If you're lucky like me, you'll find a friend who can show you the future. When I was still unmarried and childless and just starting my career, I found a powerful one. As a boss, this woman showed me what it looks like to run your own business. To invent your own processes and leverage your creative instincts. To follow an "it can't be that hard” philosophy of constant learning. And as my boss became my friend, she also showed me what "for better or worse" looks like a decade or more into the bargain. What might go through a woman's mind in deciding and hoping to become a parent. Plus all the debates and dilemmas that may be attendant upon executing said plan. Unbeknownst to me at that time, the debates and dilemmas involved with baby-having turn out to be myriad. My awakening on this front began with this book, fortuitously borrowed from my future-revealing friend. Came across it at just the right time — close enough to my baby-making years to strike a chord, but far enough ahead to allow me ample time to formulate my own opinion. And to share the journey of discovery this turned out to be with my spouse. He read the book, too. And, with the supreme confidence of youth, many discussions, and a bit of local research, my bae and me decided to have our baby at a birthing center under the watchful eyes of kindly midwives. It's a very funny thing, but in my experience, natural childbirth is one of those areas where crunchy granola lefty types and conspiracy theory anti-science righty types go curving wayyyy 'round the bend to meet up on the other side. Our second midwife, though lovely, was definitely righty-tighty, so that was weird. And while one of my lefty friends chose the exact same birth plan as we did — and had a wonderful experience like we did, thankfully supporting my apparently odd point of view — many of my prego-pursuing friends were horrified. Instinctively kept my plans mostly to myself, but when I chanced to reveal them? Horrified was the typical response. "What if something goes wrong?!" they'd visibly think or audibly gasp. Right. My thinking was this: If all is going well, which I have no reason to believe it won't, we don't need all the crisis-management gear the hospital has on offer. If something does go wrong and I need intervention, I'll be transported and get it from the hospital standing helpfully nearby, and happy to oblige. And, while I'll obviously be distressed about something like that, at least I'll know said intervention was definitely warranted. And otherwise? I'll be protected from itchy medical technology trigger fingers, and more? Blissfully ignorant of exactly measured timelines or baby heart rates or any other extraneous data, that, in our impotence, we really don't know what to do with! Other than to trigger medical technologies that, despite discomfort or deeper consequences, ensure a good outcome in the big picture. And which are, let's admit it, comforting if only in the sense that they help us all feel in control, and give us something to DO. Other than to wait, and to be patient, and to experience various pains as they come and go, slowly but surely ... then fastly and furiously. And to trust that, as it has for untold millennia, the human birth process is capable of wending it's way to successful conclusions, naturally. #MapMyReadingLife