Getting closer to the delivery date. Looks pretty definite at this point: Hannah will join us on May 6, soon after 8 a.m., unless she decides to come sooner on her own. Otherwise, the doctor will take things into our own hands, so to speak.

The latest update involves Janet more than the rest of us. The simplest way to update is probably to cut and paste some from my journal.

25 April 2003

With Janet at Dr. Slater's office. She has suffered intensely from a toothache for two days. Up all night with the pain, plus I had incredible abdominal pain from 4 a.m. until now. We are both exhausted. But she has seen Dr. Spencer this morning, gotten some painkiller and antibiotic, and now Dr. Slater is considering whether to do the extraction while Janet is in for the C-section. It would be good, and the fastest way to get her tooth taken care of, but it will also change the anesthesia picture at the hospital.

Hannah is moving around. She has moved over to Janet's left side. It makes her look lopsided, like one of those Wal-Mart carts that have been hit in the parking lot a few times.

Janet is in a bad way. When she sits up to lessen the tooth pain, her feet swell. When she lays down to prop up her feet, her tooth hurts more. Classic damned if you do or don't scenario.

Meanwhile, the last speech round is supposed to start today, and I'm nervous as to whether I will make it to class on time. It is now 11:10 a.m.; I have to be at work by 12:30 if I am to make the speech round.

Update: they're going to do an emergency extraction on Janet. I've called to get someone to put up a sign on the door of my classroom....

Still, this is going to be best for Janet and the baby—will get her out of pain with the least risk to the baby. It is 11:48 a.m.

12:37 p.m. I'm sitting in the dentist's office conference room. Janet wanted me in there with her, but Dr. Slater, understandably, doesn't want anyone else in there except his staff and the patient. I'll bet if he didn't there would be more fainting, etc., than in a delivery room. Sights, sounds, smells, all designed to raise the hackles and the breakfast. Although selfishly I am just as glad to be in here, I don't want Janet to be alone in there. I know from experience that Dr. Slater takes good care of his patients—I don't worry about what will happen with me not there, as if I am somehow the Dental Protector. Rather, I'm aware of how scared she is, and I know my presence makes that somehow marginally better, even though I feel helpless. I'd rather be in there for her sake.

I tried to call Zachary, but the cell phone doesn't work inside the office, and since they know where I am and can come get me if they need something, I don't want to leave. I hate leaving Zach in the dark, but he'll just have to wait.

A nurse just came in and said Janet was perfectly comfortable, calm, appeared to be doing just fine. I'm glad she's not scared. Maybe they've given her something that just won't let her be.

3:50 p.m. With Janet at the hospital for a non-stress test. She came through the extraction fine, although she still doesn't like to talk. Hannah isn't moving well, and we've learned that giving Janet juice wakes Hannah up and gets her moving around. Janet can't use a straw, though, because of the dental work, so she is currently spooning ice and juice into her mouth. They asked her what flavor, and she didn't want to talk, so she just pointed (Janet's most common backup mode of communication). We figured out she was pointing to the nurse's purple smock, which meant she wanted grape. It's frightening sometimes how much we can understand each other.

It seems to have done the trick, though; I can hear Hannah's heart rate shoot up from time to time, and see a mark or two where Janet has indicated that Hannah is moving. The march to B-day continues.