...though this one actually does, sorta.
Last night, my good friend and frequent FOMW commenter Dave-O dropped by for dinner with my family and a night of hanging out and comparing notes on the gigantor stack of books, movies, and PS2 games that I'd borrowed from him that I've recently plowed my way through.
Yeah, that didn't happen.
We managed to get a conversation started when Kim and I's latest Adventure in Bringing Another Child Into The World (ABACITW, pronounced "a-buh-SIT-wuh") began in earnest. Kim had been having contractions fairly frequently recently, but last night they started happening a lot. And they were getting stronger. These weren't those "sorta" contractions, these were Capital C Contractions. After keeping track of them for about an hour, Kim called the doctor while Dave, Robbie, and I ate supper. (It was good) Then Kim called me (literally, on the phone from the bedroom, because I had told her not to bother getting up) and said she'd called the doctor, and it was possible we were going to need to go in to the hospital.
Dave, a man full of wisdom and kindness and blessed by God with an extra helping of Awesome, realized before I said it that Guys' Night was over. No, not over. Recast. He and I would not be hanging out. He and Robbie would be hanging out while I took my wife to the hospital. (He stuck around, watched If I Were a Digger, and even did the whole sock puppets and story routine, none of which the guy had signed up for) I made another few calls to get everything covered--Leah to sleep over in case Robbie woke up in the middle of the night while we were at the hospital, Hannah (who shall hereby be nicknamed "The Bacon-Saver" for the number of times she's saved my bacon this year. "The Bacon Savor-er" would also be appropriate) to cover my shift at The Hobbit this morning, and a few other odds and ends that needed covering. At this point, we didn't know if we were having this baby yet or not, so I didn't start calling around or sending out texts until I had more definite information.
Weeeeelll, by the time we went to sleep (around midnight), they still weren't sure whether we were going to have the baby or not. (Side note: Thanks to Mr. Hatcher for texting me the Pens score. Not your fault you were the bearer of bad news) The Contractions had certainly intensified and were coming every three minutes, and they were getting stronger. It appeared as if Kim had started on a labor cycle, so they wanted to keep watching until the next morning.
Morning came, and I had to leave Kim to wait for the doctor while I went home to take Robbie to school. By this point, Sarah had come over so Leah could get ready for work. (Turns out, it does take a village. Go figure) After I took Robbie to school, Kim called to recommend I go home and get some sleep and take a shower, because I hadn't had time to shower since Sunday night. In fact, I'd slept in my Tuesday clothes at the hospital. The doctors weren't going to rule one way or another until about lunch time. By this time, I realized I had time to get to work for The Hobbit and, since I couldn't be useful until noon anyway, I went and did the show. Afterward, I got some lunch when Kim called me back. She said the contractions had all but stopped and, while her body had started labor, it had stopped pretty early in the process, so the doc was sending her home.
Then we came home, and then I got a brief nap, and then I brought Robbie home from school before the roads could freeze. (Turns out, most of them dried before it froze, which is good)
So. Busy 24 hours. Lots of waiting and seeing and not really knowing what was going on. Doctor would like for us to wait until we get to 37 weeks before baby is born (we're at 34 and 5 days now), but she also noted that she's on call this weekend at the hospital, so maybe we'll see her then.
I'm beat. I'm going to take a shower, do some laundry and dishes, and then hopefully get to sleep before midnight so I can get to work in time for early(ish) call tomorrow.