postpartum schedule, but it would also drastically reduce the number of times we would need to clean the house in preparation for company. Plus, if our baby didn’t arrive before the 31st, then we would just host a regular Halloween party, sans newborn.
The party still seemed like a great idea in early October, when I made and sent out digital invitations. (Admittedly, I was a bit disheartened to discover that most people assumed my arduously handwritten invitation was simply printed in an unusual font.) Our guests were invited to our “first (and last) annual Halloween party ~ and hopefully~ baby introduction!” — so, at least I set low expectations.
The party even seemed like a good idea in mid-October, when I arranged for a deep cleaning of my house in advance of the gathering. [Note: This service was generously funded by the women in my Bible study, who wanted to pamper me but were unable to navigate through my draconian proscriptions on baby clothes and/or gear. After shooting down all the traditional new-baby gifts, I suggested cleaning instead.]
The last point at which the party seemed like a good idea was the weekend of October 25-27, which was the date range in which I was sure that our baby would make her appearance. Since we had been caught so flat-footed by Bo’s early arrival, Taylor and I had resolved to complete our to-do lists by October 24th — twelve days before my due date. My husband did an admirable job of following through on this plan. His list, which included such things as “finish converting hallway wall into half wall” and ”order and replace iPhone camera assembly”, was conspicuously complete by our goal date. (My list was, in contrast, *mostly* complete.)
So, starting that Thursday afternoon, I planned to hole up in my house until I went into labor. The announcement of several winter storm warnings that weekend was even more incentive to stay inside. Taylor raced home from work on Friday afternoon, and then we… waited. And waited, and waited. Alas. No baby in sight.
By Sunday morning, I realized that my intuition had been mistaken. Since labor typically starts at night, we had already passed the probable window for “giving birth the weekend of October 25-27”. I was extremely disappointed— both because I desperately want to meet my daughter and because I’m not usually wrong when I have such a strong feeling about the future.
But, I’m not God, and I can’t *actually* see the future. As disappointing as it may have been, this experience served as a timely reminder and as a good check on my ever-ballooning pride. Ah, well. “It is not for you to know times or seasons which the Father has put in His own authority”(Acts 1:7, NKJV).
The Halloween party started to feel like a not-so-good idea on Monday morning. I had scheduled my 39-week appointment with the expectation that it would be rendered obsolete by the early arrival of my child. Since my expectation had not come to pass, I had to walk into our birth center and promptly recant my earlier predictions. (Thankfully, the midwives quite graciously accepted my admission of defeat/culpability.)
The party felt like a kinda bad idea on Tuesday morning, when the cleaning service texted to cancel due to the impassability of Golden’s icy roads. Suddenly, the obligation of deep cleaning my house was now very personal, and for the following two days, Taylor and I were whirling dervishes of bleach, Lysol, and Windex. [Note: My mother and several of our friends also assisted with this cleaning burden.]
The party felt like a distinctly bad idea on Thursday morning, less than twelve hours before our gathering. I had woken up with no signs of labor, and we were now sure that our Halloween-and-baby-introduction party would now be a Halloween-but-no-baby party. I was extremely embarrassed to host so many people to whom I had confidently professed, “Oh, we’ll definitely have a baby by then.” I didn’t look forward to publicly admitting that I was wrong.
As Thursday night approached, Taylor returned home from work and assisted with my last-minute preparations, including food and decor. Right before our friends were set to arrive, I donned a green dress and green makeup in an outfit that barely passed for “a snake that swallowed an egg”. We stuffed Bo into a Tigger suit. [Note: Our toddler overheated so rapidly that we soon let him run around in just a diaper until bedtime.] And Taylor? Well, true to character, he refused to dress up. Such an engineer.
Then, one by one, our guests began to arrive, something really wonderful happened. No, I didn’t go into labor — although, I think about half of our guests were hoping for that eventuality. Rather, the Halloween party started to feel like a good idea again. Each of our friends brought with them festive moods, delicious foods, and forgiving attitudes. No one resented me for continuing to carry around my second child in utero. Instead, everyone was really delightful and supportive — you know, just like friends are supposed to be.
The party went by in a blur, and by the time our last guest left around 10:30pm, Taylor and I were exhausted. We started a load in the dishwasher, then quickly retreated to bed.
As we lay in the dark, Taylor tried to cuddle me, then gave up when he couldn’t effectively curve around my belly.
“I guess we won’t have a Halloween baby after all,” he sighed.
“No,” I admitted. “I guess not. But, you know, a November baby is just as wonderful as an October baby, right?”
Taylor: <grunts in assent>
So, dear reader, all that’s left to do is wait — for God’s timing and for our baby’s timing.
Here’s to hoping that timing is today! (Well, maybe tonight, at least.)
Such a great article! And fun idea for costumes!
I’ll add “costume extraordinaire” to my resume. 😉