I guess I sort of knew it had to happen at some point. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely inevitable but given the nature of Murphy’s Law and all, it might as well have been. The First Hospital Rush Scare. And ours (our first, anyway – hopefully our last) couldn’t have come at a less opportune time.
I’ve spent the past 8 months or so of my wife’s pregnancy trying to convince myself – and Amanda – that the mad rush to the hospital is a thing solely existent in the realm of movies and TV dramas. Books reinforced this, childcare classes reinforced this, it was pretty much the accepted rule from anything I came into contact with. Nevertheless, I spent all my time last night nervously checking out – not just cab numbers, schedules, and cost estimates – but flight schedules, nearby airports, and ticket prices. I was preparing to make a very extended mad dash.
See – I’m not even home this week. I’m 500 miles north, (begrudgingly) in a training program in New Hampshire for work. Coincidentally, this week Amanda hit full term. To take it even one step further, her parents are out of town this very same week. So even before I left, paranoia abounds.
But Aedan’s not due until May 7th. Surely it will all be alright, and I’m only gone for 3 days. Right?
Not exactly.
Coming into the home stretch now, the last month of pregnancy, has been pretty rough on Amanda – as I suppose it kind of always is. For the most part, I can honestly say that just about everything up until here has been pretty smooth sailing, at least as much as can be hoped for. But now – she is in constant pain, constant exhaustion, can’t sleep, never in any even remotely comfortable space. In short, she’s about done with the whole thing. And of course I’m fully realizing what it is to be the helpless father at this point, with only my words to help buoy her.
The past weekend she seemed to enter a whole new level of pregnancy pains. I took her to a professional prenatal masseuse on Sunday, which was helpful, but then come Monday morning I had to take off and leave her by her lonesome.
Monday passed uneventfully. Not without some significant degree of paranoia on both our parts, but still uneventful. For the most part.
Tuesday afternoon and she starts experiencing some severe lower back pains, and then shortly thereafter a bit of recurrent stabbing pain in her abdomen. She called me, and decided to leave work. She called the doctor for advice who recommended acetaminophen and rest, and to come in to the hospital if it persists after an hour or two. She drove herself home through miserable DC rush hour traffic. Meanwhile I’m on pins and needles, already starting to figure out what flight I’m going to catch should I need to. Manchester, New Hampshire, is only about a 75 minute flight away from home… so it was entirely feasible I could still get home in time if Aedan decided that this was the day. As long as I could catch the last flight, anyway – the last flight at 8:30pm.
Barring that of course, there is always car rental…
Amanda got home and got some rest. The pain subsided a bit with medication but never really ended. She was well enough off to realize she was starving – a good sign. I tentatively figured that things were okay and went to have some dinner myself, but also put a close friend at home on low-level alert that my wife might need a ride that evening.
Some hours pass. The window for catching the last flight of the evening closes. I look into car rentals to keep my options open – the last place closes at 1am at the airport, and it’s an 8 hour drive home – putting me home at 9am at the earliest if need be. My bags are long since packed and I’m ready to be out the door at a moment’s notice.
Midnight rolls around and her pains are back. And worse. Amanda calls our doula for advice, she is understandably reluctant to check herself into the hospital despite my urging from afar. The doula suggested the same – she needs to go in. I called our friend – Ali – who I can’t thank enough for her part in this story, and had her come pick Amanda up and drive her in.
Meanwhile I’ve hopped a cab and am racing to the nearby airport to get there before the Budget Rent-a-Car closes at 1am. It’s gonna be close. And it’s pouring rain. And my phone battery is dying.
I get there at 12:58am and thankfully I still see someone at the counter. I run up and tell him my story – I had figured at this point I would rent a car regardless of what was going on at the hospital, and get on the road – worst case scenario I turn around and lose a couple bucks for a day’s worth of a car. Small price to pay for doing what I can to minimize the time it would take me to return.
But I suppose I momentarily forgot – I’m in New Hampshire. Worse yet, the middle of nowhere in New Hampshire. They had no cars. The clerk told me this and I couldn’t believe it, but I looked out in the tiny lot behind him and saw what he said was true. There would be no car for me to drive home and to miraculously arrive moments before my daughter was to (maybe) be born. It wasn’t going to happen.
My cab then takes me back to the hotel, and I’m researching flights again for the morning. I could get home by about 9am or so – not really much later than driving, anyway. So I console myself with this fact.
As I’m getting back to the hotel, the texts start rolling in from Ali.
“We’re at the hospital.”
“She’s getting checked out.”
The time between each text could have been months or it could have been years.
“The nurse says things look okay.”
“The baby’s not low enough for labor. She will not be delivering tonight.”
Thank god. But is something wrong then?
“The nurse says she’s alright and is cleared to go. Baby and mother are both fine.”
And I felt then a relief of a degree I’ve not often experienced.
So as it turns out she was actually experiencing authentic contractions. Not the fake-outs, not the Braxton-Hicks. Actual contractions – but the baby wasn’t ready. And the regularity wasn’t there to signal true labor. I think we both, maybe subconsciously, picked up on the fact that it didn’t really feel like what was happening was actual labor. But still we needed to know what was going on. And I’m glad that things went the way they did, all things considered.
And I realized that she will not be leaving my sight for even a moment after I return home tomorrow.
