?You should have your baby at home!? crooned my midwife as she walked through my place for a six-month check-up. ?Your house has great birthing energy!?
I?d been planning on a hospital birth with a midwife, but as I sat with it, the idea of having my baby at home started to sound kind of lovely. I pictured a swift and easy delivery in the late afternoon sun; my newborn falling asleep in my arms with my husband close at hand, making soup and tending to us. I couldn?t wait to share the idea with him.
Only I couldn’t, because he was on a ten-day silent meditation retreat, an eight-hour drive away. Clearly my epiphany would have to wait.
Instead, I bought new sheets, read up on home births, and started feathering my nest.
But the next morning, I started spotting. After an uneventful pregnancy, this development sent me into a panic. I anxiously consulted my baby books and learned that spotting during pregnancy was highly variable and usually not a cause for concern. My midwife was equally reassuring: she instructed me to stay off my feet for the rest of the day and said it would likely stop on its own. But that night, the spotting got worse, and I started cramping. Something was wrong?I could feel it. I called my midwife but couldn?t reach her. I called my sister and got voicemail. I knew I had no hope in hell of reaching my husband on his meditation cushion?so I called a cab and went to the ER on my own. I was 30 weeks pregnant, alone, and suddenly really frightened. This...