It was a dark and stormy night on the Ewa plain. After a typically warm day with temperatures in the upper 80s, the thermometer dipped to the low 70s as the clock ticked past midnight. Tradewinds were a modest 5 mph.
The morning of April 5, 2007, could have been ordinary for Keli Mousser and Scott Goldstein in their condo. Instead, it was extraordinary in all the best ways. She was six weeks away from giving birth to their first child together.
Mousser had already picked out a name: Kamana‘o. “When I was pregnant with her, we used to watch a lot of UH volleyball. On Kanoe Kamana‘o’s senior night, Jim Leahey was talking about her and her name, and what it means.
I was like, I’m going to name my daughter Kamana‘o,” she said. Mousser grew up in Waianae, where her mother, Walterbea Aldeguer, was a historian and activist. Often, she would upkeep a local heiau, bring groups to learn about native foliage.
Born to be a tutu. “I told my mom about the name, and she said, ’Something keeps whispering to me, Kamana‘o‘okalani.’ “ On that night of April 5, no whispers.
Nothing was ordinary. “I got up and just felt like I had to go to the bathroom. I’m not in pain, but I notice that I’m spotting.
Scott called the nurse. I wasn’t having any contractions. The nurse is (saying), ‘Drink some water, it might be false contractions,’ ” Mousser recalled.
Turns out Mousser is one of the rare women who actually don’t feel those painful contractions. The family.