Shaking. That’s mostly what I remember. There was puking too, and at some point I remember yelling “will somebody turn off that f#$%ing Bon Iver?!” (My thoughtfully crafted birth playlist.) But mostly I remember the uncontrollable trembling evoked by the pain, shock and fear that surrounded the delivery of my first child. The suffering quickly turned into quiet joy when we met Ryder. But then the terror set in again. The anxiety. The responsibility. The fact that if we didn’t