More Milestones

What we have accomplished in the last year & a half

1 year 1 month

SAID "PURPLE": Maybe because her mother has chosen that as the "color of choice" over Pink. 

DANCES: This seems to be her favorite thing. She loves to move and shake about the house with us.

CLIMBS DOWN THE STAIRS: She is very mobile but hasn't quite allowed herself to fully walk. She can still definitely get around. 

1 year 2 months

TAKES A LOT OF STEPS ON OWN: We are definitely so close to fully walking!

KICKS A BALL: She is playing soccer! We have a Mia Hamm on our hands! Video to prove it!

1 year 4 months

WENT POTTY ON HER TOILET: With Daddy! #2! Not sure how this happened, but we did it! Days later she did #1 with ease, all while reading a fashion magazine.

1 year 5 months

MOVED TO THE BEACH: Early December we moved to Malibu while our house undergoes renovations. Should be an adventure!

1 year 6 months

SAYS 'YES': Before this, it's always been 'no'! Making progress!

2 years 1 month old

STARTED COUNTING: She can count to twelve! Started with counting the stairs and has blossomed into counting other things as well! 

2 years 2 months old

FIRST HAIRCUT: Our favorite hairstylist, Danny Rishoff, cut her hair. He said Vivienne was the most brave and most cooperative baby client yet! 

2 years 5 months

SAYS ABC'S COMPLETELY: Has been saying them for a while now but said them completely this morning! All on her own! 

FAVORITE THINGS TO SAY AT 2 1/2 YEARS:

"Careful Vivi!" Whenever she stumbles! Will also narrate others - i.e. a pillow falls "Careful pillow!", Ozzie tumbles "Careful Ozzie!"

"Hug you" Whenever she wants to be picked up off the ground

"Are you?" When she wants to find someone. Also includes the person's name before it... 

"Ring around the Rosie, Wheels on the Bus, Patty Cake" Loves to sing these songs in their entirety! 

"....turn" Whenever she wants someone to take a turn. Will most likely ask everyone in the room.

"Snuggle couch" Her version of snuggles on the couch. Always includes a blanket that she may or may not have to gather herself. If you try to do it for her, she will say 'No me! No me!'

"Lunchtime guys!" Even if breakfast time, always says this to the dogs when feeding them.

"Mommy's here. I got you!" To her baby dolls. She has such a maternal spirit. Loves to take care of people and her toys.

She is a little parrot! Repeating everything, even difficult multi-syllable words. She speaks in 3-4+ word sentences and more. She narrates everything! She even knows some spanish - numbers to 10 and basic spanish words. One of her favorite games on the iPad is a Spanish matching game that teachers her animals, fruits and vegetables, and she does recognize them really well when said in spanish. 

The Past Months

What we have accomplished in the last year

12 months

GOES TO ZOO & RIDES A CAROUSEL: She was so in awe with riding the carousel. I couldn't stop staring at her as she stared at the world around her.

CLIMBED UP STAIRS: She is desperately on the move! There is no stopping her now! 

11 months

WALKING AROUND THE COUCH: She loves holding on and taking herself for a little ride around the furniture. Thank goodness she has figured out that the couch offers her a way to walk around a room safely. Vivienne is definitely strong willed but reserved and cautious.

WORDS (6.18.15): Says 'yum'. Think she is preparing for her first birthday cake moment!

10 months

STOOD BY HERSELF & TOOK STEPS: This was coupled with her first steps. She took two on 4/25/15! She is also sitting up after lying down! We have a strong girl on our hands.

WAVES BYE-BYE: The first signs she is already wanting to leave the nest. Heartbreaking.

9 months

FIRST WORD: "Dada" which is typical. 

FIRST TOOTH (4/21/15): Bottom right! The tooth fairy has Vivienne on her list now!

CRAWLED: She is a roaming baby now! 

