Chapter 21: The Cadence of Life

Coos Bay, Oregon
November 30, 1997

It was dark in the room, a bit chilly since one of the windows was partially open, and Laura Kingsley was on her right side, listening to the rhythmic sounds of the ocean waves crashing outside and her husband’s slow, steady breathing from right next to her. She was having trouble sleeping—a rarity for her—because she just could not seem to get comfortable tonight. Yes, she was as big as a freaking whale (not really, she was actually quite petite for such an advanced state of pregnancy, but this was her self-impression) and had been in a constant state of discomfort for the past several weeks, but it had not hampered her sleeping ability until now.

She shifted herself from her right side to her left, a difficult operation indeed, and one that momentarily caused a disruption in Jake’s breathing pattern. She thought he might wake up, but after a few moments he settled back into the sleep pattern. She took a glance at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand. It was 1:33 AM. There was still a lot of sleep time left, and it was Sunday, the last day of the Thanksgiving break, so she did not have to get up early anyway. But still, she did not like being awake in the middle of the night while everyone else slept. It was not a familiar situation to her. She took a deep breath, snuggled into Jake a little bit more to capture his body heat, and tried to close down her mind and listen to the waves breaking.

Just as her mind finally started to unplug the connections and drift off toward the first level of sleep, Cadence gave her a particularly enthusiastic kick right in the bottom of her rib cage, jolting her back up. She groaned a little, silently chastising her unborn daughter. Cadence had been doing that a lot lately, particularly over the past few days. She rubbed her belly right over Cadence’s butt, hoping that would sooth her. It did not. She was rewarded only with another kick in the ribs. She took a deep breath—that one had hurt—and then rolled onto her back, even though she was not supposed to do that because the size and weight of her not-so-little passenger could compress her vena cava, thus hampering blood return to her heart. Still, it felt good to be on her back, even if it was just for a few moments. But this pleasure was offset by the realization that she had to pee again. This was also something that had developed over the last week or so. Cadence’s head was now fully engaged in her pelvis, which had relieved the pressure from her diaphragm, making it easier for her to breathe, but compressed her bladder, making it hold only about half of what it normally did before the urgency sensation started.

Knowing that she would become extremely uncomfortable in the next ten minutes if she did not address the situation, she pulled the covers back and began the little rolling back and forth motion she needed to employ when getting out of bed. After only three rocks, she was able to get her bare feet on the floor and she stood up. She was dressed in her green maternity pajamas, her favorite pair. She waddled her way over to the bathroom attached to the master suite and turned on the light. She dropped her pajama bottoms and the thick maternity panties she wore and sat down on the cold seat. As she started to pee, she took a look at the maxi-pad that was stuck to the inside of the panties. She had been having a slow but steady flow of secretions ever since losing her mucous plug. She decided that the pad could use a change so she ripped it free and dropped it into the garbage can. As she was pulling a replacement from a box that sat next to the toilet, she felt a cramp ripple through her abdomen, moving from back to front.

“Ow!” she moaned as it struck her, making her wince. It lasted maybe fifteen seconds and then eased off and disappeared completely. It had not been horrible—just a little more intense than a period cramp—but it definitely caught her attention. Could it possibly be a labor pain? She was overdue at this point in the game so that seemed a distinct possibility. But she also had not pooped in three days now—thank you again little Miss Cadence, destroyer of routine bodily functions—so it might be a bowel cramp. She had had a few of those lately, as well as sporadic Braxton-Hicks contractions over the last month, but this had not really felt like either of those things.

She finished up her business, wiping herself (with some difficulty thanks to her belly) and replacing the pad. She pulled up her panties and her bottoms and then washed and dried her hands. She stood there for a minute, waiting to see if another one of those pains would come or perhaps there would be the urge to move her bowels. Nothing happened. She turned off the light and then went back to bed, crawling in and cuddling up to Jake once again.

Just as she was starting to think that the pain she had felt had been another Braxton-Hicks, or perhaps a figment of her imagination, it happened again, not quite as strongly this time, but of longer duration. It too faded away. She raised her head up and looked at the clock display again. It was now reading 1:46 AM. She made a mental note of that time and went back to relaxing against Jake’s body.

