Unexpected Inheritance

22

Ben raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Why not?"

She leaned back in her chair, feeling the tension in her chest tighten again. "The county hospital is... well, it's not up to the standard of care I'd want during such a vulnerable time. I've been there before, and the way they treated me when I had my heart attack—it wasn't ideal. I can't risk having the same lack of attention when it comes to something as important as our daughter."

Ben nodded, a deep frown crossing his face as the memories came flooding back. The hospital's dismissive attitude when Miranda had been in the midst of her heart attack—how they had ignored her symptoms, how they had brushed aside her concerns. It made his blood boil just thinking about it. "I remember," he said quietly.

Miranda placed her hand over her belly, her thoughts drifting as she weighed the situation. "I don't want to go through that again. Not with our baby"

Ben reached over and took her hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. "Then we'll figure something else out. We'll find the right place for you, for her. You deserve to feel safe and heard, especially now."

They sat in silence for a moment, Miranda's mind racing through different possibilities.

"I think," she began slowly, "I'd prefer a home birth. But I don't want to compromise on safety."

Ben's eyes softened as he listened to her. He had always trusted her instincts, especially when it came to her health and well-being. "Then we'll make sure it's safe. We can bring in a midwife, get a doula, have a backup plan in place. Whatever we need, we'll do it."

Miranda gave a small smile, grateful for his unwavering support. "I appreciate you being so patient with me through all of this."

He leaned over and kissed her gently. "It's what your husband is here for baby,"

After much soul-searching and several long, emotional nights, Miranda finally made her decision—she would have a homebirth. It came as a surprise to nearly everyone. The idea of leaving behind the county hospital, with its impersonal corridors and rushed care, was both bold and deeply personal. Instead, Miranda felt a strong pull toward the comfort and intimacy of home, where she could reclaim the nurturing environment reminiscent of the old ways, like the days when Ada helped bring babies into the world right in familiar surroundings.

When she broke the news, there was a hush. Ben squeezed her hand. Tuck looked between them, wide-eyed but supportive. Even the townsfolk, who had their own opinions about the safest way to bring a child into the world, couldn't help but be impressed by her conviction.

"I'm doing this my way," Miranda said, her voice firm. "I want to feel safe and cared for during the birth—and I trust the support we can arrange. I know it can be just as safe, if not safer, than a rushed hospital visit."

Ben, of course, was supportive. He didn't question her; he just dove headfirst into the preparations. He was out gathering supplies, double-checking the house for comfort and practicality.

One night, at exactly 3 a.m., Miranda's eyes snapped open. A deep, rolling pain spread through her belly, unmistakable and insistent. She shifted, breathing through it, trying not to wake Ben, but when the second one hit, she let out a small groan. That was all it took—Ben was instantly awake.

"You okay?" His voice was thick with sleep, but his hand was already reaching for her.

She nodded, exhaling slowly. "Contractions."

He sat up, instantly alert. "How far apart?"

She closed her eyes, waiting, feeling. "Not too close yet. Just started."