There was no guesswork necessary when my labor began; each contraction had a decisive climb that literally had me on my knees. My body rocked with a force that I had never known, and that I tried very hard to embrace and welcome. I absolutely did not want to be alone in this vulnerable time and I am deeply grateful for the presence of the midwives, Nancy, Eva and Hanna.

On the Thursday before my due date, I woke up with a dull cramping sensation in my uterus. It was the middle of July and the weather had been unbearably hot for days. My intuition throughout pregnancy had been that the baby would come early or right on time, and I was starting to feel increasingly uncomfortable and sick of being pregnant.

I knew I would go past my due date. I told myself that’s how it would go the whole time I was pregnant, and yet I could not prevent the inevitable anxiety that occurs when the due date comes and goes and your baby still seems quite cozy. My due date was only memorable because my car battery died while I was in my prenatal yoga class. I was hot and sweaty, tailgating with a sandwich and cold beverage until the tow truck man came and fixed my problem with a quick jump start. Back home I went.