She waited until three more pains came and went before she woke him up. They came at 1:57, 2:08, and then 2:20, each lasting about twenty or thirty seconds. She no longer thought they might be Braxton-Hicks contractions or bowel cramps. Neither of those two things occurred at regular intervals. No, I think it’s finally happening here, she thought, feeling a mixture of excitement and anxiety competing for top billing. I’m in labor.

She put her hand on Jake’s shoulder and gently shook him. “Sweetie,” she said. “Wake up.”

He groaned and grunted a few times and then came awake, shaking the sleep off fairly quickly. He glanced at the clock for a moment and then turned to her. “What’s up?” he asked. “Are you having contractions?”

“I’m pretty sure I am,” she said. “I’ve had five of them over the past forty-five minutes or so. They’re coming about eleven or twelve minutes apart.”

Jake sat fully up in bed now. He was shirtless and wearing only his underwear. “Okay,” he said slowly, just a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Should we start getting ready to move?”

“Let me see if another one comes,” she said. “If it’s labor, the next one should happen in another ten minutes or so, around 2:31 or 2:32. It I get that one, I think we should go.”

“Okay,” he said. “Sounds good.”

They stayed cuddled together, both of them watching the clock in silence as the minutes ticked off agonizingly slow. Finally, it clicked over to 2:31. Sure enough, within ten seconds of the turnover, another pain rippled through her from back to front, making her wince a little, making her breathing hitch.

“You’re having one?” Jake asked, noting the tensing of her body, the change of breathing.

“Yeah,” she said through gritted teeth. “A pretty good one too.”

They stayed in position until it released. And then Jake sprung to his feet and turned on the light. “All right,” he said. “Let’s do this thing. I want to be in the air in under an hour.” He picked up a pair of jeans that had been folded on the chair next to the bed and began putting them on.

Laura, watching him, suddenly had a wave of fear wash over her. Their plan to fly all the way to San Luis Obispo at the onset of labor had seemed reasonable when they had first come up with it, had seemed reasonable only an hour before when she had been lying awake and turning it over in her restless mind, but now that she was actually feeling contractions, now that she was actually facing the prospect of squishing little Cadence out of her body soon, it seemed the most asinine thing she had ever heard of.

“Sweetie,” she said hesitantly, “is this really a good idea?”

He stopped in the middle of buttoning his pants and looked at her. “Flying home?” he asked.

She nodded, chewing on her lip a little. “Now that this is actually happening ... well ... it seems like maybe it might be safer just to stay here and deliver at North Bend Medical Center.”

Jake took a slow breath. “We could do that,” he said softly. “They have a labor and delivery department there. We don’t know the doctors here, but I’m sure they know what they’re doing.”

“It’s something we should think about,” she said hesitantly. “I’m getting scared about this flight, sweetie.”

Jake nodded. “It’s your call to make,” he said. “Just remember, they have no NICU services at North Bend, so if anything is wrong with Cadence they’ll have to put her on a helicopter over the mountains to Eugene.”

She chewed her lip a little more. She did know this little fact as she and Jake had looked into the capabilities of virtually every hospital between Coos Bay and San Luis Obispo over the past six weeks. Not every hospital had a NICU, or neonatal intensive care unit, which was designed, staffed, trained, and equipped to take care of sick newborns. North Bend Medical Center was one of the hospitals that did not have such a unit. They could deliver routine babies and care for routine newborns, but could not do much for sick ones except transfer them out by air. “That is a good thing to consider,” she allowed.

“I think Cadence will be just fine no matter where we deliver,” he said, “but I think it would be better if we at least got her into range of a place with a NICU if we can, just in case. How about we follow the plan for now? We get up in the air. If labor is progressing too fast, it’s only a fifteen-minute flight to Eugene and we can divert there. If it’s not progressing, we go for home. If anything happens anywhere along the way, I have that chart I put in the plane with every diversion airfield and its proximity to every hospital and that hospital’s capabilities.”

