The difference that four letters make

At one of our recent hospital appointments to monitor the baby's heart rate and movements, we had to spend about 2 1/2 hours hooked up to the monitors, rather than the standard 20 minutes, because I was noted to be having steady contractions and the doctors wanted to see if I was going into labor. So, we called Mario and said that we might be a little later getting home than we had anticipated. In the end, I was indeed not in labor and we went on our merry way home to continue waiting for this baby to make his grand appearance.

Shortly thereafter, however, Berni and I began to realize that quite a few people around town--neighbors, family friends- seemed to know about this seemingly inconsequential experience in the hospital, and were calling to ask for health updates about me and the baby with surprising seriousness. "We heard about the false alarm! What a scare!" "So, the doctors didn't have to induce labor?" "You are already home?! We thought that you would be kept in the hospital until the delivery!"

It all made much more sense when Maria informed us that Mario had told her, and likely everyone else, that I had been in the hospital having convulsions.