Last Monday I went to the doctor and begged him to help me have this baby as soon as possible. "I really have to have him NOW so I can be recovered enough to go to church this Sunday."
He looked at me like I was insane. He was right. But I had my reasons, and he was kind enough to schedule an induction for that evening.
Today has been looming like a big looming thing. The culmination of the craziest week ever. I started it by giving birth to our third child, made my way through recovery, got pinkeye AGAIN, discovered the medication I hoped would work did not (I currently feel like I'm being stabbed in the chest with a thousand tiny knives) - and showed up to church looking slightly more sane than Gary Busey so I could see my husband bless our new baby and become a bishop.
Why yes, the timing IS crazy. Seriously, I have no idea how we survived this week - though to be fair, all I had to do today was just appear in public (doing anything in public 6 days postpartum is a big deal). I honestly don't know why I've been so panicked about today, when the husband had to do all the work, like bless the baby and do the bishop thing. And you'd think he'd be a big ball of stress - but he has been the awesomest, patient angel of a human being. I have no idea how, but I feel like the luckiest girl there is.
And mad props to WonderGirl for keeping a secret for an entire month. That's the real shocker of the whole thing.