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.