When a person can barely walk, has to be manually rolled over, moans all day, attends weekly doctor visits, and can’t think straight, the usual protocol is to call a family meeting and arrange for home-health care, convalescent care, or some other form of involvement. It’s just the right thing to do.

But when these are just pregnancy symptoms, somehow standard protocol is overlooked. Ignored. In fact, not only is nobody rubbing my swollen ankles and feeding me mushy food, but they’re hounding my phone at the same rate as telemarketers.

Me: Hello?

Other Person: You haven’t had that baby yet?!

Me: Who is this again?

I feel like a watched circus animal who is unable to perform her tricks. I must need more treats. We all know that a watched pot doesn’t boil. It hasn’t escaped my notice that the original due date has come and gone, my husband’s mid-February prediction passed, and the adjusted due date occurs this week. I’ve never gone past my due date, but apparently, this baby didn’t get the memo.

Everything has a time. Ecclesiastes 8:6 says, “For there is a proper time and procedure for every matter, though a man’s misery weighs heavily upon him.” He orders all things perfectly. Even the delivery of baby memos.