I should probably mention that I hesitate to even think this, let alone write this out of fear of jinxing anything. Of course, that would make you assume I believe in jinxes and even I'm not sure if that's accurate, so I guess I'll just get on with it already. Monday was Labor Day. To most Americans, that means a day of barbeques and the traditional end of summer under the guise of celebrating the "working man" among us. To me, it was one of a slew of days that I'm hoping are "No Labor Days."
No, I'm not opposed to working. I actually spend more time doing it than pretty much anything, though you'd never know it from the results I've produced lately. But today, as Mrs. Dude is late in her 30-something week of pregnancy, I am hoping for a day without labor. A day without contractions and any of the other messy stuff that precedes the birth of a baby.
We are doing everything we can to get ourselves, our home and our 2 ½-year-old Little Dude ready for our new arrival. But time is running short. We have a C-Section scheduled for a few weeks from now. And with each new day, I hope for no labor.
(Baby #2's femur. Looks just like me.)
We were very lucky with Mrs. Dude's first pregnancy. The Little Dude was breech, so we scheduled a C-Section, drove to the hospital on the chosen date and had a baby. She never had a contraction, labor pain or anything. That was very lucky for all three of us.
But now things are different. No, she still hasn't had any contractions, thankfully. But from what I've been told, each subsequent pregnancy usually results in a) a bigger baby and b) shorter gestational period. That first option is good. The second, not so much.
We have a ton to do to get ready for Baby #2 and the Little Dude takes up the great majority of our time, so it's hard to get most of the tasks accomplished. #2 probably won't mind sleeping in a laundry basket filled with clean clothes if we don't have a bassinette ready when he comes home, will he?
Beyond the fact that we have a million little things to do, we don't want #2 to arrive early for another reason. Mrs. Dude's due date (Dude Date?) is Yom Kippur, a.k.a. the holiest day of the Jewish year. If we'd scheduled the C-Section for exactly a week earlier, then the bris (ritual circumcision) would fall on Yom Kippur. That is doable by Jewish law, and not the worst option, as most Jews will be fasting on that day so it would result in a miniscule catering bill, but it's just not enough time. We need every day we can squeeze out of this kid.
At Mrs. Dude's most recent OB appointment, I asked the doctor what we could do to prevent Mrs. Dude going into early labor. She said "if I knew that, I wouldn't be here." Then she followed that up with a little more helpful advice: "Don't have sex." Um, whatever you say, doc.
Whenever #2 arrives, we'll be lucky and thankful. He's already almost 8 lbs., so we are looking at a big boy. And I can hardly wait. Until the scheduled C-Section date. And hopefully not a moment sooner.
HuffPost Parents offers a daily dose of personal stories, helpful advice and comedic takes on what it’s like to raise kids today. Learn more