(note: times are approximate, and events and conversations have been embellished)
I ask her how she is doing. She replies that she feels like a bloated whale, but other than that, fine. I nod at her in assurance that she in fact does look like a bloated whale, but other than that, she looked fine. She was nice enough to inform me how I looked in return. We were both tired, and decided to head to bed.
12/21/96 - 3:12 am - Saturday
I'm waken up with her sitting on the edge of the bed, shaking me awake.
"What?! What is your problem woman?! What the hell time is it?"
"It's after five. I think we better go," she says in a calm voice, with a subtle hint of urgency and stress. I don't pick up on it immediately.
"....zzz....."
"Kyle!"
"Yeah! Yeah..... I'm up." I get up and put on some clothes as she makes a phone call. I grab our bags by the door and escort her out to the car. It is cold, and very dark and quiet out. I help her into the car and put our bags in the back. We leave into the dark and cold.
On the way, I ask her how she's doing. She is concentrating out the windshield and not really realizing I am in the car with her. I ask again and she says she is fine in an almost diappointed tone. "They don't hurt as much now. I think the are going away."
"Oh? Are you sure? We probably should just go anyway to be safe. Right," I ask.
She nods and we continue our journey. When we arrive at the midwife shortly thereafter, we notice the lights are already on in the "good" room. Both our hearts sink a little.
I park the car in the lot next to the small dwelling that looks like a bed and breakfast. I help her out of the car and up the steps. We walk in the front door and warm air hits us in the face. A little mousy woman walks in behind two antigue pocket doors, closing them behind her. She smiles. She smiles a lot.
"So," she beams with enthusiasm. "What is going on with you?"
T informs her that she was having pains, but she thinks they are fading.
"Oh?! Well, let's check you out." The mousey women opens the pocket doors and escorts us across a living room right out of Better Homes & Gardens. Holding each other's hand, we hopefully slow down when we reach the "good" room, but our hostess keeps on walking. We slow down, but don't stop as we look longingly at the closed door and let out a audible sigh.
She stops in front of another door leading to a similar room with a bed and quilts and frilly shit. "Here we go. Just get comfortable and I'll be back to check on you." She ushers us into the room and closes the door behind us.
"This sucks," T exhales with disappointment.
"Yeah, I know," I respond. We both wanted the "good" room. This room wasn't nearly as nice. We could hear voices and commotion coming through the thin walls of the next room. The room we wanted. We instinctively hated them in our rightful room.
I did an inventory of our room in preparation of trying convince T or the merits of this room over the other one. My heart wasn't in it though. This room is nice, but it wasn't what we were dreaming of.
She changes her clothes and wait. Waits in comfort, without pain. Waits in disappointment.
Soon the doctor pokes her head in. "How are we doing," she asks with a smile full of teeth.
T answers her in a sad tone, "Was having pains, but they have pretty much gone away."
The doctor still smiled, but the intensity faded. "Oh? Well let's take a look and see what's going on." The doctor took some tests, looked in places you don't usually want to have people looking at, and the entire time muttering, 'Uh-hmmm..."
"Well, it doesn't look like it's going to happen this morning. But I'd like you to stay here for awhile to see if it was a false alarm or not." We nod in agreement, and relax in the plush bed with the quilts and filly shit.
We sit on the bed and talk about things, and tell jokes. We listen to the couple in our rightful room becoming a family. We celebrate silently in our room when their family grew by one more. We were happy for them, and disappointed for us. But it would be soon.
Our room neighbors are a couple we had classes with preparing for this. The father wanted to be the one to announce the sex, which we thought was a very nice idea. We listened to the sounds coming from the room in anticipation. It was like a old-fashioned radio drama with sound effects and everything.
When their newest family member arrived, the nurses were trying to get the father to make the call on the sex. We could hear and imagine he was a bit flustered and in awe of the whole thing.
Midwife: "Oh! Look at that dad! What is that there?
Father: "...."
Midwife: "Look here dad. What is that?"
Father: "...."
Mother: "What the hell Martin?!"
Father: "...it's...."
Midwife: "Yes daddy, what is that? Look right there."
Father: "It's a boy. We have a son!"
Mother & Father: Cries of joy.
We cried too as we laid there in bed listening, holding hands.
"Not today," I say, "but soon. Soon that will be us."
We kill some time, but T doesn't have any more pains. The doctor comes back into our room and takes one last look.
"Well, today is not the time," she finally breaks it to us. We both knew it, but it was still disappointing to hear. "I'd keep an eye on it and not leave town or ride any mechanical bulls today though. You may still experience pain once in awhile, but it's normal. Just keep track of the intensity and duration." The doctor offers up some home remedies that are supposed to help the process along. I felt remedy option #5 was particularly interesting and worth exploring..... multiple times if necessary (boom-chaka-wa-wa). I thought we should try it out as soon as we got home. T was not sharing the same thoughts.
It's still early, and the sun is rising. We thank the doctor and take our time packing back up. We don't say much to each other. Not much we can say, we both are thinking it though. Now we have a better shot at the "good" room damnit!
...to be continued...
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