Chapter 7 - The Final Countdown
December arrived with a biting Chicago blizzard that dumped eighteen inches of snow across the city, turning the streets into a quiet, frozen wonderland.
Inside our condo, however, it felt like spring.
We had spent the weekend assembling the last of the baby gear, organizing tiny cotton socks, and arguing good-naturedly over whether Claire’s mobile should feature woodland animals or celestial stars (celestial stars won, mostly because Theo argued that astrophysics was a better foundational hobby than woodland folklore).
On a Tuesday evening, exactly two weeks before my official due date, we were sitting on the living room sofa eating homemade pasta when my water broke.
It didn't happen like it does in the movies—there was no dramatic gasp or sudden puddle across a crowded restaurant floor. I simply stood up from the sofa, felt a sudden, unmistakable pop, and looked down at Theo with wide eyes.
Theo dropped his fork with a metallic clatter that echoed off the hardwood floor.
He didn't panic.
He didn't freeze.
In fact, his movements became terrifyingly efficient, like an air traffic controller handling an emergency landing.
“Is it time?” he asked, his voice dropping into that calm, low register he used during high-stakes corporate negotiations.
“It’s time,” I said, feeling a sudden wave of sharp, rhythmic pressure wash over my lower back.
Within forty-five seconds, Theo had our coats on, the “Claire Emergency Bag” slung over his shoulder, my medical folder in his hand, and the front door unlocked.
“Can you walk down to the garage, or do I need to carry you?” he asked, already holding the elevator button.
“I can walk,” I laughed through a sharp contraction. “Stop acting like I’m made of glass.”
May you like
“You are currently carrying our most valuable asset,” he replied deadpan, though his eyes were wide with a fierce, terrified tenderness that made my heart swell.
The drive through the blizzard-choked streets of Chicago to Northwestern Memorial Hospital took twenty-two minutes, but in Theo’s hands, it felt like an Indy 500 pit stop. He parked illegally in the emergency drop-off zone, threw his hazard lights on, and had a wheelchair waiting before I even stepped out of the passenger seat.
