Friday, March 19, 2010


It was almost midnight and very dark out with no traffic. As I looked out the back window of the transporter, I had a sense of where we were and how much longer we had until arriving in Seattle. My inner clock told me half an hour.

My contractions picked up. I kept thinking, “This isn’t happening.” Again, thank goodness I had already delivered another baby so I knew how to breathe through my contractions as well as time them. I looked at the young gentleman sitting next to me. I could tell was nervous about transporting a pregnant lady. I asked him if he thought I should time my contractions. He stuttered and said, “Yes.” As we counted together, all I could say to myself was, "This isn’t happening. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.” My pain was increasing and the contractions were coming faster and closer together. I was beginning to hyperventilate as my imagination finally connected the dots and began to run through the scenario of not making it to the hospital in time. I knew we would both die if I delivered without a C-section. I would be damned if my daughter and I were going to die in the back of a transporter after everything we had been through with a young, nervous paramedic watching us go. We weren’t going to die. Period.

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