I am checking my watch (because in the olden days, there were no brightly lit cell phone screens to scream the time) every five minutes, convinced that the pressure I am feeling is my first child, making her way into our world. I question everyone around me, not sure I even know what to expect with labor. They all give me varying ideas, and so I convince myself this is it. I expect more fanfare- flags, trumpets, a baffled and eager husband to leave me stranded in my driveway a la She's Having a Baby, but business goes on as usual, and eventually the contractions go away. My work phone still rings, I still answer it, and another day passes with no infant to bring home. Each day is a mystery, not knowing how it will end. Perhaps I will go home and eat a burrito, or perhaps I will squeeze a newborn through my loins. I get butterflies every time I feel a contraction, I have a bag packed. And then repacked. And then packed again. I have utter conviction that I will do it all naturally,