Of course this is totally natural and well within normal limits. It even runs in the family. My brother and I took our sweet time appearing. My daughter herself arrived five days after her official due date. So the fact that 30 seconds from me typing this starts the fifth day after due date for the next Smith is as expected as anything like this could be. Doesn't make waiting any more fun. I catch myself quoting (out loud when I'm alone; in my head when I'm not) Holly Hunter from Raising Arizona, "You get back in there and get me a toddler, H.I. I need a baby."
There is a pretty solid family habit of grouping, and frequently doubling, birthdays. It's possible we just perceive it that way because there are enough of us on each side that statistically it was inevitable that people would share birthdays. For example, Mr S-P was born on his older brother's birthday, and I missed being born on my dad's by a day. So we had high hopes that the new guy (non-specific term) would come on Saturday, and share a birthday with my mom. Sorry, mom. I hope your birthday was lovely, even if we haven't yet made you a great-grandmother.
I suspect tomorrow will be much like today. Spending as much time outside pulling weeds as we can stand, trying to get the garden ready for the next round of planting, the next section of dog-resistant fence. It works for a while to keep me from texting my daughter, hoping for word of contractions. It doesn't demand enough of my attention to keep me from thinking about it every minute of the day. I cannot believe how many hours are suddenly in a day when one is waiting like this, unable to do a single thing that will alter nature. I need a hobby or something to make the time pass faster.
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