The first due date was July 10 (based on my last menstrual period).
The second was July 12 (measurement #1 on an early ultrasound).
The third was July 14 (measurement #2 on an ultrasound taken the same day). We embraced the third due date for a few reasons:
- It was the latest of the three dates, and given that this is our first child (and that first babies are usually a few days late), this was the most "realistic" of the three dates.
- It was Bastille Day -- a phenomenal due date for a francophile like me.
- It was safely after the World Cup finals would be over -- a phenomenal date for a rabid soccer fan like Leo. (Remember, Uruguay qualified for the Cup for the first time in a long time. Although there were high hopes, at the beginning of the competition, Leo reminded me that it was statistically unlikely that Uruguay would make it to the end of the tournament, but did clarify that given the choice between watching Uruguay play in the final or watching me in the agony of labor, he knew where he'd rather be. Then Forlán and la Celeste did what the pundits considered impossible -- they kept advancing, until the heartbreaking deflected goal in the final seconds of the third place game on July 10.)
Attention baby: we have you surrounded. Come out with your hands up. Don't try to be a hero.After attempting to trigger labor in all of the non-medical ways possible, I've made my peace with the fact that I won't be meeting my passenger until at least Tuesday, when I'll be induced. I suppose it's just the first of many reminders that parenting means letting go of the illusion of control, timelines, and predictable outcomes. It also means being excited about the adventure, no matter how the process unfolds.