Oh, I guess I should elaborate a little, huh?
Well apparently, the wife's spooky, voodoo mommy spider sense was spot on. Last night she complained of pain, but also said that she thought the baby dropped. How she knew that is beyond me, but what do I know? She went up to bed at 10pm, and I said, "Okay, I'm gonna watch the Sharks/Maple Leafs game, since you're water will break around 2am."
The water didn't break, though. The wife just went straight to contractions. Big ones. After calling the doc, we jumped into the Wyattmobile and raced to the hospital. (On the way, I was serenaded with "Drive fast . . . but watch the bumps!") After checking in, a nurse took us to the maternity floor.
Sidebar: The knucklehead nurse took no less than five swipes with her security card to open the outer door. Every time she swiped without success, she looked at it like a Frenchman looks at soap. After the fourth try, the missus looked at me with a "Please shoot her" glare. Luckily, self-control won out.
The OB/GYN was paged and the staff hooked her up to the monitors in between blood-curdling screams. She kept telling them that the baby was coming RIGHT NOW! but they weren't listening. I wanted to turn and say, "Ya know, my wife really knows what she's talking about. This is our 37th child," but again, self-control won out. A resident doc came in, checked the wife, turned to the triage nurse and said, "She's 8cm dilated. Get her to a room right now!" Told ya she knows what she's talking about.
(This next part is absolutely true. I write this disclaimer because it seems unbelievable.)
Two nurses grabbed the wife's bed and literally hauled ass down the corridor to the delivery room. At one point, they were going so fast that they nicked a wall. I wanted to shout, "Slow down!," but the entire scene was just too damned funny - and I needed a good story for the blog. When they finally got to the delivery room, she was 9cm dilated.
Sidebar #2: Ya know those stories our parents told us about suffering through 48 hours of labor? Well, we won't have those stories for Julia. From start to finish, the entire delivery lasted 35 minutes. Seriously. The problem with that was since Julia is going to be a NASCAR driver, her speed meant that the wife could not receive her beloved epidural. It was old time hockey, and she was going without painkillers.
So, after 35 minutes of excruciating pain, banshee-like screams, and some ogling of nurses - oh, that was from me - our first (and last) daughter was born. Her weight was good, but since she was 35 weeks, the docs decided to take her to the NICU for a precaution. Since then, we have learned that she is breathing well and eating regularly. Hopefully, she'll be home by the weekend.
All in all, a pretty damned good day.
Now, if you don't mind, I am going to pass out. I am running on four hours sleep (total) for the last two days.