.." he muttered tohimself as he drew the curtains closed and locked the door.The itching sensation of his skin was starting to play tricks on hismind,...driving him to distraction. Walking to the bathroom, he knew ashower would help him feel better, the warm water cleansing him fromthe stresses of the day. Stripping out of his clothing, he steppedinto the shower, feeling the hot spray against his skin as he squeezedout a fair amount of the body wash onto the new loofa he had purchased,barely. I paced and rocked myself through the pains that came more steadily and quickly. Finally, I went in and took a shower, getting dressed in case I had to drive myself to the hospital.About 3 a.m. he came staggering into the house."I hope you aren't drunk, you have to take me to the hospital." I was mad. No, I was furious. I could smell the beer on him from across the room.But now that I thought about it, where had he been? I'd never asked him, the pacing and the shower making my labor progress. More

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