A Scare

I usually get up in the morning a couple hours before everyone else. Gives me some time to make some extra strong coffee and blog a bit and read the news. Just a little time to myself.

However, yesterday when I was going upstairs to get dressed, I noticed our bedroom light was on a bit early.

I looked in and saw Kristie with a very worried look on her face.

I froze. Kristie doesn't worry. At least she doesn't show it.

"He hasn't moved," she said, and her voice broke a little. She began to shake her tummy, hoping to wake Cash up and get him moving around.

"Something is wrong. I feel different," she said.

That was enough for me. Off to the emergency room Kenz, Kristie, and I went at 7.

It was the longest 16 mile drive I can remember.

Kenzie was great while Kristie worried and I prayed.

Finally, we pulled up to the hospital in TRF and ventured in.

We should have gone to Crookston.

I have heard horror stories about the TRF emergency room, mostly from a colleague whose daughter had a split lip. When they ran her in, the staff told them that there wouldn't be a doctor in until 6 - this was around five. So they gave her ice and towels for the blood. When the doctor finally sauntered in, he saw how bad the cut was and said, "This is bad. We need to stitch this immediately." And they did, minus any anesthesia. Imagine holding your child down while Civil War era medical practices are applied . . . in a modern hospital!

So when we encountered the two receptionists, a guy and girl, I knew we were in trouble. They may have just been finishing an all night shift, but, I'm sorry, if you work in a hospital that has an emergency room, please show a modicum of concern and urgency.

Is that too much to ask for?

The guy attempted to register us, but he struggled to figure out how to do it. He couldn't manage to put down exactly how many weeks Kristie was pregnant.

Then he tried to spell our last name!

"R-E-Y-N-O-L-D-S" Kristie said.

"R-E-Y-L-O-N-D-S" he repeated.

"No," Kristie said and repeated it.

The girl working next to him, rolled her chair over to him and pointed at the screen.

He didn't ask for it again, so we assumed it was right.

But he had it wrong again.

Finally, Kristie spelled it again and said, "Reynolds. As in Reynolds' Wrap."

Oh lord!

All while we're panicking that there is something wrong with our little baby boy!

Kristie handed me her insurance card, which also included her name (spelled correctly) and she began to pace.

"Insurance?" he asked.

I handed him the card.

They began to attempt to transfer this information in to what must certainly be the world's most complex computer system.

I had had enough so I went to pull our Highlander around to the parking lot.

Fortunately, when I got back inside, I saw that finally - after 15 minutes - Kristie was talking with a nurse.

Once we were actually admitted and met with our nurse, it was great. Our nurse was awesome and quickly got Kristie into a room and hooked up to a baby monitor.

I held Kenzie and dreaded the results.

It seemed to take forever for the nurse to strap the monitor around Kristie's belly.

Then she put on the heart monitor. Nothing. I couldn't hear a thing, and my heart broke.

Then she said, "Oh just a second. It's a new machine and the volume is turned down."

When she cranked it up, I instantly heard Cash's heart pounding away.

Let me tell you what a relief that was.

Suddenly all the problems I had been facing at six - getting to school early for our PLC meeting, grading College Comp II papers, motivating several of my College Comp I students to get going on their research papers, looking at a new home and trying to sell ours - all those things just seemed so trivial.

I could have sat with Kenzie in my lap and listened to Cash's little heart beat all day long.

The nurse informed us that she was going to leave Kristie hooked up to the monitor for 45 minutes just to make sure everything was okay.

I took out my cell phone to let my principal know I'd miss the PLC meeting and that everything was okay (I can't take a phone call or miss a period without staff and students thinking Kristie has gone into labor).

We sat there basking in relief.

That's when Kristie noticed her hospital band.

She chuckled and said, "Look at this, hon."

There was our last name: "Reynolonds."

How fitting!