start, Dean times it to fifteen seconds. As it turns out, the next one is over half an hour later, so even Professor Neurotic realizes it makes no sense to time each one.
“Not yet, anyway,” he says.
Anxiety flutters inside me. I push back the bedcovers. Since I have no idea when we’ll need to leave for the hospital, I tell Dean I’m going to take a quick shower.
“Leave the bathroom door open.” He also gets out of bed. “Call if you need me. What time is it? Are you hungry? I’ll make sure everything’s ready for the hospital.”
I don’t bother reminding him that we’ve had everything ready for the past three weeks. Clearly the man needs something to do.
I stand under the shower for twenty minutes. The hot water pounding over my hair and skin dilutes some of my nervous tension. I put a hand over my belly when it starts to tighten again.
“Okay, baby,” I whisper. “Let’s do this.”
A thousands thoughts fly through my brain. How it seems like I’ve been waiting to meet this baby forever, and yet how quickly the past nine months have gone. I think about my childhood, remembering faces, names, places, emotions. For the first time in my life, those thoughts aren’t accompanied by bitterness or sorrow, but by a kind of complacency. A belonging.
“Five minutes.” Dean clicks the stopwatch. He’s been showered and dressed for the past two hours. “We should head for the hospital.”
It’s almost seven in the morning. My contractions hurt but not excessively so, and my water’s already broken. After an L&D triage check determines my membranes have ruptured and I’m two centimeters dilated, a nurse named Karen puts me into a birthing room and hooks me up to a fetal monitor. She consults with the doctor, who determines I should be admitted.
“There was a chance I could have been sent home?” I ask Karen.
“Well, sometimes people get a little anxious and come to the hospital too early,” she explains, then smiles at Dean. “You did the right thing.”
He beams back at her. “I have Liv’s birth plan all ready too.”
Oh, lord. The man is going to be a legend among Mirror Lake’s nurses before long.
Dean gets the plan out of my suitcase and shows it to Karen. They consult over it for a few minutes before she places it with my medical chart.
“So, uh, what do I do now?” I ask. I’ve changed into a hospital gown and am sitting propped up against the pillows.
“Relax and keep contracting,” Karen says cheerfully. “I’ll get all the forms from your file. Anything changed since your pre-admission interview?”
I shake my head.
“How’s the pain?”
“Bearable.” Of course, I have no idea how long it will stay that way.
“I’ll get an IV started, but you’ll still be able to move around,” Karen says. “Dr. Nolan is delivering twins down the hall. She’ll be in as soon as she’s available.”
After inserting the IV into my arm, she leaves. Dean pulls a chair up beside my bed and sits down. “You need anything?”
“Not yet.” I shift around to get comfortable and glance at him. He’s staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He reaches out to push my hair away from my face. “Just… you know.”
“Yeah.” I squeeze his hand. “I know.”
We sit for a while. I tighten my grip on his hand when another contraction clenches hard. The nurse comes in to ask questions, we fill out a few more forms and continue to wait.
After another hour, Dr. Nolan comes in to check on me. She announces that I’m still only three centimeters dilated, even though my first contractions started over five hours ago, and suggests that we do some walking to try and speed things along.
I’m not all that thrilled about walking up and down the hospital corridors, but Dean’s already helping me into a pair of slippers before I can protest. He holds my arm and we head out to walk. The hallways are surprisingly quiet—a few doctors and nurses go from room to room, family
“Not yet, anyway,” he says.
Anxiety flutters inside me. I push back the bedcovers. Since I have no idea when we’ll need to leave for the hospital, I tell Dean I’m going to take a quick shower.
“Leave the bathroom door open.” He also gets out of bed. “Call if you need me. What time is it? Are you hungry? I’ll make sure everything’s ready for the hospital.”
I don’t bother reminding him that we’ve had everything ready for the past three weeks. Clearly the man needs something to do.
I stand under the shower for twenty minutes. The hot water pounding over my hair and skin dilutes some of my nervous tension. I put a hand over my belly when it starts to tighten again.
“Okay, baby,” I whisper. “Let’s do this.”
A thousands thoughts fly through my brain. How it seems like I’ve been waiting to meet this baby forever, and yet how quickly the past nine months have gone. I think about my childhood, remembering faces, names, places, emotions. For the first time in my life, those thoughts aren’t accompanied by bitterness or sorrow, but by a kind of complacency. A belonging.
“Five minutes.” Dean clicks the stopwatch. He’s been showered and dressed for the past two hours. “We should head for the hospital.”
It’s almost seven in the morning. My contractions hurt but not excessively so, and my water’s already broken. After an L&D triage check determines my membranes have ruptured and I’m two centimeters dilated, a nurse named Karen puts me into a birthing room and hooks me up to a fetal monitor. She consults with the doctor, who determines I should be admitted.
“There was a chance I could have been sent home?” I ask Karen.
“Well, sometimes people get a little anxious and come to the hospital too early,” she explains, then smiles at Dean. “You did the right thing.”
He beams back at her. “I have Liv’s birth plan all ready too.”
Oh, lord. The man is going to be a legend among Mirror Lake’s nurses before long.
Dean gets the plan out of my suitcase and shows it to Karen. They consult over it for a few minutes before she places it with my medical chart.
“So, uh, what do I do now?” I ask. I’ve changed into a hospital gown and am sitting propped up against the pillows.
“Relax and keep contracting,” Karen says cheerfully. “I’ll get all the forms from your file. Anything changed since your pre-admission interview?”
I shake my head.
“How’s the pain?”
“Bearable.” Of course, I have no idea how long it will stay that way.
“I’ll get an IV started, but you’ll still be able to move around,” Karen says. “Dr. Nolan is delivering twins down the hall. She’ll be in as soon as she’s available.”
After inserting the IV into my arm, she leaves. Dean pulls a chair up beside my bed and sits down. “You need anything?”
“Not yet.” I shift around to get comfortable and glance at him. He’s staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He reaches out to push my hair away from my face. “Just… you know.”
“Yeah.” I squeeze his hand. “I know.”
We sit for a while. I tighten my grip on his hand when another contraction clenches hard. The nurse comes in to ask questions, we fill out a few more forms and continue to wait.
After another hour, Dr. Nolan comes in to check on me. She announces that I’m still only three centimeters dilated, even though my first contractions started over five hours ago, and suggests that we do some walking to try and speed things along.
I’m not all that thrilled about walking up and down the hospital corridors, but Dean’s already helping me into a pair of slippers before I can protest. He holds my arm and we head out to walk. The hallways are surprisingly quiet—a few doctors and nurses go from room to room, family
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