Byron and I did something very selfish last night. We stole the Johnson's date night and had a late evening out on the town. They had planned on a evening out to a movie while we watched the kiddos, but we pulled a switcheroo on them. Out the door we rushed to our destined location in one of our favorite locales, Glendale. The evening found me robed in a lovely blue and white gown, with my sweetheart snuggled up next to me as we watched a movie from our private viewing booth, complimentary beverages delivered with sweet precision.
Sounds pretty sweet, right? I guess there are a couple details I should have included. After having contractions straight for over an hour and a half, Byron and I excused ourselves and headed to the hospital. I checked in, changed into my regular hospital attire, settled into that {un}comfy hospital bed, was strapped in and plugged into the monitors, then Byron set up a movie on our laptop. Not exactly our ideal for a night on the town, but it was nice to have some time with my sweetheart, nonetheless.
After about two hours of false labor contractions, things settled down. In the meantime, I readjusted my monitors. When machines didn't pick up the contractions or the baby's heart rate monitor seemed "off," I just reached over and squirted some of that lubrication jelly under the sensor pads on my belly and readjusted things. Byron joked that the next time we come in, they won't even need to come into the room with us, we'll just take care of it ourselves. "Don't worry, we got this!"
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