She knew Jake had done all the research and she had even helped with a fair portion of it—mostly the hospital parts while Jake had concentrated on the airport parts. She knew that what he was saying made perfect sense, and now that she heard it all told to her again, she actually started to feel a little better. She was still scared as hell, still thought that maybe they had not thought this through as much as they should have, but knew that getting up in the air was probably the best option.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go with the plan.”

“Right,” he said. “Get yourself dressed in your traveling clothes. They’re right there next to the bed.”

She nodded. Her traveling clothes and her maternity bag she would need at the hospital had both been sitting there waiting for two weeks now. “Okay,” she said.

“I’ll get Celia up and then start loading up the car.”

“All right,” she said, pulling her pajama top off and tossing it in the general direction of the hamper. She had no bra on underneath—sleeping in a bra was something she never did, pregnant or not—but there was a stretchy sports bra as part of her traveling clothes. She rolled over and got her feet on the floor so she could shuck her bottoms. Jake, meanwhile, had put on his shirt and was tying his shoes. Once he was done with this, he did not head out of the room toward Celia, but went the other way. “Where are you going?” she demanded.

“I gotta pee before we go,” he said.

“Well hurry up!” she barked.

Jake took her harsh tone in stride. He was used to her irrational outbursts by this point. “Will do,” he said simply.

Jake was a master of preplanning and the egress from the house to the airport went smoothly. He, Laura, and Celia were all dressed and ready to travel in less than ten minutes. All of them had travel bags full of clothes, phone chargers, insurance cards, and even travel snacks pre-packed and waiting. All of them had travel clothes waiting next to their beds. They left the house in Jake’s BMW at 2:45 AM and were at the airport by 3:00 AM. During that time period, Laura had three more contractions. Celia used her watch to time them and had a sheet of paper to record them. They were staying consistently at eleven to twelve minutes apart and about twenty to thirty seconds in duration.

“Your water hasn’t broke yet?” asked Celia as Jake pulled the Avanti out of the hangar using the electric tug.

“Not yet,” she said. “Dr. Niven says that in more than half of cases it doesn’t break until well into labor.”

Jake loaded their baggage into the cargo compartment and then sealed it up. He then used a flashlight to complete his exterior preflight inspection. He had deliberately left the plane more than half full of fuel so they would not have to worry about having to gas up before making the flight. He opened up the plane and turned on the batteries to power up the lights inside. While Celia and Laura settled into the seats behind the cockpit—Celia would remain at Laura’s side for this flight—Jake drove the BMW back to the general aviation terminal, parked it, and then went inside to file the flight plan he had already come up with weeks before. He made a last check of the weather on their route—he had routinely been doing that twice a day for two weeks just in case—and saw that it was partly cloudy with moderate winds through southern Oregon and northern California (the result of a low-pressure system sitting just off the coast of southern Washington), but became clear and reasonably calm once they got to the northern fringes of the Sacramento Valley. What this meant was that there were no dangerous conditions along their way, but it would undoubtedly be bumpy for the first third of the flight.

He jogged back to the aircraft and climbed inside, sealing it up behind him. He fired up the engines and then quickly input his flight plan into the flight manager. The route he had chosen was about ten minutes longer than the fastest route, but kept them within fifteen minutes of an emergency landing field at all times. He ran through the preflight checklist, forcing himself to do it slowly and carefully despite the fact that his wife was in labor behind him. He would not do them any good if he rushed through it, missed something, and crashed them all into the side of a mountain somewhere. That would certainly be counterproductive to the passing on of his genetic code.

Finally, at 3:33 AM, he called for IFR clearance and was assigned his requested final altitude of thirty-one thousand feet. The actual tower was not operating at this time of the morning so he simply broadcast that he was taxiing to Runway 22 so he could take off into the twenty-knot onshore wind.

“How are we doing back there?” he asked his passengers. “Go for the mission?”

“Contractions are still eleven to twelve minutes apart,” Celia reported. “I think we’re go.”

“How about you, hon?” he asked Laura. “Go mission?”

