a ticket. And—” Isuddenly remember—“don’t forget to call your doctor.”
“I already did. Drive fast, Kim.”
But as soon as I hang up, I know this is totally crazy. Nat’s mom could easily get her to the hospital in fifteen minutes, and I could be there waiting for her. Otherwise it could take us nearly an hour by the time I go all the way home and then back to the hospital.
I dial Nat’s home phone number, the first number besides my own that I ever memorized, and wait as it rings. I hope this isn’t a mistake.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. McCabe?” I say just as I approach the intersection where I’ll have to either go home or head for the hospital. “Natalie’s in labor. But she’s alone at my house. I just left the church and could meet her at the hospital if you could pick her up and bring—”
“I’m heading out the door right now,” Mrs. McCabe yells into the phone. “Krissy, Micah, move it. Your sister’s having a baby!”
“Meet you there,” I say, then hang up. Okay, Nat’s going to kill me. But hey, she’ll be so distracted giving birth that she’ll probably forget all about this.
I get to the hospital and am just waiting at admittance when I see Mrs. McCabe pushing Nat in a wheelchair with Krissy and Micah trailing just a few feet behind. They have on their pajamas, but they’re grinning like this is as much fun as going to the circus. And it starts to feel like a circus once Nat’s in the hospital bed.
Between the nurses, who are hooking Nat up to some kind of monitor and taking her temperature, and Krissy, who’s climbing on the bed and trying to “talk to” the baby, and Micah, who’s turned on the TV, and Nat’s mom, who keeps asking where the doctor is, I’m not sure who should be doing what. Finally, Natalie settles it.
“Kim is my labor coach,” she tells her mom in a firm voice. “She’ll be in the room with me.”
Mrs. McCabe looks hurt, but what can I do? It’s Nat who’s having this baby. She should call the shots.
“Fine,” her mother says in a stiff tone. “We’ll be in the waiting room. That is, unless you’d prefer us to go home.”
Nat is holding on to her stomach now. “I don’t care what you do! Can someone give me something to stop this pain?”
I get some ice chips and try to remember how the breathing technique is supposed to work. Finally it feels like we get into some kind of a rhythm. I watch the monitor, which the nurse has explained to me, and when it starts to look like a contraction is coming, I tell Nat to start breathing. The only problem is that the contractions are kind of irregular. Some are five minutes apart and then Nat goes almost a half hour with nothing. Finally, it’s nearly midnight, and I’m exhausted while Nat’s actually asleep.
“How are we doing?” the doctor comes in and asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Well, I’m afraid Natalie’s experiencing some false labor.”
Nat opens her eyes. “False labor?”
He nods. “It’s fairly common.”
“But the pain was real,” she protests. “How can it be false?”
“It’s a bit like those Braxton Hicks you’ve been having. Nature’s way of getting you ready to give birth.”
“But I am ready,” she insists.
“But the baby isn’t.”
“How can that be?”
He smiles. “It’s just one of those mysteries of life, Natalie. The baby comes when the baby is ready. And the baby is not ready to come tonight.”
“But when?” she demands with tears in her eyes. “I can’t stand to go on like this? When?”
“Well, it could be as soon as tomorrow,” he tells her.
“Then why don’t I just stay here?”
“Or it could be on your due date,” he looks at her chart. “January 2.”
She groans.
“Or it could be even later than that.”
She leans back into the pillow and closes her eyes.
“I’ve told the nurses to release you, Natalie. You go home and get some good rest, and who knows?
“I already did. Drive fast, Kim.”
But as soon as I hang up, I know this is totally crazy. Nat’s mom could easily get her to the hospital in fifteen minutes, and I could be there waiting for her. Otherwise it could take us nearly an hour by the time I go all the way home and then back to the hospital.
I dial Nat’s home phone number, the first number besides my own that I ever memorized, and wait as it rings. I hope this isn’t a mistake.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. McCabe?” I say just as I approach the intersection where I’ll have to either go home or head for the hospital. “Natalie’s in labor. But she’s alone at my house. I just left the church and could meet her at the hospital if you could pick her up and bring—”
“I’m heading out the door right now,” Mrs. McCabe yells into the phone. “Krissy, Micah, move it. Your sister’s having a baby!”
“Meet you there,” I say, then hang up. Okay, Nat’s going to kill me. But hey, she’ll be so distracted giving birth that she’ll probably forget all about this.
I get to the hospital and am just waiting at admittance when I see Mrs. McCabe pushing Nat in a wheelchair with Krissy and Micah trailing just a few feet behind. They have on their pajamas, but they’re grinning like this is as much fun as going to the circus. And it starts to feel like a circus once Nat’s in the hospital bed.
Between the nurses, who are hooking Nat up to some kind of monitor and taking her temperature, and Krissy, who’s climbing on the bed and trying to “talk to” the baby, and Micah, who’s turned on the TV, and Nat’s mom, who keeps asking where the doctor is, I’m not sure who should be doing what. Finally, Natalie settles it.
“Kim is my labor coach,” she tells her mom in a firm voice. “She’ll be in the room with me.”
Mrs. McCabe looks hurt, but what can I do? It’s Nat who’s having this baby. She should call the shots.
“Fine,” her mother says in a stiff tone. “We’ll be in the waiting room. That is, unless you’d prefer us to go home.”
Nat is holding on to her stomach now. “I don’t care what you do! Can someone give me something to stop this pain?”
I get some ice chips and try to remember how the breathing technique is supposed to work. Finally it feels like we get into some kind of a rhythm. I watch the monitor, which the nurse has explained to me, and when it starts to look like a contraction is coming, I tell Nat to start breathing. The only problem is that the contractions are kind of irregular. Some are five minutes apart and then Nat goes almost a half hour with nothing. Finally, it’s nearly midnight, and I’m exhausted while Nat’s actually asleep.
“How are we doing?” the doctor comes in and asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Well, I’m afraid Natalie’s experiencing some false labor.”
Nat opens her eyes. “False labor?”
He nods. “It’s fairly common.”
“But the pain was real,” she protests. “How can it be false?”
“It’s a bit like those Braxton Hicks you’ve been having. Nature’s way of getting you ready to give birth.”
“But I am ready,” she insists.
“But the baby isn’t.”
“How can that be?”
He smiles. “It’s just one of those mysteries of life, Natalie. The baby comes when the baby is ready. And the baby is not ready to come tonight.”
“But when?” she demands with tears in her eyes. “I can’t stand to go on like this? When?”
“Well, it could be as soon as tomorrow,” he tells her.
“Then why don’t I just stay here?”
“Or it could be on your due date,” he looks at her chart. “January 2.”
She groans.
“Or it could be even later than that.”
She leans back into the pillow and closes her eyes.
“I’ve told the nurses to release you, Natalie. You go home and get some good rest, and who knows?
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