I recently heard about a friend-of-a-friend who had an emergency c-section several weeks before her due date. She’s a grad student in New York and her partner works in Ohio, so her plan was apparently to fly to Ohio FIVE DAYS before her due date. You know, to give birth. FIVE DAYS. I’m sure she had her reasons, but… FIVE DAYS. That’s CRAZY PERSON stuff, right? Because due dates are pretty much meaningless, right?
So there I was, thinking what an insane plan this chick had, when I suddenly realized: I’m three weeks from full term. While I’ve got a diaper or two and a carseat, so am tooooooootally ready for a new baby, I have shitloads of work-work that I keep putting off. Every week I look at my list and think eh, this week is so full of appointments and meetings, I’ll just focus on these big, intellectually-demanding items NEXT week. BUT OH SHIT, there might not BE a next week!
Uh, not in the sense that the whole world might come to an end, but in the sense that I might run out of semester muuuuch sooner than I am imagining. I think the whole planned c-section thing leads to a certain inappropriate comfort with the notion that I will actually deliver as planned. Thanks, crazy lady, for reminding me that babies can come early.