As I was leaving town for a fun night of razorback sucker larval sampling on Lake Mojave (I’ll explain that whole crazy process when I finally get to do it), Hot Pregnant Wife called me to say that she was beginning to have regular contractions and that I should start thinking about not leaving town. I was actually at REI buying a new day-pack (the zipper keeps blowing out on my 15 year old pack), so I hung out at REI continuing to look at packs. She called again about 10 minutes later saying that the contractions were regularly occurring at five minute intervals and her obstetrician told her to come on in to the hospital.

I immediately bought the backpack I was looking at, called my office and asked them to call the folks I was meeting at Cottonwood Cove and tell them not to wait for me. I drove back into Las Vegas from Henderson, bought some takeout from Long John Silver’s (hey, today is Ash Wednesday and I get to fast (we’re allowed one meal, no meat and no snacks)). I dropped off the work car, transferred my luggage to my car, turned in my keys and satellite phone (I had the sat phone in case Hot Wife went into labor while I was out in the middle of Lake Mojave) and picked up Hot Wife at her work.

One of the most wonderful things about being a dad is being able to drive like a maniac when you are taking your laboring wife to the hospital. In fact, my friend Greg actually got pulled over after very deliberately stopping and then very deliberately running a red light while driving his wife to the hospital. The cop took one look at his very pregnant wife and told him to drive her safely to the hospital. I didn’t run any lights but I did some speeding and rolled a few stop signs. By the way, those blue “H” hospital signs are very helpful especially because our hospital is in a newer part of town with stupidly curvilinear streets that are confusing to people who can’t afford to live in that area. The “H” signs will be much less useful once the trees that line the roads of this nice neighborhood regain their leaves this spring and obscure the signs.

So we got to the hospital, Hot Pregnant Wife got hooked to some monitors recording the fetal heartbeat and the contractions. Hot Wife was enduring contractions coming every two to five minutes and we both felt very justified in leaving work and breaking traffic laws. Soon, Hot Wife was moved from the triage room (actually a screened-off area in a hallway) to a real room. However, her belly decided it didn’t want to expel The Boy quite yet. The contractions slowed and then stopped. After another hour or so, we were discharged.

So right now, we’re both in this weird gray area of not being sure about going back to work. It’s very hard not to know when things are going to happen. We’re at 37 weeks and we have a induction appointment set for March 12 but we are basically relying on some ancient biochemical timers and mechanisms. This system has worked well and helped mammals expel living young for about the last 100 million years since placental mammals evolved from egg laying monotremes in the middle of the Cretaceous. It is especially difficult for Hot Wife because she thrives on planning and organization and, like most modern humans, doesn’t function solely with biochemical timers and mechanisms. I’m pretty patient (and am often ruled by biochemical timers) and I know that her body is getting stronger and stronger signals to start laboring and that days like today are just part of a complicated natural process.

However, the most important thing to remember is, I will soon get another opportunity to again drive like a maniac. And this time, it will be on a full stomach. I can’t wait.