I wasn’t the birth warrior type, I knew I wanted drugs. I didn't have a plan, but based on what my medical team prepared me for, I expected to labour at home, have what my midwife referred to as a “tylenol-wine bath”, which to a nine-month sober person with a penchant for drinking, sounded really fucking good. I'd wait until my contractions were consistent and strong, and then I'd call my midwife, who would come to me.