He Was Waiting For a Pot Pie

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My Dear Friends--of the moustache shower--sweetly agreed to be my guinea pigs for some practice maternity photograhpy.  But we had a bit of trouble finding a good time, and didn't ultimately get to it until last weekend, three days after their official due date.

If you will recall, my Nice In-Laws were in town last weekend.  Nice Mother-In-Law made us a chicken pot pie for dinner one night, and--having extra ingredients on hand--decided to make one up for our friends, as well.  So I showed up at their house last Saturday, not only with camera in tow, but also with a lovely pot pie in hand.

We wandered around their property and took some pictures.  (Most beautiful pregnant woman evah, and that's all there is to say about that.)  And then we ended up on their front porch chatting about how she was feeling and when the baby would come and all the things you talk about when you're forty weeks and three days pregnant.  

She was handling it much more gracefully than I did, but I could tell she was getting a little frustrated at the lack of action from her small fellow.  "Not even a Braxton Hicks!"  she sighed at one point.  I tried to be encouraging, and eventually went home at about 8:30.

You will imagine my surprise when, early the next morning, Sweet Husband handed me his phone to look at a text message.  Less than twelve hours after these pictures were taken--after what sounds like it was a quick, but not scarily quick labor--Dear Friends had their baby in their arms.

The new fella's papa summed it up best, "I think he was just waiting for that pot pie."