7:09am

"I think my water broke..." that's the first thing I hear as I wake up this morning. What does she mean she thinks? Aren't women genetically programmed to KNOW when these things happen? As I leap from bed my mind is all ready spinning with ways to solve this issue, except that this is all happening about two weeks ahead of schedule. Thankfully I did pack a bag and who can remember what I put in there but it's going to have to do.
My wife, Kelly, thinks it's too early to call the doctor...too early to let the doctor know that the birthing process has begun. Naturally, I totally disagree and insist that the doctor needs to be let in on our little secret. If I know about it then he should certainly know about it.
The house is all abuzz with nervous energy and the dog doesn't like the feeling at all. Barking, crying and needing attention my brave guard dog needs me to comfort him and let him know that everything in all of our lives are not about to change forever. I can't explain to my four legged buddy that everything is going to be okay, he's still going to be loved and taken care of just like he was before. Of course, this is not true. Everyone who has had a dog without kids knows that the dog is treated like your first kid...until your real first human kid comes along. Sadly, I can't allow the dog to slow down my anxiety train...the next stop is going to be the maternity ward at the Concord hospital or so I think.
The doctor calls my wife and tells her to try to get to the hospital as soon as possible. As soon as possible, at least to me, means we need to be leaving now. As soon as possible to my wife means we should get going after she has a shower and eaten breakfast. I am not too sure how that became her version of as soon as possible but if she isn't going to be nervous then what point is there in my being nervous?
The only thing that I need to do in the birthing process, the only thing that any Dad needs to do actually, is get the mom-to-be to the hospital, birthing center or midwife before the baby is born in the backseat of our car. Once we are in the car it becomes my turn to be in control, a small part of this day that I have some control over. The drive to the hospital is 15 minutes, a casual, easy drive from our house. Of course today everyone who wants to obey every speed limit, stop sign and crosswalk is going to be in front of us. The only vision that I have is recurring and scary...and not one that I really want to happen. There is no way that I am going to be delivering this baby in the back seat of our car. As I cross over the double yellow lines and pass the first of several too law abiding citizens I begin to realize that this is actually happening, the baby is coming and we are going to be three instead of two. Nine months of planning, waiting, anticipating and worrying are all coming together at this one point in time. Other people are going about their normal days, totally unaware that my world is about to change and it will never ever be the same as it was just yesterday.