There was some functioning, logical part of her brain that said that at least Gotham Memorial was in-town and it would be easier and less time consuming for Bruce to change at the Penthouse and meet them there.
On the other hand, she was about to have a baby with a man who was notorious for missing big occasions because of his work and dammit he did not get to do that with their son. Not that she imagined that he wouldn't run through hell without shoes on if that's what it took; but she didn't want him to be too late and miss it anyway.
Besides, she didn't want to have to do this alone. If he missed it, it just set the stage for missing everything that came after-- it would be the first in a long line of missed occasions, the first in a long list of things she would have to do by herself. And if he couldn't get his caped ass back to Bristol in plenty of time to actually be present for his son's birth then he could just live with that and she would never have sex with him again.
Not that she was going to anyway after this.
Apparently contractions made her cranky.
With Alfred's help, they managed to get out of the kitchen to the foyer at least; and while he ran upstairs (ran; exactly how old was he anyway?) to get her pre-packed suitcase, socks, and boots, Dinah looked around for some place to sit. On instinct, she went to the stairs, intending to lower herself down to the first step but another sharp pain reminded her almost immediately that if she got all the way down there, she wouldn't be able to get back up. She did manage to find a chair from her old apartment hiding somewhere (which was exactly what she was looking for, since it wasn't an antique) and dragged it back to the staircase to wait, one hand constantly pressed to her stomach, as though that was going to help anything.
"After all this delay, you damn well better stay put until your dad gets here." She muttered to Sam, slowly plopping herself in the chair.
Alfred was just starting back down the stairs when Bruce arrived -- Dinah was pretty sure he'd mastered lightspeed with that drive-- and went back into their room to add his shoes the the collection of things to bring down. She smiled from her chair, stretching a hand out towards him. She thought about telling him how glad she was that he'd made it, that she knew he would... but thought better of it. He was here now, and that was what was important.
She tugged on his hand to lower him towards her so she could give him a kiss in greeting, and wrinkled her nose at the smell of the suit and sweat and the city. "You smell." She muttered, squeezing his hand then-- paused, and looked at his attire; specifically his skinny jeans on a man who was in no way skinny.
"Are those Dick's jeans?"
Before an answer could be given, Alfred was racing down stairs again, passing off Bruce's shoes, setting aside Dinah's bag, and placing her boots and socks next to her while he went to the coat closet to fetch coats for the three of them. For her part, Dinah held onto Bruce's arm, closing her eyes in concentration against the pain of another contraction, alternating between staying absolutely motionless and shifting uncomfortably until the contraction passed. She let out a long breath and finally opened her eyes again, taking a second to settle and get her bearings again before pointing at her shoes, and then at her feet.
"Cinderella can't reach her own feet since November, honey." She teased gently, "Can you help?"