it's called the hospital walk of shame

Have you done it?

You know, when you go to the hospital and upon entering the doors all contractions stop. After you put the hospital gown on backwards and find out you're barely dilated you're left alone in the room to nap and/ or do whatever you can to make the contractions come back.

I opted for the nap and when the doctor came into find all the lights off and Rocky and I fast asleep, he kindly woke us up and told us we could go home. We turned in our white hospital Crocs and gathered our hospital bags--containing all the electronics we own and maybe a baby outfit smashed at the bottom and hailed a taxi for home.

The experience was humiliating. It would have been less humiliating if this hadn't been our second trip to the Birth Unit in the last four days. In my defense, the first time I did not actually think I was in labor. I only called the doctor to ask a quick question, but thanks to the language issues, I was asked to come in and see him. I somehow ended up in labor and delivery strapped to a heart rate monitor. I kept telling the nurse (who was the same nurse working this morning) I wasn't in labor I only wanted to see the doctor and finally I was released. But the fact we were so familiar, just made the goodbyes today even more embarrassing.

I'm pretty sure there is a nurses betting pool on how many more times I come in and get sent home in the next week.

I'm not usually one to jump the gun. I was so afraid of being sent home with E, I waited until I couldn't wait anymore--I was admitted right away. The reason I'm so quick to race to the hospital is a combination of Bangkok traffic, fear of having a baby in a taxi and the fact that since I've been here I've met two women who had their second child at home because of traffic and not being able to find a taxi. This all just reminds me of my mom who was sent home from the hospital one day, only to have my sister, Hannah, while my dad was heating up the car in the garage.

The question I have is at what point on this chart, am I running the risk of having my baby at home, in a taxi, or worse case scenario--in a tuk tuk on the way to the hospital.

(Do they realize I look like number ten after climbing the stairs to the sky train in the Bangkok heat?)

 I swore to Rocky I wasn't going back until I was at an eight at least. He's supposed to make sure I have at least one tear coming out my left eye and those same sad-face eye brows. But I really want to have my baby in hospital under medical supervision and I really want an epidural--so maybe the nurses should all up their bets.