It was approaching 3 in the afternoon, and Corey would be getting ready for work soon. However, that thought didn't even enter my mind. All I kept thinking was, "I could see feeling like this if I were in labor, but the baby's not coming for another 8 weeks. What's wrong with me?" I asked Corey to draw up another bath for me. This time I wanted it in the downstairs bathtub because I was unsure of my abilities to walk up the stairs to the master bath. He drew me up a wonderfully warm and comforting bath. I got in and laid there. Ahhh, peace, at last! Well...at least for the fist few minutes. Then the wave of discomfort washed over me anew and I was feeling worse than when I got in the tub.

I started breathing very fast and crying. I was so upset. I still couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. My whole pregnancy had been rainbows and sunshine, no vomitting, hardly any constipation, no problems with my baby...Yet here I was, cowering before my body, unable to explain how I felt besides "Yucky!!!"

My breathing became more shallow and quicker. My neck was bent against the back of the tub as I tried to submerge as much of my belly in the water as possible. Corey came in and saw me hyperventilating and crammed into the tub. "Honey," he said carefully, "you need to get out. You're not getting enough oxygen. It's not good for you or the baby." Then I burst out in tears and told him what I'd been thinking. "I could see how I could feel this yucky during labor, but the baby's not due for another 8 weeks!" I cried at him uncontrollably. He helped me out of the tub and gave me a towel. He left me alone, and I sat on the toilet, waiting for something to happen.

He came back in to check on me. " How are you feeling?"

"I feel like I am back in high school and it's the first day of my moon. Every month I would feel awful, then puke, sleep and wake up like nothing had happened. I just want to puke and pass out. I want to wake up and have this all go away. That's how I feel."

He left the bathroom again. I turned around to straddle the toilet seat, resting my arms on the back of the tank and laying my head down, just like with the exercise ball. *This was one of the warning signs Sunny told the dads to look out for during labor, straddling the toilet seat. I was unconsciously trying to get comfortable and her class was far out of my mind. I just did what felt natural.* Corey came back in to check on me and saw my positioning. He began to worry.

Then, I turned back around on the toilet and wiped with some toilet paper. I looked down to see a bloody wad. I was stunned, yet in denial. Even though Maryn had mentioned blood, I didn't believe what I was seeing. All of a sudden, I grabbed the trash can and.....Out came the mac'n'cheese. "Call Maryn!" I garbled. "I just puked and that's not normal for me!" If there was one thing I knew, it was keep track of the abnormal stuff and let the midwife know ASAP. Since puking had not been a part of my pregnancy thus far, it was indeed out of the normal for me.

I could hear Corey in the living room getting on the phone with Maryn. It was only a vague noise in the background. At that point, I was completely in my body with no heed to the outside world. I went on instinct alone. I dropped down to the floor on my hands and knees (still naked from my bath, mind you) and began shaking my head back and forth as it hung down to the floor. Sobbing, and scared at what was happening, I began the chant that alerts the papa to tell the woman "yes, you can." I was crying out, "I can't do this....I can't do this....I can't do this..." in a shakey and terrified voice. Again, without any reference to Sunny's class in my conscious mind, those were the words that instinctively came out, "I can't do this." I started feeling a pressure down there. A pressure unlike anything I had ever felt before. It felt large, and heavy, and rhythmic. I felt like I was pooping, only it was coming out of the wrong hole. Corey came in with the phone up to his ear. He was stunned at what he was witnessing. Maryn heard me over the phone, chanting "I can't do this" and gave him immediate instructions. "Get her to the Cottonwood hospital NOW!"

He hung up and told me to put my pants on. "We're going to the hospital now."

"But I can't," I protested, not really realizing what was going on. I just knew I had to say no, as if that would stop everything and I'd go back to normal.

"You have to. Maryn said so," he replied. Oh! That's different. If Maryn said so, I had better do it.

"Okay," I sobbed, reluctantly. Corey told me he was going to get a robe from upstairs and I was to put on my pants. I crawled to my ugly, gray, Hanes Her Way sweat pants, which I had bought extra big for pregnancy, and tried to get to my feet. As I stood up, I felt an uncontrollable warming sensation down my legs. I looked down and saw a clear puddle of something. That was it. I had all three signs that Maryn told me to look out for; blood, a gush and rythmic cramping.

Corey returned with his bathrobe and handed it to me. I put it on and stepped outside the bathroom. I collapsed. Something had pulled me over. I looked up at the golden face of a Buddha statue Corey had bought me for Christmas. (We're not Buddhists, but we like the artwork of the statue.) I was kneeling at the coffee table at the entrance of our home. Seeing the face of the Buddha somehow made it clear what was going on. I had just had my first contraction. I stood up and waddled to the car before I had my next one.

Corey opened up the door to the back seat of our old Buick. I looked around at the state of our backseat and was surprised at how messy it was. We never sat back there. We mostly just used it as a catch-all for things we didn't want in the front seat. Old newspapers, clothes, apple cores, just a very untidy hodgepodge of junk. But there, in the middle of that junk was my golden ticket, a memory foam contour pillow from IKEA. I grabbed the pillow and out it under my belly as I climbed in. It felt sooo good under my belly. I buried my face in the garbage on the seat and decided to calm down and go with the flow. I opened my eyes to see what my face was pressed against as I crouched across the backseat, knees folded under me, belly down on the pillow. It had a half-full bottle of Mountain Ice water and an empty Pennzoil bottle for company during labor.

We were in the car and speeding off toward Cottonwood. Hopefully the baby would stay in long enough for us to get there.