The False Alarm: A Retrospective Piece

February 11, 2011:

For the most part was just like any other day.  Timile was getting closer and closer to her due date of 3/7 and was more than ready for this pregnancy thing to be over.  She was uncomfortable, irritable, and could hardly keep any food down.  She couldn’t wait until our doctor’s appointment on the fourteenth to see how much closer she was to being put out of such misery.  As the male compatriot in this, that meant the brunt of life was put on me.  Everything!  The little things from “Can you get this for me” to “I hate you and can’t stand you for putting this baby in me!”  To my current fathers, you understand and to those who are not yet: this IS your fate.

It was a Friday night.  Timile, my sister and I were at home and I was watching the Knicks game.  Everyone was hungry so I went to Pizza Hut to pick up an order to bring back.  Timile called me saying “I think it’s time.”  

“What you mean it’s time?!?!”

She was having contractions that were five minutes apart.  OH!  Well I guess that means it’s time to investigate for myself.  Waiting for my order meant I had to sit there for a good twenty minutes.  I couldn’t just go back home especially because I had already spent the money!

I got back to the house and Timile was on the couch in the den looking like she was in a bit of agony.  I timed them myself.  The contractions were five minutes apart.  I pulled out my camera and got a little excited like “It’s time?”  We got the overnight bag that was packed and by the door (Always have that) and we drove to Winthrop University Hospital which is on the North Shore of Long Island and I live on the South Shore.  It’s about a 15-20 minute drive but I stopped to get gas and we rolled.  I didn’t want to do the “I’m speeding to the hospital thing because my wife is in labor” because it would be just my luck that some asshole cop would be like “Nah, that’s not flying so here is a large ass speeding ticket, see you in court.”

Being that even though I was 25 at the time, I’m still 12 deep down.  So I joke through just about everything.  It’s my coping mechanism of choice generally.  However, since Timile was going through it, I told her I had a song I wanted to play for her to let her know how I felt at the current time about her and our daughter that was on the way.  I pressed play on the CD player and it was Will Smith “Just The Two Of Us.”  Since the song pretty much starts off talking about zooming off to the hospital I went with that particular selection.  In the midst of all of what was going on, she looked at me and mustered up a little laugh because she knows that’s me and she wasn’t expecting it.  In a nutshell, this last paragraph was our relationship for five years through everything.

We got to the hospital, filled out all of the paperwork, and sat for a total of ten minutes before they put us in a birthing suite.  We made all of our phone calls letting people know what was going on as much as possible because there was horrible reception in the room where we were located.  My sister eventually showed up there.  

As soon as we began to set up shop preparing for the long night the doctor came in, looked at the heart rate of both Cydney and Timile as well as contractions and said “These are Braxton Hicks contractions.”  Our faces were dumbfounded, my sister included who had already given birth.  We didn’t understand because the contractions were still five minutes apart but the doctor said the severity of these contractions didn’t indicate labor just yet.  It was a good thing that we came in and checked but it was time to go back home.  Timile was relieved because I don’t think as much as she was ready to have the baby, she wasn’t ready.  “That’s okay, babe.  We still only got a few weeks to go.”  

Little did we know, but God and Cydney had other plans…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s