I was on the ground. It was sudden, and the pain seared through my body.

Oh my god, I thought. My baby.

Not ten minutes earlier I was having a great afternoon. I was enjoying the last few moments before my new job started, and I was finally experiencing a slight reprieve from the month-long head cold I had over the holidays. Home alone, I had decided to take the dogs for a walk. I hitched them to their leashes and we strolled up our country road. The dogs, who have been slightly on the backburner ever since Pidge was born, loved the opportunity to get outside and take in the scents. They dug in the snow that piled up on the side of the road. I gazed at the pale blue sky and snow-covered branches. We sure do live in a beautiful place.

When I thought we had walked far enough, I turned around and headed back home. The road home was mostly downhill, and I knew there could be icy patches. I walked carefully and tried to stay on the crunchy snow. I was being cautious. Suddenly, one of my dogs pulled on the leash. Before I knew it, my feet were out and I was down. I landed hard – part on my side but part on my abdomen.

I don’t know what came first, the pain or the fear. I was in shock. Stand up, I told myself. But I couldn’t move. One of my dogs started sniffing at me frantically. She nuzzled and nudged my chin. It wasn’t until I saw her wet fur that I realized I was crying. Eventually, I pushed my body up and started walking home, limping and holding my abdomen, straining to see through tears.

When I got home, I found my phone and called my wife. I was panicked, and I don’t normally panic. She calmed me down and encouraged me to call the OB. I did, and I was asked to come in to the hospital.

My wife met me at the entryway to the hospital. Unsure where to go, we first tried to stop at registration. It was crowded, and we were confused. Eventually we made it up to the birthing center and I was checked in for a four-hour observation. Four hours? I thought. I had no idea I was going to be there that long.

The nurses settled me into a bed and immediately hooked me up to a fetal monitor. The baby sounded okay, which was reassuring. Still, they were worried about placental abruption. They kept me on the monitor. Minutes turned into hours. My wife held my hand as we watched the screen. My body had started contracting, and the contractions were coming at regular intervals. Not good. A nurse came in and asked if we had someone who could stay with our toddler for the evening. I wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.

The contractions increased, and I grew scared. I was given a RhoGAM shot to address any potential blood mixing, some Sudafed to help with my congestion, and some Tylenol to help with the pain. But there wasn’t anything to ease my mind about the contractions. A nurse came in and asked how far along I was. “30 weeks,” I told her. The concern that washed over her face was obvious. It was too early to deliver this baby.

After about eight hours, I sent my wife home to be with Pidge, who had previously been in the care of some very dear and accommodating friends. “I’ll be okay,” I told her. “I will let you know if I need you.” The nurses made sure to explain to my wife that she needed to be ready to come back at a moment’s notice. She glanced at me hesitantly, then left to be with our daughter.

For the remainder of the night it was just me, the machine, and the nurses. The band around my belly was tight and uncomfortable. I don’t think the baby liked it. She wiggled and moved nonstop all night – reassuring but also distressing. I tried to sleep, woke, watched the monitor, and listened to the sounds of the delivery wing. It was mostly silent. Every now and then I heard footsteps. At one point a nurse came in to tell me that a baby had just been born down the hall. How exciting.

Seventeen hours later, my contractions began to subside. Finally. I breathed in and I breathed out. Thank you thank you thank you, I thought to no one in particular. Baby was going to be alright. I was going to be alright.

My wife arrived, bringing me fresh clothes. I showered and dressed.

As we left, we saw a man walking in holding the hand of a little girl, who couldn’t have been more than three years old. “You’ll have to be very gentle with your new sibling,” he said. I smiled. This must be the big sister of the new baby who was born during my stay. I thought about Pidge. Soon, she would be a big sister. But not today. Today, we were going home.