Having written a book, read every book, seen every video (except for the dolphin one), it was time to start making some hard decisions about our plan for a home birth. First, did we want a waterbirth? If so, which rental pool should we use? The midwife had a few to offer. She recommended the "lucky" one six feet around and said it should be set up at least a week before I went into labor. But gee, when would that be? Where was I going to put something that big? How would I keep the boys out of it in the meantime? And my mother, always on the lookout for catastrophe, wanted to know if the pool that size filled with water would crash through the floor of our 140-year-old house.
Second, what to do about Strep B, that nasty bacteria that sends OBs running for antibiotics? I had tested negative for that the first time around. Did I need another test? And if I tested positive this time, would it throw the whole plan a curveball?
Little did I know it, but all of these decisions were making my blood pressure rise. Little. By. Little.