I was 9 months pregnant, the week of my due date, with my first baby. I was scheduled to be a reader at our friends’ wedding. They nicely asked if maybe someone else should fill in but I was determined to be there.

We went to the rehearsal dinner on Friday night.

We went to the wedding Saturday – a long Catholic mass during which I had to go to the bathroom and gave some guests a scare.

We went to the reception and stayed late celebrating with friends, of which maybe only one other couple had babies.

We went home and went to bed. A few hours later my contractions started and another hour later I woke my husband.

Another hour or two later, and a quick stop at a CVS for some last minute snacks and magazines, and we were checked into the hospital in the early morning.

It wasn’t until 9pm that night that our son was born.

After some complications, an epidural, my husband eating beloved Jimmy John’s in front of me (a running joke), he entered the world. I couldn’t believe the experience.

A few days early and 17 hours of labor later, I officially became a mom.