“Go mission,” she said, holding tightly to Celia’s hand. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

He taxied to the head of the runway and roared into the sky at 3:42 AM, going out over the ocean and then turning back to the southeast and going feet dry again. Almost immediately, the turbulence began to batter them as they climbed out over the coastal mountains.

“It’s the bumpies,” Celia said nervously, using Laura’s lighthearted, generally unconcerned term for clear air turbulence they encountered.

“Yeah,” Laura said sourly. “I could really do without the bumpies on this flight.”

“Sorry, hon,” he told her as a particularly nasty bumpy shuddered the entire aircraft. “We’re gonna have to deal with the bumpies at least until we get south of the jet stream over the Sac Valley.”

“Awesome,” she said.

Amazingly enough, Laura still fell asleep well before they reached cruising altitude, this despite the fact that she was having labor contractions and the plane was being battered around in the unstable air. Whenever a contraction would hit her, she would wake up briefly, hold her stomach and wince a bit, and then go right back to sleep as soon as it relaxed. Celia kept one hand entwined with Laura’s and the other on Laura’s belly. She found she could actually feel when the contractions came as her fundus would tighten up. She would check her watch with each one and then note it down on her sheet and then go back to holding hand and belly.

Jake let the autopilot control the aircraft while he constantly looked at his chart of diversion airfields and hospitals as they bumped and bounced along. He kept up a constant diversion plan in his brain as they approached and then passed each waypoint. Medford, Oregon, which had a NICU equipped hospital; Crescent City, California, which had a hospital with L&D services but no NICU; Siskiyou County Hospital, which had L&D but no NICU either. They then passed over the southern Cascade mountains on the border of Oregon and California. The turbulence increased considerably at this point, bouncing them around like a ping-pong ball and making everything shudder. One of the booze bottles in the bar came loose from its restraint band and fell to the floor, thankfully not breaking.

“I have to pee!” Laura cried.

“I think you should wait a few more minutes if you can,” Jake advised. “We’re pitching around like a freakin’ boat in the ocean here.”

“I can’t wait,” she said. “I go now, or I pee my pants.”

“It might be safer to just pee your pants,” Celia said. She was quite clearly terrified by the sheer violence of the turbulence.

“I am not going to pee my pants!” Laura said defiantly. She unbuckled her seatbelt and started to rise. A big jolt sent her crashing right back down. “Goddammit!” she screamed, and then burst out crying.

Celia then unbuckled herself as well. “Let me help you, Teach,” she said, standing up, holding carefully to the seat as she did so. She then held out her hand and helped Laura rise up to her own feet.

“Be careful, you two,” Jake told them. He knew the turbulence itself presented no actual danger to the aircraft—the Avanti could handle unstable air that was three or four times worse than what they were now experiencing—but having unsecured passengers during it was actually quite dangerous. Particularly when one of them was pregnant and in labor.

“We’ll try,” Celia replied. “Come on, Teach. Let’s do this.”

She put her arm around Laura’s waist and the two of them slowly made their way to the back of the plane, supporting themselves with the seatbacks as they went. The plane continued to bump and bounce with no predictable rhythm, but they managed to keep their feet beneath them. Celia opened the door to the toilet and locked it in that position so it could not slam back shut. She helped Laura unbutton her pants and pull them down. Once that was accomplished, she held onto her arms so she could ease down on the toilet. She remained standing there while Laura peed.

“You have a pad on,” Celia told her. “Don’t bother wiping.”

“I’m sorry,” Laura said, “but I am not going to skip wiping. That’s gross.”

“Okay,” Celia told her, “but hold onto me with one hand while you do it.”

Laura nodded. “This is so undignified,” she said miserably.

The ladies made it back to their seats without falling down or being slammed up to the ceiling, but it was a close thing. They sat back down and strapped in. Jake breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the buckles click shut.

The unsecured booze bottle continued to bounce and jump and slide all over the place but miraculously did not break. Eventually, it worked its way down the aisle and over to where Celia could grab it. She held it up and looked at it for a moment. It was a bottle of sixteen-year-old Bushmills single malt. She pondered it for a moment and then popped the cork and took a large, healthy swig directly from the bottle.

