Twelve years and three days ago the sun went down on the day this baby was predicted to come. I just fell apart. A late baby? Not me, pleeease not me. We lived in Melbourne, Australia at the time and we awoke the next day to a transit strike. We had no car - there were no trains - there were no buses. The taxis that remained were impossible to get. And the soon -to-be PickleBoy's dad left for work. Then at 11:00 am I felt the undeniable and electrical 'ping' that meant this contraction is different. I made my phone calls - first the husband, then a message to the midwife, then the dear friends who had convinced us to have the baby at their home in their big oval tub. I went through the first hour of labor alone and in a slightly controlled panic. He had no way to get home - this baby who we had tentatively named Tallulah - completely convinced he was a 'she' - was coming fast.
And then everything fell into place. One of the then-husband's accounts dropped in unexpectedly at his work and offered him a ride home, my midwife checked her messages and raced our way, then the three of us had a precarious contraction-filled ride to our final destination. The tub was filling as we entered, my water broke and I got into that much bigger and beautiful body of water and got to the hardest work my body will ever do. Then at 3:38pm this baby came up into the world and changed my life forever. Lucky, hardworking me with a four and a half hour labor from start to finish. From full dialation to birth in 12 minutes and then 'she' was here. In my undrugged stupor I said "but she has a penis"! He was Baby X for a week since we hadn't even considered boy names.
He became Riley.
He became my greatest joy.
And as my dear friend Beth said yesterday, "This world is a far better place because he is in it."