Not that kind of doctor

"You need to breathe through the contractions, breathe, sweetie, you need to breathe."

I can assure you that in none of my wildest dreams, I would be the one to utter those words. Yet last Wednesday, I got to do just that. It started off innocent enough. One of my Intro students, let's call her Lea, came into my office five minutes before class started, "I was just wondering if I could have an excused absence today."

"What for?"

"Well, I've been having contractions.."

"You...what? You're pregnant?" (That, children, is why you go to school for 22 years, so you can ask if someone is pregnant when they claim they're having contractions).

"Yes, seven months." Lea grimaced, "Oooh, and there's another one."

Not quite sure what social protocol called for in this situation, does one look away? Pretend nothing is going on? Rush to aid the lady in question? I decided that the best course of action would be to just keep asking questions (again, kids, that is why you go to school).

"When did they start?"

"I've been having them since midnight."

"Midnight?! Why aren't you in the hospital?!"

At this point, Lea was distracted for a few minutes by more, eh, pressing matters, but her answer spoke volumes about my doubt that I had been becoming too lenient on my students, "Well, I didn't know if I would be allowed to miss class."

"Well, I would argue that having contractions, and possibly going into labor is a valid excuse if there ever was one."

"I also didn't want to miss anything, you know, with the paper due and all."

After telling Lea she was absolutely not going to class in this condition, I picked up the phone to call campus police. While Lea groaned and moaned through another contraction, I requested that the police call an ambulance. When that was done, I asked Lea if she wanted to stay with me in my office. 

"No, let's go to class, I can wait there until the EMTs show up. Whether I sit there or here, makes no difference. I might as well learn something"

Quiet Lea was turning out to be quite the dedicated student

As we waddled to class (how could I not have noticed she was pregnant?! Again, you can have had too much schooling, honestly), I asked a passing student to get the cushy chair out of the waiting area and place it in my classroom. Although I assumed the EMTs would be there any second, I figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

And sorry I was. Ten minutes later, Lea had had one contraction, and was wailing through the second. And when I say wailing, I mean wailing. Abandoning all efforts at taking roll, or normalcy, or cool cucumberness for that matter, I instructed the students slowly trickling into class, "She's having contractions. Yes, Mike, she's pregnant. You, get some wet paper towels. You, get some cold water, you two, find the nearest cop, and figure out why the ambulance isn't here yet."

My students rose to the occasion as one, while I (with one lamaze class under my belt as the buddy to a pregnant friend with a deployed husband) and another student who had a baby, sat with Lea, and tried to get her to breeeeaaaaaathe.
"I haven't taken Lamaze yet, " Lea explained after one contraction abated, "I thought I had time."
"Well, you're getting a crash course now."

Finally, finally, the EMTs showed up. I have never been happier to see the men in the logoed t-shirts, not even when I was the one in need of help. They took Lea to the labor and delivery unit, while I continued my class as though dealing with pre-term labor was just another course objective.

And Lea? She showed up two days later, explaining she was on bedrest and some serious medication.
"So why are you here?"
"Well, I didn't want to miss class. And I wanted to make sure you had my excuse for Wednesday."

I'm telling you this baby's middle name is going to be dedication.