A month ago, and three weeks earlier than expected, my water broke. If you ask Aaron, he'll tell you that I woke him up at 2 in the morning to tell him that my watch broke, but I know the truth. A baby was on her way and there wasn't anything we could do to stop it from happening then and there (or pretty close to it).
We calmly packed a bag, but not with diapers, or wipes, or a coat for our newborn. We didn't have those yet. We woke the girls up to bring them to a waiting room an hour away. We would have called a friend to watch them, but we didn't have that yet either. We called my midwife in Peterhead to tell her we were coming, but she said no, you're too early. I hadn't reached 37 weeks yet. Just one day short. Off to the big kid hospital. 
At 3 am we set off for Aberdeen. We did not drive for long. A gash in our tire made sure of that. An inaccessible spare tire finished off the job of ensuring that we would not be driving ourselves to the hospital that morning. For half an hour Aaron and I took turns waving down cars. Finally a car stopped. I told him we needed to call roadside assistance. He suggested we call an ambulance instead. 
By now the contractions had started to come on thick. I was put on a stretcher and the paramedics and I looked at the family that was being left on the side of the road. In they came. Our little family of four racing through the Scottish countryside, bumps and all, to deliver a baby that was also rushing to make the finish line.
2 hours later and I was at 2 cm. The laughing gas they had me on was now a joke. It was time for the big needle, especially since all of a sudden my ribs were descending through my birth canal and I needed to PUSH! I had somehow gone from 2 cm to 10 in what felt like nanoseconds, but was actually a lengthy 10 minutes. A nurse yelled for Aaron to come quickly from the waiting room, but it was too late. I had our baby in my arms. A very tiny, very tootie*, newborn Nora. 
*Tootie does not mean gassy, as we originally thought. "Wee cutie" is much better.