I'm thinking back to one year ago tonight, eating the pumpkin tortellini at Chianti's in Beverly that is rumored to put women into labor. I didn't even have to place my order- our waitress saw me coming from a mile away and said, "I know what you came here for!" We had just been to see my OB where I was told my cervix had not budged and the baby had not dropped into my pelvis. He told me that if I went into labor, it would be unsuccessful, and that I would need a Cesarean, dashing my hopes for a natural birth. I remember sitting at dinner with Jamie, depressed and talking about how I had been so focused on my estimated due date of February 19th for so long, and here it was going to pass totally event free. I remember thinking that even if it didn't work, that at least I got to eat pumpkin tortellini with Gorgonzola cream sauce. I remember I was wearing my favorite black maternity top and jeans. It was very cold, and traffic on Cabot Street wouldn't stop for me to cross. It was our last night out together for a very long time. It was the last time my family was only two people. It was the last night of my old life. Cliche, but my last night living in black and white. It seemed like an ordinary night back then, but in remembering it... it was extraordinary.