"What's the possibility that you could take off work this weekend?" I said to Tom as soon as I waddled in the door.
"It's probably a little too late for that," he answered. "Why?"
"Well, I'm dilated to three. With the cramping that I've been feeling, I'm just really scared that I'm going to go into labor this weekend."
He looked up from his computer game. "I don't think I should take off work. What if you don't have the baby for another two weeks? Should I take leave until then?"
Why did he have to be so practical?
"Whatever. If I go into labor and you're not here, I can just have Lyn deliver her. Timmy will probably be great help, too." I walked out of the room and sat in front of the computer. I didn't want to cry, but I did.
When the tears were dry, I texted my friend and told her the news. She is the person who will watch my kids once I go into labor. I wanted to make sure she'd be available to be on standby. I then texted my sister and mother-in-law, and left a message for my mom.
And I waited....
I think I went to bed at about nine o'clock. It may have been a little later than that, but I wanted to make sure bags were packed and ready to go. I've had my suitcase ready, aside from the toiletry bag, for over a week now, but I needed to make sure the kids had pajamas and a change of clothes. And shoes. I didn't want to search for Timmy's shoes while in labor. For whatever reason, that kid's shoes go into hiding every time he takes them off. I probably would too.
I woke up at eleven and quickly fell back to sleep. At 12:30, I woke up again. This time, I wasn't so lucky. One, one-thirty, two o'clock came and went. I'd say that I was tossing and turning, except it hurts terribly to toss and turn. I'd roll from my left side to my back. My back would pop and ache and I'd almost be stuck there as I attempted to roll over to my right side. Eventually, at a little after two, I gave up.
"Screw it. I'm writing."
I had written 2500 words before 6:30 AM. That's a record for me. I'm lucky to write 2000 words in an entire day. If you've read Seriously, Horrible, you'd say, "More like 1000 words in an entire year, Somewhat." And you'd be right.
I woke my husband, made his lunch, and wrote some more. I tired out at about 7AM, and decided to take his and my friends' advice. I was going back to bed.
That lasted for about as long as it took to sit down on the couch. The pitter-patter of little feet coming down the stairs let me know that my non-nap was over.
"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up," Timmy said as he pinched my cheeks.
I dragged the rest of the day.
Sunday rolled around and I was annoyed that I hadn't gone into labor. My husband left for work and called me shortly after he arrived. His boss sent him home.
I spent the day tired. I wrote a couple of chapters and ended the weekend with about 9500 words. I tried to take naps and every single time I was close to sleep, my phone would ring. Even though I'd told my mom and sister that I'd call if I went in labor, for some reason, they felt the need to call me. I love them, but on Sunday, I was loving the idea of sleep even more.
