“We need to call 911. I can’t have this baby here. I need medical professionals.” What I was really thinking was I need an epidural. The van was shuddering and jerking. It would go and then jerk back. We started to pray. Begging God to move the van. To have it make it. When we got to the highway which was about 5 minutes away from the hospital, the van got up to speed. It was still shuddering though. “Do you think I should pull over and try to restart it?” Scott asked. “No. Oh my goodness no,” I growled while trying to breath. Somehow, as in a blur, we pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. We made it.
Scott asked if I needed him to go get a wheelchair. No I barked at him. I am fine. Half way to the door I realized…I needed a wheelchair. He ran ahead and found the door locked. Yes, the door to the hospital was locked. He has to ring in while I bent over trying to breath. After a very lengthy discussion with a nurse over the intercom (she thought I was in labor and delivery instead of standing on the sidewalk), they let us in. Ready to collapse we were in the elevator heading up. Almost there I thought.
I followed Scott in and we headed up to the nurses’ station. “My wife is in labor,” Scott told them. The nurse smiled and said ok. Then she asked me my name. To which I was unable to reply because I had to concentrate on not collapsing into a heap on the floor. I had to sit. Scott answered for me. Then she looked at me and asked me who my doctor was. Again, I stared at the floor, breathing through the pain. Scott again stepped in for me. By the time she got to question #3, about my due date, I had about lost it. Please direct all questions to the man who can stand right here. He knows all the answers. Trust me.
Finally she directed me to a room and then with some help, got into a gown. “Let’s see where you are,” she said in a cheerful tone. “And you say you were a one yesterday?” I nodded. I was getting the impression that she thought perhaps I was faking. Or at the very least, not in as much pain as I seemed. “Well, you are a five now. I need to call Dr. M” she said quite seriously now. “And what were you thinking for pain?” FINALLY we were getting somewhere. The question I had been waiting for. This one I would answer. This question I could take. “An epidural.” “Oh honey,” she said while shaking her head, “the way you are moving here I think it is too late for the epidural.” “Oh no,” I whimpered.