“You look about ready to pop! When are you due?” a stranger asked me one day in the checkout aisle of the supermarket near our home in Fortville.
“Oh, last Saturday,” I said, smiling.
Her eyes got big, her mouth dropped open, and she didn’t know quite what to say. I could tell she was afraid that my water would break any second and the baby would drop out, right in front of her.
“Don’t worry,” I replied. “My last three were over a week late.”