So we signed up for the Bradley Method, a husband-coached natural childbirth class. During this class our birth plan emerged – waiting until 42 weeks if necessary, no artificial breaking of water, no interventions (IV, pitocin, epidural, episiotomy), no constant monitoring = ability to move around during contractions, no early cord clamping etc. When I presented this to my OB/GYN, he flat out laughed at me: He always induced women at 41 weeks, hospital policy demanded 30min of monitoring on my back when I checked in as well as an IV “just in case”, if labor didn’t not progress he always gave pitocin and broke the water, if the baby seemed stuck he cut and – in any case – he had never seen a woman go through with such a birth plan, “they all want to go natural but scream for the epidural within an hour!” I was horrified.

My husband and I discussed our options for another week – should we take on a doula to help? How about delivering with a midwife? It turned out, the big hospital I was signed up with didn’t even allow doulas or midwives in the hospital, even if you hired them yourself (never mind did they provide any). One nurse watching up to 4 patients via the fetal monitor data at the nurses station and a doctor that came in only for delivery – that was it. It was a tough decision, but in week 36 we changed to the only hospital in the area that allowed midwives (a 30min drive away) and found a wonderful midwife named Doris that was fully supportive of our birth plan and encouraged us that natural child birth was possible.

We delivered our first son with Doris and with her expertise of various positions and (unfortunately, but necessary when labor slowed) a shot of pitocin we were able to achieve a natural child birth. It was a very empowering experience. So there was no question that, when we fell pregnant again 2 years later, she would be our midwife. That our second son ended up being delivered by a doctor was a surprise for all of us!

What happened? On my due date I woke up at 1am with contractions, but waited for a while to see whether they were regular. Then I woke my husband and called the midwife to meet us at the hospital. A friend came over to watch our first son and we took off at 2:15am. During the 30min car ride, the contractions were right on top of each other, every bump in the road almost unbearable. We checked into the hospital at 2:45 and while my husband was parking the car I felt the urge to push. My midwife hadn’t arrived yet, but the baby was coming! A rather panicked call by the nurse caused a doctor to come over from next door to deliver my son – just 17 min after check-in. Doris arrived about 10 min after the birth and took over (and the doctor went back to his still laboring patient next door). Even though it was not with a midwife, I had achieved another natural birth – and my husband was back home in time to make our son’s breakfast!

Now I am pregnant with my third child. We have moved to England in the meantime and I don’t even have the option of a doctor (not that I would want one). All vaginal births here are delivered by midwives. But we will try to go one step further and have a home birth! Because if labor is even faster than last time, I might not make it to the hospital anyway…

Parenthood is hard. Seems obvious to say, but cliches are overused for a reason. And in five months of being a dad, what has become obvious to me is that the cliches are all true.

Pretty much every warning about the perils that awaited me, if I didn’t disregard, I at least minimized in my own mind. Not consciously, of course, but more with the sense that it would all just kind of work out, and not be hard, and they can’t actually be serious about that, can they?

Oh, they can, and they’re right.

Here’s a list of cliched-but-100%-factual parenting advice:

-The child will take over your life.
-You won’t get any sleep.
-You’ll be worried all of the time.
-Forget about seeing your friends when you want to.
-Forget everything you’ve learned about sex.
-Confronted with any situation, your first thought will be of your child.
-Your relationship with your wife will never be the same.
-Your relationship with your wife’s boobs will never be the same.
-It’s all worth it.
-The child will change every day.
-The smallest growth will make you immeasurably proud.
-You’ll do anything you can to make your child laugh. Anything.

Charlie is impossibly small, but occupies the largest space in my life, and in my heart, that anyone could. Which is also a cliche.