8 months

WILL: She is really starting to assert herself - she yells and hollers but will laugh and smile all in the same breath. She is constantly trying to move. She gets really frustrated when she can't figure out how to get to one place then the next... her walker helps but it seems she wants to be even more mobile. She is continually launching her entire body towards her Daddy and objects she wants. She will tell you EXACTLY how she feels and is very headstrong. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree. 

INDEPENDENCE: She is really great on her own, playing with toys and keeping herself entertained. It is so cute to watch her figure out a toy and problem solve the best she can at such a young age. She loves picking up her sippy cup... she tries to drink out of fiji water bottles like mommy. She wants to use the spoon to feed herself. Our baby is growing up! 

7 months

SITTING UP: Viv is able to sit up on her own but does occasionally wobbles backwards. She is getting better at this daily.

STANDING UP: Our little bundle is no longer a bundle. This little lady LOVES to try to stand up, pull herself up, and walk in her walker. 

WENT IN A POOL: We had our very first swim class with our friends.

6 months

DISNEYLAND: Obviously we appreciated this more than our little one. Athough she slept through most of it, the Jungle Cruise captivated her long enough to keep those beautiful big eyes engaged. The craziest thing, come to find out weeks later, two days before we visited the park there was an OUTBREAK of the measles. Happiest place on Earth no more! Good thing we dodged that infection.

FIRST HANNUKAH & CHRISTMAS: We lit the menorah and she was enthralled by the flickering flame. For Christmas she actually tried to open a present! Pulled the paper off and everything! 

5 months

ROLLED OVER (11/26/14): When Oma, Pappy, Auntie Em, Scooter & Caleb were here to see it in all it's glory no less.  Show off! 

SOLIDS (11/28/14): Tried our first solid food on Thanksgiving. The sweet potatoes were devoured and snorted over with such joy. I have never seen an infant inhale their food the way she did. We definitely have a voracious eater on our hands. Thank goodness because her mother and father LOVE to eat. A lot. 

4 months

QUIRKS: She blows raspberries and has already managed to get Grandpa Fred to obey her command. She does this thing where she stretches her arms out and he raises her in the air. She giggles and holds her hands to her mouth/face. Once she lands back on her feet, she opens her arms out wide for it to happen again.

KISSY FACE: She has mastered the pouty lip kissy face. It seemed to be an obsession one day, then the next, not so much. 

1 month

CAME HOME (7/20/14): We brought our little lady home from the hospital. 

Morning Moments

Sometimes the silence in the morning is beautiful. When our little girl is nestled in our bed, white sheets pulled to her chest, her tiny hands fluttering around her mouth and nose. Next to her, Chris, white sheets pulled to his brooding chest, his massive arms flopping every once in a while, his mouth pursed into a heart shaped pout. I gaze lovingly at them hoping that this moment will never leave. Their mannerisms are so similar, one would immediately know that they were from the same cloth. My heart swells. Her cry sounds. I remember that this silence is golden.

Time moves along...

It's amazing how time simply evaporates when you have a child. The world around you just slips away. One day melts into another with such little perception.  Happy peaceful moments become those where your child is suddenly babbling. Times when your newborn sleeps throughout the day to instances when you can't keep their little limbs still.  There is nothing more important than watching her grow, that sometimes it just makes me want time to stand still so that I can adequately absorb everything. 

There are moments when I find myself just staring. The little peak of hair that is left as a widow down the front of her forehead. The tiny strands that are starting to change tones along her brow bone that will soon become delicate eyebrows. Those batting lashes that frame her doe-like eyes are butterfly kisses against my nose when I hold her face close to mine. That nose, those lips, that chin, those ears. Every round cheek, every chunky crevice, every quick movement, every tiny noise is a miracle to me. How is it possible that I created this?

Then I realize that there are things we must do, sights she must see, words she must hear for her to grow and learn as a small infant. I could just sit all day with her in my arms, swaying peacefully to our own rhythm, but know she needs that time on her own to grasp and gaze and ponder. It is so hard to set her down, so difficult to not place my cheek to her soft porcelain skin. Will I ever not miss her tiny hands clutching my arm as she buries her face deep within my neck? Most likely not. But the thrill of every new development she makes is worth letting go ever so slightly. Well, maybe not today, but it will take every ounce of my being when that day comes, so my mind wanders and wonders what the next moment will bring us as we move along this beautiful thing called her Life.

