Go time

To say we had a good night sleep would be a lie. It was pretty sporadic. However, I'm still convinced it was smarter than going to the hospital. Finally after laying in bed, staring at the ceiling for about an hour and half, day dreaming about the predicament I got myself into (the whole "ruining J's life" predicament") around 6:00 AM I called it quits. I decided it was "go time".

I woke up Chris. All our bags were packed because Chris had packed them the night before. Chris is good at being rational in times of need, while I'm the hysterical one; that's what makes us such a great team. We work good together: I stay pregnant for 9ish months, he calmly packs the bags. See? I thought about taking a shower a few times, and then decided I probably wouldn't enjoy stalling anymore at this point. It all of a sudden became very important to me that we get out of the house while J was still sleeping. I didn't want him to wake up to a border-line psychotic mother, who would have to be pried away from her 18 month old, all in the name of going to the hospital, to birth another human. Dramatic? Probably.

Whatever.

After one more beautiful priesthood blessing, we called up Uncle "Nay Nay", and within minutes of reaching them, they appeared at our door, all starry-eyed and excited for the events to follow. In the split seconds we waited for them to get to our house, I wrote down a play by play of "J's day" for my brother. I should have taken a picture of this work of art. I had the paper filled front and back, full of scribblings that screamed the very obvious, yet oh-so-important at the time: ie. J wakes up. Feed J. Clothe J. You know, the very normal. I'm glad my brother didn't make fun of me. The whole time writing it up, I knew he would take one look at it, and laugh his pants off. But when he saw my fragile state, there would be no laughing of pants. Because he loves me.

The second I saw them, I fell into hysterics again, crying my tired little eyes out. My sweet (WONDERFUL!) sister-in-law suddenly ran to me, thinking I was in some sort of pain, asking if I was ok. It made me laugh, to see this situation from someone else' point of view; I was not crying because I was in that much pain, I was crying because I really did not want to leave J! I tried to explain that to them, through my tears, and they just smiled, and told me they would take care of him. And I knew they would.

Reluctantly I hugged them both, and some how made it out to the car, holding my husbands hand, crying the whole way to the hospital...

We got to the hospital around 7:30 AM Monday morning.