Rough Draft

           Its 2am, my wife and I are nestled comfortably side-by-side in our queen size bed, which is perfectly centered, along the tallest wall in our master bedroom. Above us, a ceiling fan gently whorls. Next to it, a skylight pours moonlight onto the foot of the bed where our two cats lay intertwined, basking in the moonlight, like a pair of kindred lovers. In the corner, pillows and blankets smother an empty white basinet waiting patiently for our new son.       

Suddenly, I felt a nudge on my right shoulder, then my wife’s voice, “he keeps kicking me…jeesh”. She reaches across the bed, grabs my left hand, and gently lays my palm atop her pregnant belly. Moments later, I feel her entire stomach clamp down as if to hug our unborn son. For the next fifteen seconds, I could feel the definition of my son’s body through my wife’s abdomen. My wife asked, “Did you feel that? He is really moving.” Curiously I thought to myself “It seemed like your belly moved, not our son.” I found it odd my wife couldn’t tell the difference but I held my tongue because she’s a nurse and probably knows better than me. I immediately checked the time on my watch, and then placed my hand back on her belly. I asked her “how long has he been moving?” She replied, “About two hours now, I didn’t want to wake you”. After some time passed, I felt it again. But this time I was certain, her belly moved, not our son. I subtly drew my hand away from her stomach and peered into my watch, carefully counting the minutes that past between these “movements”. I counted to myself “One, Two Three, Four, and Five… Five minutes!” Instantly, our obstetrician’s words reverberated throughout my thoughts “There is plenty of time to get to the hospital, so don’t freak out. Take your time, be supportive and drive carefully. Remember most deliveries take 12 hours and driving is the most dangerous part of the delivery.” 

Calmly I look over at my wife and said, “I don’t know love, and I think it’s your belly moving, not our son…” She replies, “No, it’s him moving, I’m sure of it.” Respectfully I accepted her response, and laid my palm on her belly again.  Patiently I waited, until again I could feel the silhouette of my son through her abdomen. I said, “Is he moving now?” She replied, “Ya.” I glance at my watch and thought, “Five minutes again”. I said, “Love, this is happening every five minutes. You’re having labor contractions.” She replied, “Are you sure?” I said, “Well every time you thought he was moving, he wasn’t. It was your stomach contracting.” 

I hopped out of bed and flicked on the lights. She says, “I’m not sure these are contractions. Let’s call the clinic’s emergency line and see what they say”. She grabbed the phone, dials the number to our obstetrician’s after hour’s service, and gets an answering machine. She calmly gave our information, requested a quick return phone call and hung up. After the phone call she said, “I’m going to soak in the bath till they call back. Maybe it will calm down”.  Meanwhile, I dressed, gathered the suitcase we already had prepared and hauled it down stairs, placing it by the front door.

The phone began to ring. Hastily I darted to the stairs and jogged up them skipping every other. My wife answered the phone, “Hello.” I sat quietly next to the bathtub, but could only hear the murmur of a woman’s voice. My wife informed her of what had transpired and paused for a response. During that pause my ears transformed into that of a K-9 because I heard every word said to my wife. “Those are contractions; you need to check into the hospital. I will notify your doctor and she will meet you there.” My wife relied “Okay, we are on our way.” Like a typical over sized penguin my wife waddled down the stairs. We both threw on our jackets and out the door we went.  

After getting her situated in our car, my wife’s labor pains began. Suddenly, all the pregnancy TV shows we watched, in preparation, flashed through my mind. One in particular stood out and became my mind’s focus. I recalled watching a woman give birth in the back seat of a car while her husband drove to the hospital. That mental image sent a shock to my stomach, causing it to wrench sideways. I thought to myself” I CAN’T LET THAT HAPPEN!” and quickly ran around the car got in and started the car. All I wanted to do was drive like a bat out of hell, but instantly our doctor’s message “drive safely” brushed aside my worries and kept my impulses at bay. As we drove, each pot hole sent whimpers bellowing from my wife’s mouth. I now had a new nemesis and something to focus my attention on. With hawk eyes I scanned the road, targeting pot holes which I swerved around with as much elegance as an ice skating champion. With each road defect and every corner I imagined a top heavy coffee cup sitting ominously atop the dashboard.

When we arrived at Rose Medical Center I pulled into the emergency room parking lot. After aligning the car into a parking space we noticed a sign that read “Emergency Vehicles only”. Peering around at the other parking spots, we noticed all the parking spaces presented this identical signage. Quickly I pulled out of the parking lot and parked in front of the emergency entrance. An orderly strolled up to the car and informed us we could not park there. I relied “My Wife is in labor! I’ll come back and move it in a few minutes”. He replied “It will get towed if you do so”. I turned to my wife and instructed her to go into the hospital while I park the car. After watching her enter the hospital, I then parked the car one block away and jogged to the hospital

As I entered I noticed my wife sitting at a registration cubical. I urgently addressed the hospital employee sitting at the cubical, “We preregistered. Why isn’t she headed up stairs?” My wife looked up, while grimacing from a contraction and replying, “They have more paperwork for us.” I clenched my teeth and sat down politely. After about ten minutes, we were finished. Apparently they had some mix up and we had to fill out all of our forms again. The lady pointed to the elevator and said, “please go to the third floor.” Holding my wife’s hand because no wheelchair was made available, we made our way to the elevator stopping several times to manage her contractions. As we stepped of the elevator and into the hall a nurse’s station far off in the distance beckoned us. Slowly, we made our way to the nurses’ station at which point we were assigned a labor room were my wife laid down to rest.