This Is Only a Drill

I awoke Wednesday morning, three days before her due date, to find Aileen sitting up in bed, grimacing, and looking at the clock.

“Contractions?” I asked. She nodded her head. “How many minutes?”

“Seven,” she replied.

These contractions were different from the Braxton-Hicks she had been experiencing throughout her last trimester. The main difference was that these lasted longer, and were quite a bit more painful.

Our obstetrician had told us to come in when they got to three to four minutes apart. I figured we had some time until then so prepared some hearty breakfast burritos for her knowing that once she was admitted in the hospital, all she could have would be jello, juice, and ice chips until the baby was delivered.

Aileen had prepared the suitcase days before, and it was sitting in the corner of our bedroom, next to the crib. She had already called her mama and they were preparing to drive over from Berrien Springs as soon as her papa came home from work.

After breakfast, she sat on the couch. “How many minutes now?” I asked.

“They stopped,” she said in disbelief. And they didn’t come back for the next hour. With the action suspended, I decided to go to work.

“Do you have your cell phone?” she asked. It was more of a command than a question.

“Yup,” I replied. I made sure the ringtone was on the loudest setting and left for work.

I called her a few times from work, but things remained quiet that day. But we knew our baby would arrive any day now. Her parents decided not to come until the next day.