Amy

I just talked with Amy and she’s still doing fine, holding steady at 5cm. I’m in Cincinnati now, about to board for a flight to Birmingham, which lands at 8:38 am. It looks like I might make the delivery!

It’s midnight in Tuscaloosa. Amy’s in pre-term labor and I’m in San Francisco. That’s right, San Francisco. On a last minute whim, my boss decided that he couldn’t attend a conference this week in San Francisco because of some health problems with his dad. The money had already been spent for the conference, so he was hoping I could take his place. I had not planned on attending the conference since it was only weeks before the baby was due. However, Amy was very healthy and reassured me that it would be fine if I went on the trip.

Amy dropped me off at the airport in Birmingham this morning. She was doing fine. Her stomach was sore, but it has been for the last few months, so neither of us thought much of it. I called her right before I boarded my connecting flight in Atlanta and she was doing fine. Then, when I landed in San Francisco, just hours later, I had a voicemail from my sister about Amy.

Picture this: a young man whose wife is pregnant with his first child listening to a voicemail about his wife in pre-term labor while everybody in a plane is trying to get their bags and get off the plane. I almost passed out, mainly because my sister forgot to mention that Amy was doing fine until the end of the message.

So I’m sitting here in the San Francisco airport waiting for my flight back to Birmingham. I’m supposed to land at 8:30 am. If we’re driving fast, we can probably make it to the hospital by 9:15 am. Hopefully, Owen can wait until then. The doctors are giving Amy some medications to help slow the labor, but she’s already at 5 cm.