“Ahh,” she said. “God does provide.” She put the top back on and then stowed the bottle in the seatback pocket on the back of Jake’s seat.

Jake saw an expanse of orange and white city lights in the distance. That was Redding, the northernmost city in the Sacramento Valley. It was still better than forty miles ahead of them, but he welcomed the sight, nonetheless. There were two hospitals in Redding, both of which had NICU services. And after Redding there were no more long stretches between cities and hospitals. And once they were out of the mountains and over the valley itself, the turbulence would likely die down considerably.

“Just a few more minutes and the ride should smooth out some,” he told his passengers.

“Thank God,” Celia said, wondering if just one more slug of the Bushmills would be too much.

Laura said nothing. She was already back asleep.

As predicted, the turbulence eased up once they crossed over the last set of mountains and flew out over the valley. It did not go away completely, but it was no longer violent and continuous, just an almost gentle bumping from time to time. Redding passed beneath them and the next closest hospital was in Red Bluff. After Red Bluff, the familiar outline of the Heritage metropolitan area came into view. Heritage had three hospitals equipped with NICUs. After Heritage came the Sacramento area, which had multiple NICU equipped facilities, including the UC Davis Medical Center and Sutter Memorial Hospital, which were both regional specialty centers for high-risk deliveries and neonatal care. If there was anywhere along their path where it would be optimum to divert, Sacramento would be that place.

But they did not need to divert. Laura’s contractions had advanced a bit since they had taken off, but were still nine minutes apart—well within the safety margin. Jake began to feel more confident that they were going to make it home.

They passed over Stockton and then Modesto before their route took them further to the west, where the south San Francisco Bay Area came into range. From here, they could easily land in San Jose if needed. Beyond San Jose was Hollister and Salinas. Laura kept contracting regularly, but stayed in the nine-minute range. Just past Salinas, Jake began his descent, bringing them down from thirty-one thousand to four thousand at a rate of two thousand feet per minute. By the time they passed over Pasa Robles—the last possible diversion airfield with a NICU in easy striking distance—Jake knew they were going to make it.

He entered the familiar pattern for San Luis Obispo Regional, taking them offshore over Morro Bay and then turning for an ILS landing on Runway 11. He did not do many night landings as a matter of course, but he had done enough to be comfortable with it. The sky was clear and he could see the lighted runway from more than ten miles out. The ILS brought him down the glideslope smoothly. At five hundred feet above the ground, he disconnected the autopilot and took over control of the plane. He touched down neatly at 5:13 AM.

“We’re here,” he said, unnecessarily since both of his passengers were awake (Laura, like usual, had awakened when the flaps came down prior to landing).

“Thank God,” Laura breathed.

“Amen to that,” Celia echoed.

Jake did not bother taxiing to the hangar. Instead, he simply parked in the general aviation area and shut down the engines. He quickly tied down the plane while Celia unloaded the luggage from the cargo compartment. Jake jogged over to the hangar and opened it up. Inside was Laura’s Lexus that usually stayed in Granada Hills but that had been driven to SLO just for this mission. It was hooked up to its own trickle charger and fully fueled. He pulled the electrodes off the battery and got inside. The keys were in the glove box. He started up the engine and pulled out. After closing the hangar door and securing it, he jumped back in the car and drove quickly back to the terminal.

“All right,” he said as he got out and started picking up their bags. “How we doing?”

“I just had another one,” Laura said. “A little stronger this time.”

“What’s the timing?” Jake asked Celia.

“Still at nine minutes,” she reported.

“Cool,” Jake said relieved. “Let’s get our asses to the hospital.”

They loaded the trunk and climbed in, Laura in the front next to Jake, Celia in the back seat. Jake drove them quickly through the nearly empty streets and arrived at the entrance to the women’s and children’s center at Baptist Hospital of San Luis Obispo at 5:45 AM.

“I’ll go grab a wheelchair,” Celia said when Jake brought them to a stop in the circular entryway.

“I don’t need a fucking wheelchair,” Laura said testily. “I can walk.”

“Well ... yeah,” Celia said, “but I thought you were supposed to bring pregnant women in that way.”

