“Colt?”

I squint my eyes under the harsh bedroom light. Christ, what time is it? I glance over at the clock on the nightstand. It laughs in my face with its 3:00 a.m. readout. What the hell?

“Colt! I need you to get up, please.” Isabella is standing at the foot of our bed with panic painted on her face. Instantly my mind reacts like I’ve been mainlined a dose of caffeine.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” In two seconds, my mind has already started throwing out worse-case scenarios about Isabella, the baby, and Madison.

“I think I’m in labor. Like my water just broke and…” As if to prove her point, she crumples forward, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she leans on the bed for support. I join her, putting my arms around her, and a shudder of tension runs down through every muscle in her body. “We… need… hospital,” she spits out her words like each one is its own sentence.

“Okay, just hang tight. I’m going to get everything ready.” I push down the part of my mind screaming at me to panic and listen to the rational part that instructs me to go grab the overnight bag we’ve already packed. Throwing the bag over my shoulder, I check in with Isabella before leaving the room to call a cab. Dropping the bag by the door, I go find the little backpack we have prepared for Madison and toss it down beside the overnight bag.

“Isabella, did you maybe want to put on some clothes? Or a robe or something? I’ll give you a hand.” I look around the room for the least difficult thing to dress her in.

“I can get myself dressed, don’t worry. Just get everything else done.” She smiles weakly but manages to walk over to the closet without any struggle. I throw on some jeans and a T-shirt before popping into Madison’s room.

“Madison? Baby?” I softly call out. However, speaking softly isn’t going to cut it when the kid sleeps like a damned rock.

I pick her up from her little bed, making her eyes flutter open in surprise.

“Colt?”

“We need to get ready to go to the hospital, okay? The baby is on the way. You’re gonna be a big sister soon.”

A huge smile bursts out across her face and as soon as her feet hit the floor she races over to her dresser. Pulling out the large bottom drawer, she tugs on a shirt until it comes free and holds it up proudly. “I want this one, please!” She waves the ‘Awesome Big Sister’ shirt like a national flag.

“Sure, no problem.” I can’t help but smile despite my nervousness. “Let’s get it on quick, though. We have to get moving.”

Within fifteen minutes, I’ve somehow managed to get my two-year-old, her annoying car seat, and my fiancée, whose body is being wracked by contractions into the car. If that isn’t some kind of miracle, I don’t know what is.

“How are you holding up?” I rub Isabella’s shoulder, but she smacks my hand away as the pain of another contraction assaults her.

“Colt, what wrong with Isabella?” Madison’s eyes are wide with wonder.

“Don’t worry, Madison. This is just how babies are born. Everything is gonna be just fine.” I smile at her and then look back at Isabella, hoping my words aren’t lies.

The driver barely hits the brakes in front of the hospital when I fling the car door open. I quickly spot some wheelchairs just inside the doors of the building and wheel one to the car. I race around to the other door and yank it open, holding Isabella’s hand to steady her as she makes her way out of the vehicle. Once she’s seated, I unstrap Madison and manage to carry her in one arm while I push the chair with the other.

The hospital is eerily quiet at this time of night. The only soul up right now seems to be the janitor. He appears to be in his own world as he buffs the floor back and forth. Once we’re in the elevator I put Madison down and offer a hand to each of my girls. As soon as the doors open with a mechanical beep, a sense of relief takes over me. We made it. No emergency, backseat births for this family.

Thank you, Lord.

Isabella grits her teeth and scrunches her face as she clings onto the arms of the chair while another contraction attacks her. Picking up Madison, I step up my pace and get us to the maternity desk to check us in.

Even though I’m relieved that everything is working out so far, I also have a sense of dread for what’s about to come. I know shit is about to get real, and I need to do whatever I can to help Isabella through it.