Our new baby, installment #6

Despite the pressure, we made an appointment to speak with another midwife. When she gave us directions to her home office, she described her house as being the color of a clay pot. Her office, actually a detached cottage-like space, was comfortable and welcoming. There was a bowl of cherries between the plush chairs where she told my husband and me to sit. She pulled up a stool and told me to put up my feet. As she answered our questions -- all the tedious ones that I now grow impatient at answering, I gazed out the backdoor, which was slightly ajar. This being summer, I could see birds and bees keeping busy in the garden. Inside, on the wall, along with some artful birth photos and oil paintings, was a neon sign that read "open." I appreciated the metaphor. We took a contract home.