My hippie folks had my three sisters at home, midwives directing, female relatives and friends cooking and tending to the rest of us kids. I came first and took longest, so I got to be the only hospital baby. Like most of my closest friends, I popped out at Tallahassee Memorial on Magnolia.
This day and age, it's kind of a funny feeling to know you live like a peasant in your home village, walking distance from your birthplace. On the one hand, have I wandered far enough afield? On the other, I can't explain the feeling of security and comfort I get from such an anchored feeling of place. Not rooted completely - I could pull up and haul off if I had to. I've done it before, Lord knows. But anchored against the storms of life, protected from the big winds.
I'm at the age now where a bunch of my buddies are busy having their own sprats. Twice now, a bunch of the regular gang have packed a cooler and hid out in a dark corner of the new Women's Pavilion parking lot to basically tailgate waiting during a birth. At least three more little 'uns are due to emerge in the next couple months. I just want to help leave those guys with a good place to call home.