Last night Neil had a computer gaming party with four of his friends from work. About an hour into it, I suddenly had an insane desire to organize things. So I did, and gleefully thought to myself "At last! The nesting instinct is kicking in! Maybe I'll have the baby soon!"

When I turned off the lights about 11:30 (with the computer games still going strong in the living room), I realized I was starting to have some pretty good textbook-style contractions. I cannot even describe the surge of elation that welled up as I realized that we would probably be going to the hospital sometime in the next 12 hours. I thought about getting up and quietly telling Neil that he might want to come to bed sometime soon in case we had to leave early (I didn't--I figured he needed the relaxation time with his buddies just as much). I fantasized about the car ride to the hospital through the darkened rainy streets. I planned out what Abigail would need for church tomorrow so that I could send it with her when we dropped her off with some of our friends while we went to the hospital.

I lay there for two hours, rejoicing in each little jet of pain across my abdomen and back. Sure, I was uncomfortable, but I was going to be having this baby soon...and everything was all ready. We'd even gotten Abigail's big sister gift "from" the baby earlier in the evening, the house was clean, the laundry all done, the fridge and pantry freshly stocked with groceries...I finally fell asleep secure and content in the knowledge that I was in labor and that everything looked golden.

When I woke up this morning at an abominably early hour with nary a hint of a contraction, you can imagine the evilness of my mood. Fortunately it's Sunday and Neil is home to comfort me and we'll be going to church, which always helps to make me feel better (unless, of course, I go to find out that women with due dates later than mine had their babies this week), but man, there should be a rule that if you have contractions and they stop, medical staff will induce you anyway out of pity. That would be my rule if I was the one doling out the Pitocin.