Her firsts...

When one thinks of first moments, I immediately think of first words, the moment a child first crawls, first steps... all milestones that Chris and I will patiently wait for Vivienne to hit, having no expectations or pressure to have them happen within a certain timeline.

The lovely thing is, when we first saw our little girl smile, it came at a time when we were definitely not expecting it, which is what is the most exciting element of parenting; being surprised by our children.  I was 28 weeks and we were at our last sonogram the Thursday before the baby shower, a week before I gave birth.  We were watching the screen trying to get a better look at our little fetus and right before we were about to give up, an enormous grin filled the monitor, one that seemingly stretched from ear to ear. Did she really just smile IN UTERO? Looking back, maybe she was on to the fact she was coming early and was relaying her zeal. Not only did she smile, but when I realized Chris went back to being on his phone (typical), I began to sweetly reprimand him, "Honey, she just smiled! Put your phone down". As I glanced back to the monitor, she stuck her tongue out playfully. I took it as a gesture to her father - a "so there" for not paying attention. I gleefully approved the message.

So what has happened in the meantime, you ask? What firsts have we experienced? We are 10 weeks into our little girl's life and so far, every waking day includes something worth mentioning.  A new and aggressive hair tug, a hand that lingers with intention alongside our cheek, a happy stare into the depths of our person, a high pitched squeal that sounds a bit too pre-teen. All these firsts that make it so wonderful getting to know Vivienne on her watch, in her time.

She seems a bit more opinionated and present lately. And with each passing day I know that this strong baby personality will flourish into a tiny and independent toddler that will be running this household (as if she isn't already!)  But to be honest I can only stand thinking that far into the future. I already feel like the days with her being so small and fragile are quickly elapsing. But we happily trudge on, looking forward to these moments, to these beautiful memories that are enriching our life; not worried about them moving too quickly, but honored that our presence has been graced by them.

Who Said Anything About 40 weeks?

It's typically 40 weeks for one to carry a fetus and have it develop into a ready-for-the-world human being. Obviously there are exceptions to this estimation, my child being one of those who deviated from the norm. To tell you the truth, if Vivienne could speak, I could imagine her telling us that she had always planned to come this early. She was sending us the signs. They may have been minute, but they were all tell-tale signals. Who is the foolish one now!? We should have been the ones to be more prepared. She on the other hand had done all the work and was ready to play ahead of schedule. Silly parents.

At eight weeks our little bundle of wonder is already eating with increasing fervor, loves engaging those around her, is very playful and so very strong for her age. Today is her due date, 8/21/14, and it just seems so odd to think that she could still be residing in my belly. She is so fully developed and so uniquely herself it honestly boggles my mind that this child could be floating around, suspended in liquid, waiting to greet us. She did us such a favor by coming early and beyond everything, entering into the atmosphere healthy and well.  

40 weeks? Well...not necessary this time around. 

Home Is Wherever I'm With You...

It's been three weeks to the day since we brought our baby home and there has yet to be a moment that has made us feel overwhelmed, unsure, or skeptical of this parenting gig. It just works. She just gels. This girl is one after our hearts with barely any complaints about her life with us. When she wakes, she may fuss because she is hungry but no tantrum is thrown to acquire her milk. When she is uncomfortable because a diaper needs to be changed, she writhes in quiet protest with a grunt here or there. Nothing dramatic. Everything can be solved by Mom & Dad. That's us?! What a crazy feeling to hear our new monikers said aloud!

