-1I apologize a million times over for the delay…
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Like a whirlwind, my precious waking hours melted into days that morphed into weeks.
The holidays, along with my due date, were literally in front of me. I barely faked it through Thanksgiving, and I was feeling even less prepared for Christmas Spirit. If I was honest, it was the third-and worst-trimester, and impending mommy hood bringing me down.
But I was not prepared for honest.
I was prepared for Martha Stewart Christmas façade.
Once I was released from work, I threw myself into cleaning and preparing the nursery down to a neat stack of fresh newborn diapers on my picture perfect changing table. Once I had obsessed till there was no more, I threw myself into hoarding the "perfect" gifts for everyone on my list. After I had them, I spent endless hours perfecting each crease of carefully selected wrap, and creating my own fanciful embellishments. I was so gung-ho, that I was over the excitement by the time it arrived.
I was now thinking I should have paced myself.
Do not get me wrong, I love George's family, but I couldn't stop the little bubbles of apprehension in my stomach as we left the city for the farm. There was no shaking the feeling that we shouldn't be leaving, even though I couldn't define it. I pleaded with George several times before we took off the day before Christmas Eve, but he just shook me off citing my lack of holiday cheer. Now, laying on the family couch watching the spastic pattern of the tree lights, I found basis for my fear.
The baby hadn't been moving very much, and in the absence of kicks and rolls, I was feeling an undeniable pain low in my back. If I wasn't in labor now, I would be soon. Crap.
As if on a cue, Louise bustled in.
"Izzie, sweetheart! Come on now! I know you aren't feeling so hot, but you have to pull it together! You're bringing my party down, darling, and I can't have it! Now pretend you are like that car full of pretty presents, and make like your bright and shiny. At least for George. He loves you, but I am almost certain you are working his nerves."
"You know I don't mean to, but…"
"But nothing, Izzie. Everyone is out playing in the snow. Use this time to pull whatever you have to together, and come help me make these pies. An ice storm is coming, so we might as well prepare the rations so to speak. We have a generator, but it won't help that much. You gotta save it for some light and heat, not so much baking and eating."
"Did you say ice storm?"
"Oh yeah,! Coming right up on us! Now chop chop! Prepare to be prepared for at least a few days with us!"
"We can't have an ice storm!"
"It might seem a little primitive, but we'll make due! It won't be nearly as bad as it sounds!"
"You don't understand, Louise, we can't be stuck!"
"Cabin fever will not kill you, Isobel Stevens!
"Giving birth here might!"
Like a sign, water suddenly flooded my pants.
"Did your water just break?"
"I think so."
"So you are in labor?"
"I think so."
Louise seized my hand, along with her phone.
"Come on to the bathroom. We need to clean you up and put on some dry clothes. I'll go get George."
I let her lead me on, as I cried in panic. She calmly spoke to the operator as she wrapped a plush towel around my waist. After an abrupt end to her call she threw open the window and leaned out.
"George get in here!"
She slammed the pane resolutely against any protests. Turning back to me, she reached for a change of clothes that she keeps in the linen closet for emergencies. With quick efficiency she stripped me, cleaned me, and dressed me once again. By the time George came in, she had finished with me, and was filling a trash sack with towels, washcloths, and another change of clothing.
"What's going on? More news about the storm?"
I wailed loudly again.
"Izzie, the storm is not that big of a deal."
"George, listen closely. Izzie's water is broken, and she is scared. I called out to the firehouse in the next township to see if we had a chance in getting an ambulance, but their tied up north at a crash where the storm has already hit. I let them know you'd be taking the main route directly in, if they can send any help, but they probably won't. They are going to call to the hospital and let them know you are coming though. You need to go get the truck. Don't bother with your car, it won't make it into town if the weather gets bad. Here's a sack of towels in case you should need them."
We looked at each other stupidly for a moment.
"Her water is broken? Izzie, your water is broken now? Why are you already calling 911? Surely we have time."
"Both of you hush! You are doctors! We are out in the middle of nowhere with an ice storm heading in, so I think it'd be best to let them know who, what, and where just in case worse comes to worst. Now stop fussing so much and go get the truck before my grandbaby is born on my bathroom floor!"
With one last look, George hurried himself outside with the bag of towels. Louise turned back to me.
"You are going to be just fine, Izzie. Let's run get your coat on."
I listened to the first slashes of sleet against the house.
"Aren't you coming? I think you should come."
"I think this baby is the one coming. Right along with the storm. You two run on ahead, and I will have one of the boys run me out when we are clear to go. Don't argue with me either. There's no time to fool with me when you need to beat the clock."
"Louise, I am scared."
"I know you are, but you will be fine. Run on out, and your chances will be better."
With a final kiss to the cheek, she pushed me out to the sleet and snow. George helped me crawl into the cab, and ran around as fast as he could. When he was finally rested behind the wheel, he reached for my hand.
"We are about to be parents, aren't we?"
"Yeah. I'm pretty sure on that one."
"Are you scared?"
"Terrified. You?"
"Same."
I squinted my eyes to gauge the visibility.
"How far is the next hospital?"
"About ten miles."
"We better hurry."
I gritted my teeth with the first bite of a clear contraction.
"Please, hurry, George. Please."
He flipped on the wipers, and put the truck in drive. I hoped silently as I gasped at another contraction that seemed far too soon.
I was begging to the Lord that we would make it in time when the truck suddenly slid out of control and into a banking of deep snow just two miles from the farm.
