Marshall was due.
Except he wasn't "Marshall" yet, he was just a nameless baby boy kicking the hell out of me on a daily basis.
I woke up, took a few pictures of my incredibly ginormous belly, then we headed out to brunch.
I was having contractions that were uncomfortable enough that I had Jerad make my plate for me because moving more than I had to was torture.
I "knew" that the baby would be coming late so "labor" never even crossed my mind. After brunch, we took the dogs on a long walk where I had to occasionally stop for a contraction. While we were on our walk I think we had about 5 phone calls from family and friends asking for updates. Jerad was under strict instructions not to say a word about contractions because I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up or have them calling every 5 minutes (ahem, mom and dad) wanting a status report.
After the walk Jerad bathed the dogs which was the last thing on our long list of stuff to do before the baby was born.
As the day progressed, so did the contractions. I was kind of annoyed because they were not pleasant and I thought that was just what life would be like for the next few weeks till the baby came. Then again, up until that point I'd been really comfortable and the midwife kept joking I was feeling way too good to be going into labor soon and I'd reach a point where I just wanted the baby OUT which would give my body the go ahead (I did get to that point finally... about 20 minutes before he was born).
That night before bed decided we would set up the birth tub "just in case."
Little did we know, in about 24 hours we'd be holding that little baby in our arms.