And under those titles, we seem to work really well together. Chris and I have worked out a system of caring for our little angel that makes it enjoyable and never stressful. It is hard to imagine ever doubting his abilities to be a father. Oh dear, not that I didn't believe in him!  He just happens to be a little clumsy and messy which in my mind correlated to the baby being covered in breast milk with a shirt upside down and a hat on her toes. I also realize that most men are scared of these tiny creatures in the very beginning--  they seem so delicate and fragile -- I thought maybe he would warm up to her after 6 months of fattening her up. A sturdier baby perhaps! Boy, was I wrong. Chris took to Vivienne like a bee to honey. He cradles her perfectly, nestles her to his chest tightly, kisses her sweetly and stares at her with the deepest and most profound looks of genuine curiosity, astonishment and love. He will be the first to pick her up and show you exactly how he can handle her. His pride is palpable.

The beauty of it all is that we have created a home that feels fated. As if this was always what our life would look like; a baby girl smiling, a father beaming, and a mother glowing and in love. This was always how life should be...and now we have it.

Is It Just Me...

I think it is natural for a person to believe that their child is the best at everything they do. I guess it is what you would hope a parent feels toward their little one; pride, joy, ebullience. But seriously, Vivienne is absolutely winning at being preemie. She is willful yet content, tolerant yet vocal. She grips our fingertips with vigor and force then buries her head into our chests and gently coos. Her facial expressions, even early on, are hysterical.  Like an intimate theatrical performance, she takes her stage and winks and frowns, then smiles and chuckles. One moment she is bashful another she is twisting around to take in her outside world, perhaps to play off her surroundings. Then as if a spotlight is shining down on her, she erects herself and her eyes become saucers, starring straight into my heart. Deer in headlights. She is Bambi. 

She makes her father forget there is anything else going on in that moment. She takes me to a place that I never knew existed. She has deeply, and with purpose, placed us on a path to loving someone besides ourselves.  Vivienne has ultimately made us selfless. We do things for her now. She has more than anything created a family, one that loves one another with an intensity never imagined. Now, I would say that makes her pretty special, one could say gifted. But, maybe it's just me.

She Has Arrived

Every parent says the same thing; that bringing a new life into this world is indescribable and the love it creates so fierce that nothing can compare to it. Well, with one fell swoop Vivienne Renée Grant emerged into this world at 8:21 am, her small but mighty 4 lb 2 oz body catapulted into our lives, immediately taking control of our hearts with her jet black hair and vigorous scream.

The first contact I had with our little lady was when Dr. Finke raised her up, Vivienne's long limbs stretching out, connecting with every bit of universe that she could find with her fingertips and toes.  Her hand reached back towards my face as if searching for me, so I took her palm into my hand, reassuring her that I was there. She was directing me without having to say a thing.  She already had me wrapped around her little finger.  Literally. 

They let her rest peacefully on my chest for a brief minute, but long enough for us to gaze intently. Chris and I couldn't take our eyes off of her.  So petite and small, her face so lovely and soft, there couldn't be a more perfect moment. The NICU team quickly evaluated her on my chest and then whisked her away to her exam bed 8 feet away from me. Chris scurried behind her, his eyes never leaving her sight. 

The best news was obvious - she didn't need oxygen, she didn't need any of the preliminary things that would suggest lung distress or major problems. She was breathing on her own and existing in this world just fine. They eventually moved her out of the room to the NICU nursery, and Chris followed her there to make sure she arrived safely. It seems a doting father was also born that day.

And there in the NICU she remains until the doctors clear her - to rejoin her family, her puppies, her nursery, her home. We visit with her every day, keeping her company and watching her grow behind her plastic edifice. Her personality already suggests a tolerant yet strong-willed little girl, happy and content to have us as her parents. Yet we are the ones blessed to have her as our daughter.

The Last Stretch

We are given a game plan. Finke doesn't think the baby is coming yet. She seems completely comfortable sitting at the cliff's edge at 8 centimeters. The magnesium, although burning up my entire body, is doing it's job. The contractions are still coming about 5-8 minutes apart but have slowed. Every now and again Finke stops mid-sentence, "Do you know you are going through a contraction right now?" he offers. "Oh yes, I know. They aren't that terrible."  I must still be caught in that dastardly fog. 

