It was a regular Saturday, I had the usual Bible study with Annie, YT and Cherry on John 10. The pregnancy was heavy at 37 weeks plus. I joked with the girls how I wanted Miss Deng to arrive asap although Mister wanted her to stay put in me for awhile more. I joked about wanting to have the right to “lay her down and take her up” (referenced to John 10:18), rather than waddle around with her in me.
When we were done with the Bible study we headed to have a dinner at a Bavarian restaurant for some pork knuckles. The restaurant manager said he had never seen four girls finish the platter of meat we ordered before and we joked we were 4+1, with Miss Deng in me.
Looks innocent but we really struggled to finish this. Years of watching my food intake to “stay slim” has made me reluctant to let go and indulge in food but that reservation bit by bit has gone out the window since marriage and pregnancy. So I had a real go at the meat on Saturday night with a tiny sense of mortification at the back of my head, effectively silenced.
While everyone was lamenting how stuffed they felt, I was feeling nimble and only just satisfied.
Went to bed thinking how I would never have allowed myself to eat that much and sleep contentedly after when I was single.
And then. A few hours later I felt an unfamiliar feeling. It came and went. A few hours it came again. In my sleep I realised it was contractions. But I was still two weeks away from the expected due date. It felt too surreal to actually meet Miss Deng so I brushed it aside.
When morning came, there was a flurry of checks if it was just indigestion, false contractions or actual contractions. I felt certain it was contractions but I didn’t want to go to the hospital to confirm it and wait there until it was time for labour. So we stayed home to rest until I was ready.
24 hours later, at 1.20am, after a day of suffering irregular contractions, I was pretty certain the pain had intensified and was about time to head to the hospital.