In the middle of the night I will tap my husband gently and go “Honey, it’s time.” He’ll say “Huh, what? Time for what?” and I will smile mysteriously.

He will jump out of bed and for some reason put on his most expensive pair of shoes. Then my water will break all over them.

I will sit serenely in the living room while he races around the house getting everything together in sped-up motion. We will step out of the house and he will get in the car and peel off for the hospital, very impressed with the time he’s making until he realizes he’s left me at home. He’ll come back and sheepishly pick me up but I won’t be mad. I will just smile mysteriously some more.

Then we’ll get to the hospital and things will change. I’ll be put into a godawful hospital gown and socks and will go “Hoo hoo HEE!” as I breathe while my husband does the same. He will be proud of himself for breathing along with me but then I will grab his hand, crushing it, as I say, “You did this to me!”

“So we’re having a baby today!” the doctor will say merrily as he enters the room. I will grab his tie, pull him close, and yell “GIVE ME THE DRUGS!” while all crazy-eyed.

“It’s time to push!” the doctor will say, and I will push three times. A very clean three-month-old baby will emerge. We will bond instantly and I will know exactly what to do.

My husband will arrive right after he’s done pacing in the waiting room. “It’s a boy — and what a boy!!” he will crow, mistaking the baby’s umbilical cord for an oversized penis. We’ll all have a laugh as he hooks his thumbs through his suspenders and then passes out cigars. A sweet song will play. All my friends will come in the room and I’ll look gorgeous while just slightly disheveled.

Then I’ll get taken back to the car in a wheelchair with the baby (looking exactly as I did right before I got pregnant) and we’ll all live happily ever after.