Covered with wet towels to cool my body down, it is now a waiting game. By seven in the evening I am still dealing with contractions, and Chris is wondering why I am so adverse to getting an epidural. He has already asked the nurse if he can have it instead. Men.

Finke comes in for one last check to see where we are and after he assures that she is resting nicely with no changes, decides to go back home which is 5 minutes away . "Now if you start to feel like you want to push, just let the nurse know, and I will be right back." 

Within minutes of his exit, I feel the urge to push. Am I projecting again? I call for the nurse and she rushes to my bedside. "Let me check before we call Finke back," she coos.  Apparently I haven't changed dilation. It is just a figment of my imagination. I try to have her reposition me and she suggests that I try to get some sleep. I am so worried that I am going to have the baby before her second shot in 20 hours that it is all I can think about. I become increasingly uncomfortable and wonder how I am going to last through the night.

My verve for going drug-free is thwarted when the nurse comes in and informs me Finke has given the order to administer the last steroid at 3 am, 12 hrs earlier than originally scheduled. I just have to last until then. That seems like a tangible goal if it weren't for the intense discomfort I am having with the contractions coming every 8 minutes.  "Just speak with the anesthesiologist," Chris urges.  I realize at this moment I need to do whatever is best in this situation. If getting stabbed in the back with an enormous needle helps my odds of lasting through the night, comfortable and without tension, then so be it. Did I mention I hate needles? Let's just say I am more fearful of that epidural needle than childbirth.

I relent willingly after quizzing the anesthetics doctor about possible side affects and any issues that would prevent our little lady from emerging into this world less coherent. She assures me that it is safe for both me and the baby. Needle down and legs numb, we are back in business. My contractions go from 8 minutes apart to 15, then disappear. It seems I will be able to wait it out, and perhaps even sleep!

By 1 am, I am still up, fidgeting and alert. The pressure for me to make it to 3am is still existent and my heightened awareness of the time is not subsiding. These last hours seem like eternity made even more stressful when the nurse continues to suggest every other half hour that my water has broken. "Oh! I think your water broke! Let me check. Oh wait, sorry, it's still intact!"

Over and over I am thrust into sadness thinking my body couldn't wait and Viv will now have to manage life without that extra security blanket of medicine.  This feeling is immediately followed by intense joy when the verdict is overturned. For once, I am thankful the nurse is wrong. 

3 am finally rolls in, my eyes are barely withstanding earth's gravity. I can sense the nurse is in my proximity, but I am too tired to check. With one searing pinch, I know exactly where she is, and where that needle has placed itself. My hind quarter is not smiling. I made it, steroids pulsing through my system, I finally feel overcome with peace. My eyelids follow suit and gently shut.

Over time, I start having dreams of the little one arriving, and am startled awake when one gets a little too real. I gaze over at Chris who is nestled in the pullout couch, feeling so close yet so far away from him. The clock reads 6:10am. I hear the door crack open and my nurse comes in, followed by my shining knight, Dr. Finke. I am not sure what it is, but he has such a pleasant aura about him. I'm glad he is mine.

"So we are going to break your water at 7:30am and start things moving," he chimes. "Are you sure you don't want to wait a little longer?" I plead. I am thinking, if I have made it this far, maybe she wants to stay in there. I want every odd on my side.  If she wants to wait until Thursday, I am totally fine with this. Dr. Finke assures me that he is not only doing this for her, but for me. The risk of infection is too high to wait any longer. We accomplished getting the last steroid, any extra time now is irrelevant for her growth and would probably only provide a few more hours in the long run.

Chris stirs and stretches as the nurse and Finke leave the room. "Did you hear that?" I softly whisper to him. "I have heard everything everyone has said all night. I didn't sleep very well."  "Only another hour until we meet our girl," his wellbeing obviously not at the forefront of my mind. I realize immediately that I need to have everything ready, namely, my music. It is on my birth plan and if I can't have anything else, I will definitely be filling my labor environment with song. 

