Call Me When I Have A Kid

Last week, Katrina calls me at work and tells me in full freakout mode that her water broke. The brief conversation sounded like a David Mamet play:

My water broke!
Your water broke?!
My WATER broke!
When di-
JUST NOW!
Fuck!
I know!
Well I'm-
How are you getting here?
How am I gettin-?
I gotta go upstairs!
Okay I'll get there!
Okay, Bye!
Fuck!

It was about 11:00am so first things first. I put my lunch in the microwave and set it to IMMEDIATELY. Experience Points, son. If this was going down, I knew I wasn't going to be eating for the next 12 hours or so. My mother and little sister were babysitting Alina so the plan was to take the subway out to Forest Hills, get picked up by them, and get a ride out to Long Island.

I started reading my book on the subway - relishing in my coolheadedness. The baby was coming about 4 weeks early afterall. Cause for concern, but not alarm, as we were told this child is tracking to be born about 9 or 10 lbs. Let's say that again. NINE or TEN pounds. It was big enough already to be born without things like steroid injections to inflate the lungs. Got about half a page into my book and realized I was kidding myself. I wasn't absorbing any of the words, my eyes just running over them. I put my book back in my bag. I looked around at the glazed over subway passengers, thinking that none of them had any problems nearly as important as mine. A few minutes later, I buried my head in my hands and let out an audible "UGH" when I realized we hadn't yet settled on a name! How was I going to argue with someone who's anestitized? Perhaps she'd be more agreeable. But when she comes to, she'd probably tackle the mailman before the forms go off to the Bureau of Vital Statistics.

I get to the hospital in what could be considered record time and shoot up to Labor & Delivery. When I ask for Katrina, they tell me she's the freaked out one in Trauma Room 1. Being in a room called Trauma wouldn't put me at ease either. When I walk in, a SonoTech is doing an ultrasound. As it turns out, her water didn't break. It was ..... something else. No, she didn't piss herself. Her plug? I have no idea. The word Mucous came up. But I'm still fuzzy on the details because I was too busy coming to terms with the water not breaking. I mentioned to Katrina that we hadn't picked name yet. She responds, "Oh, I picked them. It's all you can think about just lying here." But she didn't pop so I think there's still time for debate.

This is the fourth or fifth time I've been to the hospital with this pregnancy. Low fetal heart rate, contractions, contractions, alleged water break. All false alarms. Katrina woke up early this morning and said, "I think this is the day, because I'm really nauseous." She was nauseous just before going into labor with Alina - still think it was the Thai food, though. In my half asleep voice, I told her I wasn't moving until someone is holding a scalpel.