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"Yeah, son, why would you do that?"
I look at Erica, and she looks at me. I thought this would go over better. Erica steps in and saves me.
"It was all my idea. My mom wouldn't stop setting me up on blind dates. I got frustrated. I just blurted out that I was engaged but couldn't tell her to whom. Then, I needed to find a who, and I ran into Aaron, who said he would help me. Then, he thought it would be fun if I came on the family vacation to make it real. One thing led to another, and well, here we are. Engaged and pregnant."
Once it sunk in, everyone, including us, busted out into loud laughter. It's one of the first stories I will tell Rose about how her mom and I got together.
We eat and laugh, enjoying the evening. Both parents talked about how much they had hoped we would get together in high school and later adulthood. They could never understand what the problem was. They could see we loved each other.
"We just had to let the two of you figure it out. We are so glad you finally did."
"We are too. We are so happy." Erica puts her hand over mine.
The evening is a success, and we say good night to everyone around eleven o'clock. Even though we didn't cook, it was still an active evening, and Erica was wiped out. We get into bed and start to relax when Erica groans.
Concerned, I ask, "Are you okay?"
Erica is breathing heavily through her nostrils. "Yes, I think so."
We are almost asleep when she gets another pain.
"Babe, what's wrong?" I turn to her, and her face is red.
"I'm not too sure. I think it might be a contraction." She puts her hand on the side of her belly and gets hit with another pain.
From all the books I've read — yes, I read them too — the baby is on its way when contractions come this close together.
"It's too early for the baby to come," Erica pants through her words.
Early or not, I get the go-bag, help her get dressed, and drive her to the hospital. I'm a maniac on the street, weaving in and out of traffic, honking my horn, taking turns like I'm on a race track. I pull up to the emergency room and jump out, grab the bag, and help Erica out of the car.
A nurse meets me with a wheelchair, and I tell her what's happening. She wheels her in, and I sign a ton of paperwork before they let me back to see her. I hear a sound like a wild animal and rush back to Erica, who is having another contraction.
"Your baby is on its way, Dad. Do you want to gear up and be part of the birth?"
I nod, but the nurse is multitasking. "Yes, where do I get a gown, mask, and stuff?"
The nurse points to a plastic bag. I grab it and put on everything that's in there. Then, I go to Erica, standing and leaning over the bed. She is panting and sweating, and I'm at a loss as to how to help her.
Erica starts crying, and I freak out. "What's wrong? What can I do?"
I look for ice chips and start giving her those.
She spits them out on the bed. "I don't want ice chips. I wanted to have the baby's room done before she came, and now it's too late."
She lets out a wail, and I have to remember that she is in pain. She's scared, and however strange it is that she is thinking about not having the baby's room done right now, I need to be supportive.
"I promise I will have the room done by the time you and the baby come home. I'll ask your dad, my dad, our moms too. They will help, and it will get done. Just don't cry, please."
"Do not tell me what to do…." Another contraction hits.
I should stay silent and help her breathe.
"Okay, momma, it's time to get you into bed to check how many centimeters you are." The nurse helps Erica into bed as another wave hits her, and she asks for an epidural.
The nurse gets Erica into the stirrups and checks. "Good news is that you are at 7 centimeters but don't push yet. Bad news, it's too late for an epidural."
Erica whines and then cries out as another contraction takes hold of her. I stand next to her and hold her hand. When the next contraction comes, she squeezes my hand so hard it feels like she broke a finger. I'll have it checked later.
