I planned a homebirth.  We were experiencing the worst storm in more than a
decade.  It was President's Day weekend.  My husband was 300 miles away at a
Marine Corps reunion and the airports were closed.  My midwife couldn't get
down her road because of a felled tree.  The freeway to the back-up hospital
was closed.  And I started gushing amniotic fluid.

I went to the emergency room for what I thought would be a blood test to make
sure I wasn't getting an infection.  Hours later it finally dawned on me that
I was going to have a baby in the wrong hospital, with no records, with no
midwife, with no husband.  A nurse (or maybe she really was an angel) came
into my room right before the end of her shift and told me she, too, had
wanted a homebirth and ended up in the hospital.  She told me which nurses to
ask for, which nurses to avoid, and the doctor she knew would be the most
supportive.  She told me to demand that one doctor, even if he was asleep at
the time.  She gave me some other information and advice I'm sure could have
gotten her fired.  She said she'd deny the entire conversation if I said a
word to anyone.  I never saw her again.

I followed her advice exactly.  I called my Bradley instructor in at three in
the morning.  She was already up doing laundry because of a vomitting
toddler!  She managed to get to the hospital and help me. Hours later, my
husband finally showed up.   After a lot of bargaining and refusals of IVs,
internal exams, pitocin (only at 6cm twelve hours after the membranes
rruptured), pain meds, etc, ad nauseum, I gave birth to a baby boy!  They
took him to the ICN immediately (he was retracting like crazy and not pinking
up at all).

Twenty-two months later, I had a girl in the same hospital.  I was ready to
argue for one of the larger labor rooms so I could deliver there and not get
wheeled to the delivery room.  I once again refused the IV.  The extra exams.
 The pitocin.  The drugs. I ignored the doctor who said I wasn't very
stretchy and was going to "rip down to my knees"  without an episiotomy.
 After being gently threatened about my labor going on too long with ruptured
membranes (meaning "hurry up or we'll do a c-section") I consented to having
the membranes ruptured again.  45 minutes later, there she was!  No doctor
made it on time.  I picked up my newborn daughter myself!  I refused their
very kind offer to take Allison while I got some rest.  I refused to put her
under warming lights ("all newborns need to be warmed up").  I refused the
complimentary formula ("just until your milk comes in") but took the neat
Fisher-Price toy.  I ignored the warnings that I was nursing too long and too
frequently ("you're going to get sore and you don't have anything in there
anyway").  To keep her with me they made me keep ALL the lights on all night.
 The main light, the light over the bed and even the bathroom light!  I
finally got out of there and spent New Years Eve at home with my new baby.

I had two completely unmedicated hospital births:  no drugs, no IVs, no
episiotomies...BUT, I was always having to defend myself, restate my
position, argue the point, and ignore what I knew to be stupid advice.  I had
another woman with me at all times advocating for me, but I still had to
always be on the defensive.  My guard was always up.