. . . seems to have arrived a few days early this year. My week started off very nicely when I realized that the class I was enrolled in didn't actually start until Tuesday. So Monday morning my dear husband and I dropped Bee of at daycare (with a small amount of guilt, but mostly excitement at the prospect of spending the day together) and headed to go Christmas shopping at the mall.
We walked and shopped and talked and ate at Five Guys for lunch, and even had enough time leftover to see a movie together in the afternoon; my husband very obligingly went to see New Moon, and I know that that wasn't his first choice. Throughout the day, I had periodic mild contractions, but chalked it up to Braxton-Hicks. I mean, I couldn't possibly be going into labor, could I?
Oh, but I could!
By 7 pm that night, I was fairly certain that this was the real deal, but it wasn't until about an hour later that we were calling the doctor and my mother to come and stay with Bee. We finally left for the hospital just after 9 pm. We arrived safely at the hospital (despite a long and torturous walk from the parking lot to a locked entrance) only to be told that all the delivery suites were occupied! Fortunately, they were cleaning one and it would be ready soon. We were sent to the lobby to wait. There were several other women in my predicament--and from my pain addled state, I was busy drawing parallels the fact that we had just been told that there was "no room at the inn."
To be continued once I have 15 more minutes. . .
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