Hmmm where do I start? So I come home and there's Sarah being her typical Supermodel sexy self wearing Bib coveralls, that's all too! All six feet of pure sexual temptation, her long brown hair flowing in the June breeze, a come hither look in her eyes, bright red lipstick, her nipples poking thru a red lacy bra, red thigh high boots and net stockings held up by her vinyl garter... whoops I said she was wearing Bibs didn't I?  Sorry about that, but it has been since November since we...uh.. you know, made babies, and well I've began to fantasize,.....but as we all know now, truth is stranger than fantasy.

It all really started the night of February 3rd. The week before the electric company finally got the wiring right in my garage and I had been busting my rump trying to get the four jobs done that I had planned on getting paid on so I could afford to take a week or so off when the Broadus was born. (Except I didn't know it was Broadus yet.) It was getting cold in the shop, and I had run out of kerosene for the heater, so I decided to finish striping two gas tanks in the house, so I shut off the lights and carried the two tanks into the house. I asked Sarah to come into the kitchen and look at them and see how she thought we stripe them. She was sitting in the office and stood up to walk toward the kitchen, she took about three steps and said, I think I stood up too quick, I feel dizzy. She held onto her stomach and took another step into the kitchen and said I have to sit down. Then it blew. She describes it as water balloons hitting the floor, but let me tell you I was there, I had a better view, I would say it was more like dropping a pitcher of lemonade, except it was red.

Me and the dogs just stood there with retarded looks on our faces. It sounds dumb now, but Sarah's boxer, which she did attachment parenting to, looked so concerned, he looked at the floor, and at her with this really worried look on his face. I guess it was the fact that I realized I was staring at the dog's reaction that I thought, "Duh, do something." Sarah sat down, and I went into the bedroom, changed into a clean T-shirt, grabbed the list of phone numbers for Meredith, and slipped on my coat, and said, we're going to the Hospital. I gave Meredith the list and said call these numbers and here's the keys to my car. She was in shock, the blood, the flurry of activity, and the dumb look on the dogs' faces were too much for her. She reacted by getting a warm wash rag to wash the blood off of Sarah's legs, which were being quickly covered again. Sarah yelled to give her a towel, and we shot out the door.

I know I was in shock, this was worse than I had imagined, I felt as guilty as any person could feel, I had the life of my wife and our baby in my hands right now, and I was an hour and ten minutes away from the hospital and the doctors that could help her.

Now if I could jump off onto a tangent for a second, let me inform you that I hate doctors. Hate, really ain't the right word, it's not strong enough, I detest doctors, I think they're all quacks, I totally distrust them, and still believe, that except for specialty surgeons, there is nothing they can do for me that I can't do. Set bones, straighten broken noses, heal the flu, easy.  I always felt that you're only as sick as you can afford too be.  It's only important that you know that because when I'm around doctors I put off quite the, "get away from me now" vibe, and it works.

But I knew this was out of my hands, I knew Dr. Lubrano, his beer gut, and team of trained assistants (which included a big German girl named Pam who scares the hell out of the staff nurses, I like her.) could save the day. I have been driving since I was about six. I owned my own car when I was fourteen, and drove to school when I was fifteen. (In Kentucky farm kids get away with murder.) I had only one legitimate ticket, when I got caught drag racing my dad when I was seventeen, but it never showed up on my record. I have ridden my chopper in the toughest of cities, split lanes at eighty crossing the Brooklyn bridge once, and road raced against the best. My only wrecks, (also unrecorded) were my fault and I always corrected those mistakes. I take great pride in my driving ability. I also knew I had to make the ride somewhat comfortable on Sarah. I wanted to keep her conscious, so I talked to her, trying violently to stay calm, I didn't want her to detect any panic in my voice, even though I was screaming inside. I swear I couldn't hear for the flurry of thoughts in my head.

I made it off our hill fine, and across the bridge into Kentucky smoothly. The first town you come too is Warsaw, which has three cops.  It is a redneck river town, with lots of factories. The cops are harsh.  I made a decision not to put the flashers on yet, because I didn't want to have to explain to the cop that we couldn't stop and wait for an ambulance, or go to a different hospital. I watched my speed, which was supposed to be thirty-five, but I hit forty-five, fifty. We made it thru town. Great. We then got stuck behind a slow car, which I passed, all the while, talking to Sarah calmly, " How you doing honey, oh you wouldn't believe what Howard Stern did this morning...That girl from the new 007 was on, and Fred was doing this Woody Allen imitation..." Right before we got to the turn off for the interstate, we got caught behind a semi that was also turning. Sarah asked if I could pass it. I was already half way around him in a blind curve. God, if you have forgiveness for those nights I cursed you for making me ride in the rain, let me have it now.

We drove up a really windy hill to the interstate. I hit the interstate, like Man O' War in turn three in any race he was in. I immediately put the pedal to the floor. I was doing ninety-five at least. I put the flashers on and stayed in the fast lane. I couldn't believe the number of idiots who would get in front of you and stay. I passed one guy on the berm. He flashed his lights at me and try to stay with me. He even had his flashers on for a minute. I figured he'd seen the Michigan plates on Meredith's Explorer and figured he'd show us where the hospital was. Screw him, he couldn't keep up.

I knew we were making good time, and Sarah was still talking. Actually she was talking about seeing Airplanes, but damn if I ever saw them. We hit the Florence, Kentucky area, which was minutes away from the hospital, I was in the fast lane with the peg buried. I told her that I was going to slow down, so I didn't get pulled over this close, and I needed the slow lane for our exit. She asked me how fast we were going after I slowed down. Eighty-five I said.

