This is Part 2 of a few posts that take place over 12 hours. You can read Part 1 here.

The cab driver was obviously  trying not to freak out that a very pregnant woman had asked to be taken to the hospital. My 4-year old however, was delighted.

Contraaaaaaaaaaaction. Ooph.

“Mummy. I have never been in a taxi before. It’s amazing. This is the best. I’m in a TAXI. The driver is doing a great job. But he’ll have to be faster if we’re going to make it in time. I’m such a big girl…just…mummy…don’t puke.” Mini Cosell looked horrified at me. I caught a glimpse of grey lips in the rear view as the cab did his best to manoeuver through traffic. Ugh. Contraaaaaaaction.

Wait. How far apart were those because I thought I just caught my breath from the last one?

I glanced at the clock on my phone casually and then focused on breathing. Vee was sizing me up suspiciously so I looked out the window smiling and feigned interest in the passing traffic.

3 minutes.

Wait that’s impossible…breathebreathebreathe.

Another 3 minutes passed.

Somehow they had jumped from 10 to 7 to now 3 minutes and had grown in intensity from the time our car broke down to this point, and we were still 15 minutes away from the hospital. I called my OB’s office and gave them the update that I was going to be late to my check up and that I was having regular, intense, contractions.  Then I texted Cap.

‘3 mins apart now. Told to skip OB and head straight to triage. Feeling really gross. Please hurry and join me. Love you.’

By the time Vee and I got to Obstetric Triage I was on a terrible roller coaster of contraction hell. I was waxen, heaving, and Vee’s car seat had bounced back and forth on my leg so many times I knew I’d be seeing a bruise. Vee had started singing the Alphabet Song in earnest and I focused on helping her navigate left and right between burbles of nausea.

“I WIN!!!” She screamed as she burst through the doors of triage.  ”HA! Mummy. I got here first! Do I get a surprise?!”

I limped through triage administration making sure to ask for a barf pan just to be safe, and then watched Vee run into the waiting room and pounce on one of their recliners. “Ooooooh fancy!” She said, eagerly grabbing the TV remote and examining it.

That’s when the huge tidal wave of nausea hit me. I was going to say something encouraging and sweet but instead a torrent of  breakfast sprayed all over the pan, all over the floor, and all over the fancy recliner.

Vee was wailing in despair and slid down to the floor dramatically.

“MUMMY! WHY did you do that? Why? The poor fancy chairs. This is terrible. I TOLD you not to puke.”

The nurse came in to usher me to a bed. Surveying my kid now sitting on the floor shaking her head disapprovingly, and me, frozen in wonderment at how little puke those cardboard pans actually hold, she deftly paged for a clean up and took my hand.

At this point contractions were getting more and more intense but staying solid at 3 minutes apart. I scrambled up on the bed and watched the monitors start reading their seismography. The comfort of hearing Baby Brother’s heart temporarily mollified me, as did Vee’s sweet little hand in mine. She planted a big kiss on my nose as she settled into a chair beside the bed. It was getting easier to breathe through each contraction.

‘A few minutes away. Hang in there! XO’ came a text from Cap.

“Mummy. Listen. I’m going to sing you a nice song. ABCDEFG…”

As if to accompany Vee through her now masterful rendition of the Alphabet Song, a deafening, nasal alarm chimed in.

“Ooh listen Mummy, WAH WAH WAH WAH WAH” She sang along with the alarm, bouncing up and down in her seat.

“We’re so sorry…it’s a floor wide system failure. Damn it…” The nurse, seeing the murderous glint in my eye fiddled with random buttons and knobs on the console to see if there was any way to muzzle the most annoying sound in the world.

Vee had started dancing beside the bed, alternately singing alphabet letters and ‘WAH’s.  I closed my eyes to try and preserve the shred of sanity I had left.

“Babe!” Cap burst into the room, complete with 2 hospital bags and the newborn capsule car seat. “I brought everything!”

“YAY!” Squealed Vee. We now had 2 car seats, a duffle bag, Vee’s knapsack from camp and my purse stacked in the corner precariously. There was hardly any room for the nurse to take my blood pressure, when 2 doctors came in to check on me.

“Wow it’s a party in here.” Said one jokingly.

“PARTYYYYYYY?! Oh! Can I have some juice?!” Vee was still bouncing in time with the WAHs.

“Ok, can everyone clear out so I can have a minute with the doctors?” I asked as nicely as possible.

Seeing my face, Cap wrangled Vee out of the room and I spilled my history to them while the alarm continued to deafen us all.

“Ok… well this all looks and sounds very laboury to me! Let’s check you out!” Yelled the OB over the noise.

I have never been happier to have a cervical examination. I was so sure that this was it. The doc was going to look up and say that I was already 4cm and we were doing great. I was going to meet my sweet Kid Vader today.

Or was I?

“Hmmm… “ She began, her hand still totally groping around my interior. “Well, there’s good news and there’s bad news…”

Read Part 3 now to find out what happens next. Or, tune in to The Ramble about horror movies and pregnancy here.