Once we were in the hospital we headed straight for the labor and delivery section.
There wasn't a soul in the main part of the hospital and it was kind of nice because we didn't have to push through people to get where we needed to go.
We were sent into a triage were they would check everything out before sending us to the room I would end up having you in. For the next two hours doctors checked on me and three other pregnant women who were in the same boat.
Your dad took this opportunity to doze in and out of sleep. In between Zzz's, he would jump up to ask me if I was feeling okay, rub my arm, and tell me I looked like a robot hooked up to all those machines like that.
"Well it looks like everything is moving right along." The doctor told us. "But we would like to see a little more progress before we send you in to have the baby."
Progress? Weren't we already, there?
He gave us three options, Ham.
He could induce me. And I said heck no to that.
We could go back home, walk around alot and then come back in two hours.
Or, we could walk around the hospital for two hours.
Your dad, as exhausted as ever, and I asked if we could privately discuss the only two options we'd consider.
First we considered going home.
In my mind - and maybe this because I saw some couple doing this on a baby story on TLC - I pictured us strolling around our neighborhood, hand in hand. Your dad encouraging me, patting me on the back. And me, I would be beaming with excitement. Contraction, what contraction?
In your dad's mind - maybe I can catch some snooze on the sofa while Mrs. Yardbird walks up and down the street in front of our house.
Did we forget it was 3 o'clock in the morning?
We did.
After spending almost two hours in the triage it was now almost 3 am. Walking around our neighborhood at 3 in the morning was out of the question. Yes, in some ways our neighborhood was the closet thing to Mayberry this city had, but we needed to be realistic.
So when we both finally realized it was not a good idea, we opted for the less scenic route - the hospital.
Before I gathered my big belly to begin our hospital walkabout, I turned to the nurse and said....
"I'm starving. I know you won't let me eat but....I don't know if I can make it." And I tried to give her my very best puppy eyes so that she would take pity on me.
It worked. And a few minutes later she produced a hospital made.....ham sandwich.
Ham, I hate ham.
Not you, the meat.
Of all the meats in America, it had to be a ham sandwich. I tried to look thrilled over my ham sandwich.
"Oh wow! Thanks." I forced a smile.
As soon as she left I looked at your father and shrugged. Beggers can't be choosers, I thought.
"Do you want to half that with me." Your dad asked. Your poor dad was hungry too.
"Sure." And as I handed him his piece I somehow enhaled mine.
Let me tell you ham, that was the BEST ham sandwich I have ever had. If someone had bothered to tell me ham could be so great, maybe I would have given it a chance.
Your dad was just about to take a bite and noticed me staring at his half sandwich with crazy eyes.
"You want this?" Your dad was being polite when really he hoped I would say no.
"Yes, I'm sorry. I need it." I had no shame. I took food right out of your dad's hand. This man was exhausted, he was starving and yet, I did it anyway.
Ham, we all have moments we aren't proud of.
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