As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I (like millions of other women) immediately (and excitedly) calculated my due date.

Baby’s due date was August 31st. I was, to be honest, a little disappointed. I checked to see if I’d made a mistake. I checked to see if there was any way I could change my due date to September 1st!

Yes. School cut-off dates. Yes. Many people thought I was (and still am) mental. No one else seemed to think that being the youngest in the class would be a disadvantage. In fact, many thought I was being a bit silly and that it didn’t matter at all. But it does matter. I’ve SEEN it in classrooms time and time again. And I found this article, which just proved my point.

As you probably read, because of some issues, I had to see a specialist early on in my pregnancy. When I saw the her, she told me that if I was going to have a c-section, it would have to be about ten days to two weeks before my due date. Not having a c-section actually didn’t cross my mind. I felt it was a matter of ‘better the devil you know’.

This made things more difficult. So I would definitely have a ‘young’ baby (it makes sense in my head) and I had to choose which day he would be born. How would I choose?

I spent the next few months annoying the hell out of LagosDad. Which date would we choose? Would it be a ‘good’ day? Etc. The one date that I was thinking about didn’t thrill me much as we know many children with the same birthday.

Having the baby in Dubai didn’t happen (a good thing, I think) and I saw my consultant in London at thirty weeks. I told him that I really wanted to have a September baby. He knew why immediately. He suggested just waiting to see what happened. He said we’d schedule the c-section for September 1st, unless I went into labour before, of course.

I was ecstatic. I was in with a chance of having a September baby!

I reported this latest piece of news to my parents and my in laws. Forgetting that they don’t actually give a crap and that having a September baby isn’t all that important to them. Instead my mother-in-law gave me a list of (August) dates which were ‘meant to be very lucky’. And told me that the first few days in September were very unlucky. I was livid – combine that with raging hormones and… Well you wouldn’t have wanted to see me.

My mum was in India at the time. I asked her to PLEASE go and see our pundit (priest) and ask him if there was any truth in what my mother-in-law was saying.

I’d like to say that I don’t believe in all this lucky and unlucky nonsense, but the fact of the matter is that if I can do something that may be better for my children, then I will – even if it’s reluctantly! Also, sometimes my mother-in-law’s facts need double-checking.

Anyway, so my mum came back to me to say she (my mil) was right (damn!) and that September 1st would be ok as long as it was before mid-day. Relief. I was scheduled for 8 am.

Everything was back on track. Unless I went into labour before.

On the 29th of August I was feeling like hell. My legs hurt. My head hurt. I didn’t want to move or go anywhere or do anything. I just wanted to sit in front of the television with a pile of Magnum ice creams (only the Classic kind). I went to bed early and felt much better on the 30th.

That day (the 30th), LagosDad and I went to the Lindo Wing for some blood tests. Then we went out for lunch and to run one or two errands. The next day was my due date, but this baby was going to stay in until September 1st!

Alas, I was wrong.

Lots of (possibly unwanted and too much) information coming your way now – so you may not want to read any more.

I woke up on the 31st morning and needed to pee (for the millionth time). And I saw that I was bleeding. I knew I’d bleed a bit, but I didn’t realise it would be quite that much. I nearly had a breakdown (in private). My first thought (and I’ve not told anyone this) was that there was something wrong with my baby. All I could think about was the bleeding at the beginning of the pregnancy. Once I snapped out of it, I figured that my waters had broken.

I woke LagosDad and my mum. I rang the hospital to tell them I was coming in. And it was during that conversation that I realised that my waters hadn’t broken before. I knew that because they broke during the phone conversation!

I was a little concerned about a few things. All my fault for leaving it so late – but I was going to shave my legs and have my bikini line done, as well as get a mani and pedi that day. I even thought I’d try and fit in a blow dry!

How could I go to the hospital and have people see me when I hadn’t ‘groomed’ myself?! I was so embarrassed! Apparently, according to the midwives, they’d seen worse – so I was ok. Phew.

They monitored baby’s heart rate and everything was fine. My consultant came in to see me and said we could still wait and see what happened.

It was about half past eight in the morning. How long did he think I was going to wait? I hadn’t had any contractions. I didn’t feel anything really.

So I decided, if the baby wanted to come that day, he was coming. Whether we I liked it or not. And I told the doctor to take him out.

Vinay was born by emergency c-section on his due date. Everything happened fast that day. People were rushing around. With Varun, it was very different. Everyone was so relaxed and laid back. I found myself wondering why it was all taking so long and trying not to twiddle my thumbs (in between bouts of throwing up because of the anaesthetic).

Once he was born (9.41 am), my mum and my in laws all said that he was born on a very, very lucky day. It was Ganesh Chaturthi. I had to accept that this was a good thing!

One thing though… And I asked LagosDad about this… See he, his brother and his dad all have terrible time-keeping skills. What’s worse than terrible? Whatever it is – it’s worse. So what I wanted to know is, if all three of them are ridiculously late for everything, how come both his sons arrived right on time?