You can rehearse for this stuff, but most of the developments that we feverishly and obsessively plan for rarely play out in the "real world" like they do in classroom simulations or Hallmark Hall Of Fame TV movies.
Lidia wasn't feeling well last night, with little change this morning, so Dr. T agreed to see her for an earlier appointment at the Bloomberg Clinic. I called work (who've been so gracious and accomodating during this ordeal) and told them that instead of having to leave earlier, I'd be coming in later...
Well--we never went home.
Upon measuring Lidia's near-critical blood pressure levels (a perfectly natural symptom, given the heavy double load she's been toting for 8+ months), Dr. T declared something akin to "we got you to 35 weeks and I'm happy--these suckers are coming out today" (well, not exactly, but damn, it reads well, doesn't it?) and ordered Lidia to report to Triage at Mt. Sinai pronto.
After taking care of all the important paperwork and financial matters with Admissions (and trying, in vain, to secure a private room), I returned to Triage on the seventh floor to find Lidia already in hospital attire and wired up to various baffling and intimidating devices to monitor her blood pressure and vitals in prep for inducing labour.
We'll be parents by morning, we're told, but it's going to be a long night getting there--affording me a bit of time to scoot home and collect the hospital survival kit (which was about the only thing we did have planned in advance and at-the-ready).
I left Minnie and Maggie plenty of food and water, cleaned the litterbox, set the alarm, and returned through the usual hellish afternoon traffic to the trusty Murray Street parking garage.
Hey ho--let's go...