“I can walk,” Laura repeated, stepping out and putting her feet on the pavement. “If someone would just grab my bag for me.”

“I’ll get it,” Jake said. “C, you stay with her. I’m going to go park.”

It took him the better part of five minutes to find a parking space and then jog back to the entrance. Once he was there, the three of them went through the sliding door and into the labor and delivery building. They were in a foyer with a few chairs scattered about and a large semi-circular desk staffed by a female registration clerk in scrubs and a male hospital security guard. There was nobody currently sitting in the chairs. The three of them walked up to the desk.

“Hello,” the female greeted. “Checking in?”

Jake looked at his two companions for a moment and then back at the clerk, irritation plainly visible on his face. A man and two women, one of whom was quite obviously in late pregnancy and holding her belly in a painful manner, come strolling into the labor and delivery department at 5:50 AM and she wants to know if they are checking in. He did not say what was on his mind, however. “Uh ... yes, we’re checking in,” he told her. “My wife seems to be in labor.”

“Okay,” the woman said brightly. “You’ve come to the right place then. Are you pre-registered here at Baptist?”

“Yes, I am,” Laura said. “Dr. Niven is my OB.”

“Okay,” she said. “Your name?”

“Laura Kingsley,” she said.

That caught the woman’s attention. The security guard’s too. They both stared at her for a moment, recognition showing in their eyes.

“Oh ... Mrs. Kingsley, of course,” she said. “How exciting for you!”

“It doesn’t feel all that exciting at the moment,” Laura said sourly.

“I’m sorry,” she said with seemingly sincere sympathy. “If I could just have your date of birth to look you up in the computer?”

“April 11, 1965,” Laura said.

She tapped on her computer keyboard for a moment and then looked at her screen. “Okay,” she said. “There you are. I see you’re already overdue.”

“Yes,” Laura said, “I...” she winced and grabbed her belly. “Oh God, here comes another one.”

“Let me just call the nurse to get you back into the triage room,” the woman said. She picked up a phone and dialed a number. After a moment, she spoke to someone on the other end. “Laura Kingsley is here checking in.” A pause. “That right ... Laura Kingsley. Jake Kingsley and a visitor are with her. She is reporting contractions.” Another pause. “Okay, will do.” She hung up the phone. “The nurse will be right out.”

“Very good,” Laura grunted, breathing a little heavily as the contraction faded.

While they were waiting, she took Jake’s name for the record and then asked who the visitor was.

“I’m Celia Valdez,” Celia told her.

The woman’s eyes got even bigger upon hearing this. She looked at Celia in awe for a moment. “Oh my God,” she said. “It is you! I thought you looked like you, but I didn’t think it really could be you. Wow! This is so amazing!”

“Thank you,” Celia said. “Laura and I are very good friends. She plays saxophone for me, you know.”

“I’ve heard that,” the woman said.

“It’s true,” Jake said. “Now, is there some visitor badge or something you’re supposed to be making for us?”

“Oh ... right, of course,” she said. She bent to her computer and went to work. A minute later, Laura had an armband on her wrist and Jake and Celia both had visitor stickers with their names and Laura’s name stuck to their shirts. A moment after that, one of the side doors opened and a middle-aged nurse in blue scrubs came through. She was pushing an empty wheelchair.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley?” she asked.

“Yes,” Laura said.

“I’m Arlene, one of the L&D nurses. I’m going to get you triaged and see how you’re doing.”

She insisted that Laura sit in the wheelchair even though Laura insisted she was perfectly capable of walking.

“It’s hospital policy,” Arlene said simply. “We don’t want you falling down.”

“A little while ago I walked to the back of an airplane that was bouncing around like a moth on a porch light,” Laura told her. “I didn’t fall then.”

“You were in an airplane?” Arlene asked, her eyebrows coming up.

“That’s right,” Jake said. “Two and a half hours ago we were in Coos Bay, Oregon. We flew down here when labor started. It was a bit of a bumpy ride for the first part of the flight.”

The nurse was now looking at them as if they were insane. “You flew down from Oregon in the middle of the night while you were in labor?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Laura told her. “That was our plan all along. It worked out.”