Our house is all cozy and ready to welcome the tiny person who currently spends all his or her time grabbing with tiny hands at the edges of my womb. I imagine him grabbing at all my food, greedily trying to steal the flavor.
We have flowers out on the altars and tucked under Icons, stock-piled kerosene, propane, and as much wood as we can keep from burning. Seth has been bringing home buckets of clean water to store, and the bathtub is sitting - full and clean - in the center of the of floor..but we won't be having this baby at home, as we'd planned to. Apparently my body is low on platelets..not dangerously low for an in-town birth, but low enough to make the midwives uncomfortable with a deep-in-the-woods, winter-time birth. So we'll be moving the birth to the Birth House and I'm eating a platelet-friendly diet of kale, kale, and more kale until the baby is born.
I'm disappointed, but not devastated. I wanted a home birth this time, and had such happy images of my home birth..but I'm relieved beyond all telling that I'm still outside the hospital. Hospitals make me uncomfortable, and I worry that I'd have to spend the entire time fighting to avoid excessive interventions. Also, visually, the space is jarring to me and I don't know that I could feel safe enough to labor well in such an institutional environment.

All in all it's a decent middle ground..maybe even ideal for this time of year. I always tend the stove at home (it's my own little addiction), and it could be I'd be too distracted by the 'need' to add a log or two to focus on birth. And thanks to weeks of preparation for a home birth, I have an amazingly clean, well-stocked, and beautiful home to bring the baby home to. And thank goodness the birth house doesn't hold us unnecessarily for hours and hours after birth, so home might not be a super cold place to come back to afterwards.
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