7:30am has arrived. Dr. Finke briskly walks into the room and begins to prep. A nurse stands beside him on my right side, Chris is sitting in a recliner, holding my hand on my left. "Are you ready?" Dr. Finke beckons. "I think so. As ready as I will ever be." I am somehow relaxed. Maybe it's the Neil Young  Radio Station I have been playing for the past 15 minutes.

With remarkable timing, a new song begins playing, a piano verse intro and Chris and I immediately look at one another. We both know this song and it just seems so fitting. "This is perfect," Chris assures me. The NICU team reemerges, waiting patiently for their cue near a baby table.  Chris and company begin counting down from 10 as Elton John serenades "Your Song" beginning my hour long journey bringing our little girl into the world. Tears stream down my face as I tighten my grip on Chris' hand, yet I am not scared, I am calm. This moment feels almost familiar, like home, and somehow it's exactly how I dreamt it.

Labor Pains

As we rush down the halls towards the labor and delivery rooms, my heart doesn't even have time to race. It is caught up wondering what my body could possibly be doing to make it feel like it is in labor. I am obviously still in denial. 

I am taken past a slew of doors and finally stop at an open one that is stashing two nurses. "I have a woman in labor, which room is open" the nurse exclaims to the others. "I actually don't know what this is?" I blurt out. "It could be food poisoning." Yep, still in denial. 

Room 15 ends up being our lucky number (oddly enough, it has been mine since high school). I am immediately asked to disrobe, given a gown to wear, while vitals, health and pregnancy history are instantaneously assessed. After about 10 minutes, my husband Chris bounds into the room (he definitely got lost since the parking garage). His expression is an amalgam of curiosity, confusion and shock. He seems flustered so I try to act calm to squelch his nerves. Just then the on-call doctor strides in with a straight face, "You made it."  "Yep, came straight here. Not sure what this is", I chortle.  "Well, let's see where you are."  Pause for uncomfortable examination.  "Whelp, you're 8 centimeters dilated. You'll probably have her in the next few hours." 

What? Come again? He can't be serious. He must have a soft spot for humor, yet no one is laughing. I immediately want my doctor; my happy, handsome and loving doctor that will make this all better.  I am told that he is on his way, as I am hooked up to magnesium and shot with a steroid in my backside- all for the sake of little Vivienne who is trying to bum-rush into June. She must have not wanted to be a Leo. 

I am settled by the fact that my birth plan is still somewhat intact if Dr. Finke arrives. That feeling is quickly vanquished when a team of doctors fill the labor unit, pulling on scrubs and gearing up for what they seem to think is Vivienne's immediate arrival. The NICU team is ready for her stage entrance. I am wondering if she will send me the same signal she just sent them. 

Chris and I are briefed by the NICU lead doctor about the best and worst case scenarios. My body immediately retreats into a fog as she spouts off each way the baby can be affected by being pre-term. It feels like I am caught somewhere between complete unconsciousness and paralyzed but intense alertness. As she goes through her speech, hitting major organs and issues, Chris' hands are clasped together; switching positions from cradling his face to falling limply between his thighs. "I am not going to pay attention until you get to the brain," he manages. "We'll get there," she reassures. I swallow hard.

Just then Dr. Finke magically appears near my bedside; sweet, calm, and smiling. Is there a halo of light around him? I am definitely projecting. "She isn't going into labor just yet, we are going to try to slow everything down. We want the baby in there for at least two rounds of steroids for her lungs." Relief floods over me. "Oh great, than what are we doing here now?" the NICU lead chuckles. "Everything is going to be fine. If you need anything, please let us know. We will see you when she is here," the NICU team swiftly exits the room as swiftly as they appeared.

Vivienne Renée Grant

I'm not sure when it happened exactly. It was like an on and off switch. One moment, I was sitting idly in bed waiting for movement and fetal kicks, the next we were frantically rushing out of a Santa Barbara hotel cottage, fiercely in denial that parenthood was absolutely imminent. 