There was the hospital exit. Finally I thought I can legally run stop lights! We passed a cop on the hospital's street running about seventy (probably a thirty-five MPH zone) he didn't even move. Sarah asked me to take it easy on the turns because it caused the blood to gush out. Eaak, back to reality, I had just drove the race of a lifetime, for a second, I forgot.

We pulled into the emergency room doors, I ran in and said "MY WIFE IS SARAH THOMPSON, SHE HAS PLACENTA PREVIA, SHE'S IN THE CAR, SHE'S HEMORRHAGING, WE NEED A STRETCHER NOW." The girl sitting behind the desk just looked at me like "duh" she had this blank look on her face and rolled her eyes at me as she walked over to the wheelchairs. Now my dad had always taught me to respect women, and never talk to them, in a manner you wouldn't want mom to be talked to. But sometimes dad, you gotta do things differently. I called her every disgusting description of her gender that I could think of. I was a good foot taller than she was, I was in her face and closing. Another nurse in a uniform, got in between us, she said, "Lets go outside and see what you got." I repeated my original statement, and called her a few choice names for not believing me, as she walked to the Explorer. She opened the door and lifted the blanket and saw all the blood, and I thought she was going to pass out. They got a stretcher pronto. I parked the Explorer, and ran thru the hospital to catch up with the stretcher. My boot laces untied, and wearing the grey T-shirt and jeans I would wear for three more days.

We hit the assessment room, and the crew went to work, Sarah was going into shock, I was surprised and relieved that the nurse got the IV in, that has always been a problem with Sarah. Her doctor was not in yet, and they were undressing her, and getting her ready for surgery. The knock out drug guy was there (I can't spell it, sue me.) and he was explaining what drugs they were going to use, yet nobody had told us, YES YOUR GOING TO HAVE THE BABY NOW! The floor doctor came in, and  she was all of twenty-five, she had one of those college girl haircuts, where her hair was longer in the front than the back, we called them devil's locks in the eighties, but now she kept twirling her hair, and sticking it behind her ear, and kept saying, I'm the resident doctor, and I might have to do your surgery. I gave her the "Over my dead body, bitch" vibe, and it worked. I was stern when I asked questions, and finally one of Sarah's doctors arrived, not the one we'd hoped for, but a specialist just the same. He said, we're having a baby now.  They told me to put on scrubs, as soon as I went into the bathroom, they rolled her out, I once again ran to OR. Outside the OR, one of the nurses explained to me that this was surgery, and that I would just be in the way. I ignored her, I stood in the doorway, and the doctor motioned for me to come in. He said if you feel faint, leave the room.  Sarah was out, had tape across her eyes. I sat down on a stool by her head, and rubbed her forehead, and talked to her. I'm telling you seconds later I stood up to see, and there was a head. And a cry, and the rest of his body, instantly I calmed down. They looked at the clock. 10:25. (We had left the house at 9:30, I looked at the clock on the way out the door.)

They weighed the baby, listened to his lungs, and gave him to me. I don't know if they heard my adventures down stairs, or if I was still vibing, but from what I hear, the father is not supposed to stand over his wife while she has her uterus out on the table, holding a second old baby. Hey I did! Me and Broadus stood there for another hour, while the surgeons did their stuff. One of them was a black guy with really long arms, and hands, he handled the instruments like a jeweler. he talked to me the whole time. I think he was from Boston. It seemed like he was standing two feet away from the table. The nurse counted swabs, the doctors worked like an Indy pit crew, and I stood there with a stupid grin on my face.

They said Sarah had to go to recovery, and that the baby had to go to the nursery, and I could wait in the room. Now way I said, Sarah's mom should be here by now, she can meet Sarah in recovery, I'm staying with the baby, gawd only knows what kind of communist ideas they could have put in his head, if I wasn't there.

A nurse escorted us to the nursery, where, we immediately were told by the head nurse, that there wasn't enough room. Luckily before I blew up, my nurse bitched her out, and said make room, and get help. I sat in the nursery for about three hours, a bunch of nurses came in and check in on us. Broadus held my hand the whole time. It was the most magical thing that could ever have happened, I'm tearing up now, just remembering that experience. I know I cried...that was when I wasn't laughing, a few of the women came in wanting to take their babies for a walk or what not, I was wearing scrubs. They kept talking to me like I was the doctor. I had a week old beard at that. I think I said something like ..." Uhh duh, gabba..do..fooo. heee..,uhhhh." They just looked at me like I was speaking Chinese dialect in sign language.

Sarah came into the nursery to see Broadus on a stretcher, and we waited until she was out of recovery and settled in. The doctor came in, shook my hand, and asked me when I was going to give him the bad news about circumcising him. I said we weren't, (shit we'd been thru enough crying, gnashing of teeth, and blood tonight) he smiled and asked where I was from. Mars I guess.

There's more to the story, but it gets real unbelievable after this, (It was Sarah's mom who almost got security called on her, not me!) Sarah and me and Broadus met back at the room at four in the morning, and she said, Oh look it's snowing.  The snow turned into a blizzard, and for three days it dumped on us. We got like three feet of snow in three days. If I would have had to driven in that, Sarah and Broadus would have been dead. I thanked god again.

I'll cut it off here, and go burp Broadus as he is calling me....oh yeah, for those of you who haven't popped yet, heres a little secret that they don't tell you in sex ed. Forget about sleeping all the way thru the night.....forget about sleeping for more than two hours straight again. (If they would only use that as an example, teen pregnancy would decline rapidly. teenage girls would wear chastity belts.) Oh well I'm fantasizing again, I'll leave it at that, and go watch G.I. Jane. I hear it sucks, but Hey Demi Moore shaves her head!

    ~ Sarah's DH, John

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