The Day You Born - Part 4 – I'll take the Party Shirt and a Side of Cheeseburgers

There are lots of things that go through your head when you are in labor or when you are the husband of a wife who is in labor.

As the woman in labor, my first thoughts were – do I have time for a quick shower, what am I going to wear, are my toenails painted and if not will my doctor be horrified by them.

“You are going to take a shower?!” your daddy asked me. His tone had every hint of how ridiculous I was being.

“Yes! I need to.” I said with desperation.

So I ran into the bathroom and started the water. But as I stood there letting the water heat up, I realized there really wasn't any time for a shower. No time to paint my toes either. I wasn't even sure I could reach them. Instead the only thing I really had time for was getting dressed.

I turned off the water and headed back to the bedroom.

Rummaging through my drawers, I tried my best to find something that screamed, “I'm in labor, but I'm glamorously in labor.”

Your dad had just about enough of it. “What you have on is fine.”

Hammy, do you know what I had on?

A pair of tights and t-shirt that said “This is My Party Shirt” with a picture of both political party symbols, a donkey and an elephant. And if to make matters worse, it wasn't just any shirt. It was your daddy's shirt that I squeezed my gigantic pregnant belly into. Nothing remotely glamorous about that.

So that's what I went to the hospital in. A party shirt.

I figured I'd have plenty of time in the car to fix my makeup....in the car on the way to McDonalds.

“McDonalds?!” Your dad asked.

“Yes, I'm starving. And besides, they won't let me eat anything once I get there! Mc Donalds was the only thing I knew would be open.

“Are you kidding me?” Daddy asked.

And Ham, my look said, “Definitely not.”

So we grabbed my “hospital” bag and we drove around the corner to the Mc Donalds.

“I need to call the hospital to tell them we are coming. You order. I want a cheeseburger.”

And as your dad ordered cheeseburgers for us – one for him because he was hungry too – I dialed the hospital.

While I chit chatted with the nurse about my contractions the Mc Donald's intercom blared through the car window. I could tell she was getting aggravated.

Before I hung up with her I asked “Is it okay for me to eat? I mean, say I just ordered a cheeseburger. Can I eat that?” I asked the nurse.

And her response was something to the effect of......well Ham, it's plain gross what she said. She told me two possible things that could happen to that hamburger if I decided to eat one.

And as I hung up the phone, we were already pulling out of the parking lot and onto the interstate. I looked over at your dad, who was patting the bag of cheeseburgers and grinning. “I got them.” he said.

“We can't eat them.”

“What?!”

And so I told him what the nurse said. And your dad who is a good sport about everything just shrugged his shoulders and put the bag in the back see so we didn't have to look at it. If I wasn't going to eat, then your daddy wouldn't make me suffer through it alone.

While cheeseburgers and my appearance weighed heavy on my mind, your dad had worries all of his own before your arrival.

I didn't find out until we were in the parking lot of the hospital just what that worry that would be.