It looks like labor is getting started, for which I am very grateful - I did not want to be pregnant another couple of weeks.
I always experience some trepidation approaching labor and delivery - that prayer that neither the baby nor I will end up as a negative statistic. It's not the idea of dying myself that bothers me, because whenever that happens it is going to be an adventure. No, it's the idea of having to leave my husband and children behind. I know God doesn't need me around to make sure my kids grow up to follow Him, or to be healthy and well-adjusted - and I sure do appreciate having been given the gift of marriage and motherhood, two things I never expected out of life when I was a young woman still deep in the throes of depression and doubt. So, I try to set aside the fears an active imagination brings to mind, reminding myself that no matter how long this gift is mine to hold on to, it is a greater gift than I ever expected, and has been a greater source of joy than I ever thought possible. I cherish the years I've spent with my husband and the children we've brought into the world together. I'm praying our newest child makes his or her way into my arms safely (and soon!)