But I guess there was a timeline. A very distinct one. In the moment, the baby's warning signs were utterly confusing and interpreted in a million different ways. She was 31 weeks in utero and my mind was telling me she was way too early to arrive.  Could this just be a bad crab cake I had at my friend's wedding the night before? Food poisoning must be causing these cramps. That's it! She is safe and sound in my belly.

It took charting the pattern of cramping at 9:50am, each sharp undulation moving 3-4 minutes apart for my mind to derail from the original hypothesis and to begin its state of panic. It couldn't be.  It can't be!  We are two hours from our hospital in Los Angeles and she is just too early.  At 11am, I started nuzzling my husband Chris out of bed like Goldilocks - not too hot or not too cold - my version of calm and collected. "Honey, I don't want you to overreact, I am sure it is nothing, but I am having these really weird cramping sensations and I am not sure what they could be..." I wanted him to tell me to brush them off as nothing. Instead he suggested I call the doctor. Great. Time to face my fears. 

The truth was I had already written a mea culpa to my Doctor suggesting that it could be labor but probably just Braxton Hicks, right?!  I told him everything that I knew from the last 24 hours but it was 11am; I had written him an hour before and still no word on what to do. I buzzed the on-call doctor after prodding from Chris.  The doc suggested eating something and start heading back to LA.  Nothing dramatic could really happen in two hours time, he reassured.

Two wrongs turns, a close encounter with a motor vehicle's front end at a two-way stop sign and one valiant attempt at getting on the right on-ramp to LA, which as you can guess was botched, we were finally headed back home. Along the way Chris and I threw out different ideas - "Should we stop at a Santa Barbara Hospital? Should we go home, drop off the dogs, then go to Saint John's since it is near the house? But that isn't where our doctor is...should we just go to Cedars?" It didn't help our thought process when every 2 minutes the pain was getting worse and my ability to hide it flouted. I would writhe with pain in the most subdued fashion - gripping the handles of the car, repositioning every few moments. Nothing helped.

It wasn't until we hit traffic at the 405 & 101 highway merge points that it finally became apparent that we really needed to get to the hospital, and doing that in record time would be appreciated. The pain was coming every minute and a half.  Sharper, increasingly agonizing. I was still directing Chris from a mobile app. Turn right, no the NEXT right! Slow down! Speed up! Go through the stop! Wait, stop! Every winding turn down Mulholland Drive was sending me into bouts of shock  - the seatbelt restricted my movements but by doing so it was causing me excruciating pain. The tug of war my body was feeling with the car careening down the hillside, hazard lights blaring, was enough for me to lose my cool. I was nervous. Really nervous. I could not have this baby in the car. I couldn't do that to my husband. He isn't exactly a hands-on type of guy.

2:20pm we finally tear into the Cedars-Sinai parking garage after my husband was doubting every entry point I suggested. "This is the wrong way! This isn't the right way!!" he shouted. "Yes it is! I was the one who took the hospital tour months ago!" I retorted angrily. We sat at the call box, his face blank, "What do I do??!" "Push the button and take the ticket!!!" I scream. As we pull in and rush to the valet area where no one seems to be working, Chris lunges out of the car and starts walking towards a nurse that happens to be there with what looks to be a new mother and her child being discharged. I can barely get myself out of the car. The pain has now taken away my ability to walk. Fabulous.

I yell for Chris to grab a wheel chair, which he dutifully finds, with a nurse, and brings to me. They sit me down and the nurse tells him to park and go to the fourth floor.  I begin pleading with her that my husband is terrible with directions and we must not leave him. He will never find us. Chris assures me it's fine, he will find me. I worry as I am wheeled away. The new mother I pass looks at me with an understanding glance.

We approach the elevators and a happy father with a car seat in tow is waiting. He smiles at me and when inside the doors ascending to the fourth floor congratulates me. My only response as tears streak down my face is "She's too early!!!" The poor man looks shocked as the nurse pushes me out the doors to the labor ward.