What to Do on Your Due Date?

"When is your baby due?" asked the elderly, tweed-wearing cross-word worker at the coffee shop this morning. The answer: Today.

After we obtained our iced mochas, Thomas More drove my silent and thoughtful self home and left me to my own devices in a big empty house. How surreal. It is cloudy cool today and very still. After a huge wind storm last night almost nothing is moving outside. Inside, I stare at the glowing screen, sip my cold coffee and...what do I do now?

What DOES one do on one's Due Date?? Yesterday, in a fit of good intentions, I went with the husband to the workout room, thinking "who knows when I'll be able to go to the workout room again?" Bad move. I spent the rest of the day with muscle pain so intense I thought I might be in labor. Not labor. Just treadmill, which doesn't mix so well with 39.9 week pregnant body. So working out (walking at all) is not in my plans for the day. Other ideas include:

1. Wash the dog

2. Clean the bathroom (AFTER washing the dog)

3. Fill out the Birth Certificate (without name, just in case a.) child is male, b.) chosen name doesn't fit child, or c.) parents of child chicken out and decide not to use unusual chosen name)

4. Pack hospital bag (any tips?)

and last but not least

5. Pray

Any more suggestions? For those of you who have experienced a due date, what did YOU do??

A Pregnant Pause

We have come to our last week in Scotland. My emotions are mixed. Going home (home!) means full weight of responsibility, reality--the reality of a child--the end of the nurturing bubble of the university. Going back to Kansas City means going back to my own childhood, haunts and heavens, false memories and hidden memories.

Tonight in Anstruther it is raining, the flat is nearly empty, the last meal has been cooked and eaten. We have said goodbye to our friends, our favorite places. Strange--leaving, arriving.

This past month has been slow: slow writing, slow thinking, slow moving body. The seasonal warmth has come slowly to Fife. Summer is tentative--chill winds, fast moving clouds, roses as big as plates, gone in a day in the sea air. Heat comes slowly, if at all. I am slow in all things, have a difficult time being present, committing to the days as they pass. I am slow to wake up in the morning. Slower to fall asleep. I worry about the future. I don't even know what things I should worry about (as a parent) so my worry is spread thinly over everything, seeping into strange crevices. Peace. Peace. I learn peace slowly.

Lord carry me. Show me your days.