Mandie, the anthropology goddess, and my sister-in-law, Tory, both had their babies at home. It's funny how with my first it was really important to me to do it without any drugs*, but by the time #3 Daisy came along I was all, "can I start the epidural if I'm only dilated 3 centimeters?" Each birth was way easier than the last, but I became increasingly a wuss about it. The natural-childbirth God is now punishing me for that by smiting me with a nipple blister, which is unbelievably painful. A nipple blister! Who could even have imagined that such an awful thing even existed? I'll be writhing in pain on the kitchen floor and Jeff will panic and I'll gasp "the ... blister's ... almost ... too ... small ... to ... see ... where's ... that ... %#*&% .. epidural ... doctor?"
(*This attempt was an unqualified failure)
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