I've just finished reading "Extreme Birth," by Andrew Goldman in my March 30, 2009, issue of New York magazine. My third baby, Lindell (2), who was -- by my account, at least -- a "normal" delivery, is playing with toy cars on the floor. However, according to the article's star, home-birth mid-wife Cara Muhlhahn, Lindell's birth would probably be described as "clinical," "detached," and "unnatural."

In the last day of pregnancy, my blood pressure spiked, Lindell's heart rate was erratic, and shortly after birth, his breathing stalled. It was an experience of hospital monitors, tubes, medicine and intervention -- everything that Muhlhahn, one of the biggest advocates for home births (even for "high risk" patients) considers to be in direct opposition to the natural experience of child birth.

And yet, there Lindell sits at my feet, pushing a metal car in circles and declaring, "the car go race, Mommy." He is a normal, healthy, active 2 year old. When we are out walking, people often stop us to comment on Lindell's big brown eyes. Not once has anyone said something to the affect of, "Gee, what a beautiful little boy...did you have him in a hospital?"

Birth stories are only relevant in two situations: during the first six weeks after delivery, and between other mothers at a new mother's baby shower. At the latter birth stories of the horrific variety seem to be especially relevant. But, who really cares about how a baby arrived outside of these circumstances? At a Little League game, who comments on a talented young athlete and then says, "I wonder if he was born by a C-section or not?" At a dance recital, who looks at the star performer and says, "I bet she was born at home." Who asks successful adults, "How were you born?" 

In Goldman's article, home birth advocates list comforts (homemade pasta for dinner, for example, as opposed to hospital food), aesthetics (your own decor instead of "cheesy" hospital birthing rooms), and the "experience" (home births are compared several times in the article to adreneline-fueled feats such as climbing a mountain) as reasons why they think births outside of a hospital are superior. One French obstetrician quoted in the article even claims that babies born via C-Section may have less of an attachment to their mother, noting that monkeys reject their offspring if they are not born "naturally."  

Two things struck me about these sentiments. First, the selfishness of putting aesthetics, quality of food, and your own experience above the health and safety of the baby, and second, the idea that child birth is an end rather than a means to an end. I am reminded of brides who seem more invested in the wedding than the marriage. Is the objective to bring into this world and raise a happy, healthy human being who will contribute positively to their community? Or is the objective to flex some kind of motherhood muscle to outdo and outshine all other mothers, mothers who out of necessity and to save the lives of their baby often had to delivery via C-section? 

All three of my babies were born in hospitals. In fact, two of them were born in military hospitals. (If you want to argue about aesthetics and the "cheesiness" factor, we could definitely start there.) They are all healthy, and any variances between them can be attributed more to genetics and birth order than to the location of their birth. I was separated from Lindell for nearly two days after he was born while he was hooked up to a respirator. Conversely, I held Ford, born with no breathing problems, for the same amount of time without stopping. According to some home-birth advocates' logic, Ford should be more attached to me than Lindell is, when in reality, the reverse is, and always has been, true.

Another funny thing about child birth: The more time that elapses, the more we tend to forget about it. I can recall much more of Lindell's birth two years ago than I can Ford's (eight years ago). My mom remembers virtually nothing about my birth 32 years ago, except that Charles Manson escaped from prison earlier that day.

Perhaps home-birth advocates will say that the these deliveries are so forgettable because they occurred in a hospital. But I believe that in fact it's more natural to remember the years of raising a child and getting to know them as a person than it is to remember what food you first ate after they were born. 

The delivery of a child should be based on what's safest and best, not on superficial ideas, and certainly not on future bragging rights. No one cares to hear about all the wheres and whys of someone's appendectomy. And, what makes anyone think we want to hear about their labor and delivery -- be it in a hospital or your own bathtub -- either? Unless we're at a baby shower, of course....