"Do you think I have time to run home and check on the kids?" my husband asked over the protruding belly clad in a hospital gown. I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with a I.V. in my wrist, monitors on the baby's head, blood pressure cuff on my arm, and the sound of my fingertips drumming on the bedside table. "Go ahead," I replied, "nothing is happening around here besides your son's knees are lodged in my vertebrae and I'm soaking the bed every 10 minutes and where in the he** is Dr. Parker?" It was 7:00 a.m. I'd been at the hospital for three hours. Nothing was happening. At. All. But I wasn't going home and my dad really needed a little break. The girls needed to get to school. The boy would be deposited at his grandparents house. They needed to be fed, hair combed, teeth brushed, matching shoes on, someone to explain why we were gone. Scott left and I called my dad who was at our house taking care of the kids. I asked him ho...