8 cm

I still had three weeks left until my due date. I had been ignoring Yale's urging to pack my hospital bag and no baby clothes were clean--they were just hanging in the nursery. When we told my mom we were finally going to the hospital she came over to help. I wasn't lucid enough to pack my own things, and honestly most of what I would have packed needed washing, so she just threw a bunch of things in a bag--luckily I was able to remember a few necessities (like shampoo) and added them to the lot. I remembered reading online to take my own pillow and make sure the case was a bright color so it wouldn't get confused with hospital bedding; we had to go back inside to get it and a red pillow case.
By this time, about 8:15 or so, it had been raining for a while, a nice steady rain that wasn't letting up. I squeezed into the front seat of the Focus (the infant seat in the back crowded the front passenger seat almost into the windshield) and Yale began driving. We didn't call Yale's parents and told mine to take their time getting ready to go to the hospital because if I really was in labor it would be a long wait. I had to tell Yale a few times to slow down because I was not going to be standing on the side of the road in the rain if he had an accident.
We arrive at River Oaks at 8:38 (I remember because we were able to take the main entrance to the Baby Suites; after 9 you have to enter through a side door). We go to the second floor (luckily Yale had the presence of mind to ask the doctor where to go as I had been planning on having this discussion with my doctor at the next appointment, therefore I had no clue) and walk off the elevator. The entire floor was empty except for a woman sitting in the hall with a toddler talking on her cell phone. I guess she read the pain on my face and asked if we needed help. Yale told her we were looking for labor and delivery. She said we needed to go and press the button on the wall and that the nurses would let us in. I go and push the button.
Nothing happens. No one comes over the intercom to ask if they could help us. I push again. Again nothing. Yale is beginning to freak out. He starts to stalk down the hall in the opposite direction in search of SOMEONE. I push the button one more time and a rather impatient voice comes over and says, "Yes?" "Um....I think I'm in labor."
The door is unlocked and we walk down the corridor towards what looks like an official looking spot. "You haven't been here before have you?" Yale and I look at each other. I'm wondering why this woman is asking us if we'd been there, almost like one asks in a restaurant, when she clarifies, "You haven't preregistered have you?" "No." I manage to grunt as I am leaning against the counter holding my belly. I am told to go to a room while Yale begins the paperwork.

The room was dark and I had no idea what I was supposed to do so I just kind of stand there. A nurse finally comes in and turns on the light and leaves. Then another comes in and starts getting things going. I put on a hospital gown and she wants to do an examination. Yale is there beside me holding my hand.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to be very calm right now,” says the nurse. Great, I think, I’m probably about 2 cm out of 10 dilated and will have to sit here all night until these stupid contractions subside. “You’re 8 cm dilated.”

“WHAT?! Are you kidding?” I manage to gasp, incomplete shock.

“What’s that mean?” asks Yale.

“It means we’re having a baby. And soon,” the nurse replies as she practically runs from the room to get everyone else moving. It’s about 9 o’clock.

The only thing I could think of was that he was still 3 weeks early. That means that his lungs, which are the last to fully mature, may not be ready. Had I been like any other sane woman, and gone to the hospital that morning, I would probably been given something to stop the contractions and then been given steroids that would help his lungs mature faster. As it was I stubborn and now we were way past stopping anything.

“Are you getting an epidural?”

“Uh, I guess so. I had planned to,” I said, thinking that I had planned to when I was envisioning myself getting to the hospital with hours and hours of labor ahead of me. As it was, I didn’t know how much I had but I knew it wasn’t hours.

“Well, we’ve called the anesthesiologist and he’s on his way.”

“How far away is he?” I grunt as another contraction begins.

Ten minutes and many painful contractions later the anesthesiologist still isn’t there.

“Okay, here’s the deal. Your water hasn’t broken so the doctor will break it when she gets here. If you get an epidural you won’t feel anything but it will slow the labor down. I’m not trying to dissuade you from having pain medication but you’re up to 9 cm and that baby is coming.”

I ask if there is anything they can give me to take the edge off. They say yes, Stadol, but if I get it the baby will be really lethargic when he gets here. I decide to wait.