When I was 20, I was in college having a heck of a time. My main activity was studying. The school I went to was really heavy on academics. However, I also found time to be with my long-term boyfriend, Don (now husband), who went to the same college as me. Children weren't part of the college kid's short-term goals, as you can guess, so I decided to get birth control so there weren't any worries between Don and I.

So I went to my gynecologist and got the rod. It is this little thing the size of a match that they put in your upper arm. It hardly even hurt, and was only $350 for three years of worry-less birth control! My periods were nonexistent, and Don and I could do things without worrying about getting pregnant.

The doctor had also told me to take pregnancy tests whenever I could, just in case. I ignored this piece of advice, seeing no merit in it. So I went on with Don and my studies, same as normal.

Then, mid- March, I went home for a little while. My mother told me I was getting fat, but that was normal. Then my sister told me the same thing, in a nicer way. I immediately started to eat salads and drink skim milk when I got back, because I read that that was healthy and good for you. I had always eaten healthily, but now I decided to step up and lose the hard flab I was growing.

When school ended in May, I was packing on the pounds, but staying fit. Don didn't mind so much; he said that I fine looking to him. He and I rented an apartment near school to live in together, and in the beginning of that summer, we did research at school.

I was really starting to get fat by June, but was too embarrassed to go to the doctor. So I gave up on fitness and ate my feelings. I didn't really get fat, but added some padding to my skinny arms and legs. My belly was already big.

I also kept getting these sensations that I thought were gas bubbles hitting the inside of my intestines, or something. They increased come June.

So I bit the bullet on June 17 and took a pregnancy test, which was – surprise, surprise – positive. I took two more to be sure. Don was in Spain for an international program, so I found an excuse not to tell him then. I was too afraid of what the doctor might say or do, so I took it upon myself to Google everything pregnancy related.

Don came back July 10. I told him about the tests three days later when we were alone in our apartment. He choked on his Chinese food and asked, "How soon?" When I told him I didn't know for sure, he turned white. But then I told him about all of the research I had done, and told him that the most likely date it had been conceived was November 29, my birthday, and it would be due August 22, most likely.

Then I told him about my decision not to go to the doctor until I was in labor. I explained to him my reasoning, and he just said that it was up to me. Don agreed whole-heartedly that he would help care for the baby. We had an extra room in the apartment, and I would take the year off of the university and be a full-time mom. Don also had lots of money left from his late father, which he would use. (Don was actually quite wealthy.)

Later that night, he asked me to go into the living room. He was sitting awkwardly on the couch, and had something in his hand. When I sat down next to him, he said that he was going to figure out the best time to do this since he got home from Spain, but now seemed the best time. He knelt down and opened the package. There was the most beautiful ring I ever saw – a mix of topaz (my birth stone) and a diamond, with a silver band. He said that he saw it in Spain, and it made him think of me and he loved me and blah, blah, blah – will you marry me?

So we were engaged. It was wonderful. We went to IKEA the next day and such together, buying things for the baby. Clothes would wait, so we only bought two little unisex sets.

On July 20, Don left for work, saying he would be home late that day, which was like 8ish. That morning and previous night, I was having some crampings, nothing that I couldn't deal with. It just felt like bad period cramps.

So I was sitting in a nice bath when I felt this weird sensation down yonder. I thought I must've peed a little, which had been happening embarrassingly often. So I continued with my bath, which wasn't so soothing anymore. The pains kept coming, so I put on a robe and Googled it.

I found out about Braxton Hicks contractions and attributed my pains to these. All the while, I was soaking through my robe, which I didn't notice as I was so wet. I found the Braxton Hicks so interesting – until they started to get painful. They made my whole belly seize up, which I didn't think was normal. So I Googled it some more. Could these be real contractions?

So when I stood up, all this water ran down my leg. Uh-oh. I quickly figured that based on the size and way labor was progressing, my date of conception was really November 9. It was only, like, 2 o'clock, and I knew labor would be long as this was my first one, so I decided to wait until Don came home to ferry me to the hospital.

I started packing my hospital bag. I was abnormally cool throughout this. Walking around the apartment felt really good to me. I had these cramps, ones that felt like somebody was squishing and twisting my insides. The best position to labor in was sitting on the toilet, which felt really good. Bathing was also quite nice.

It was 6 o'clock, and I started to worry. I convinced myself that if I went to the hospital now, that I wouldn't give birth until the next day or something. So I relaxed in the bath.

Then, suddenly, I felt like I couldn't get comfortable. Then I felt a lot lighter, my belly did at least. It felt like everything had shifted downwards. After this moment of bliss, I felt like I was about to vomit. I knew this was the time to call Don.

I told him what was happening, and he was shocked. He said he would be over in like 20 minutes. "Hurry!" I told him.

My contractions were only a little bit apart. I stood out of the water and felt a little bit like I should push. I made my way to the bedroom. Not wanting Don to find me naked on the floor, I slipped on a bra and nightgown.

Don came in, all frantic. He asked if he should call an ambulance. I told him, "No way!" I wanted to do this at home, not in an ambulance or car. He looked unsure, but agreed as I let out a loud groan. It felt like a rock that was bigger than me was passing through the birth canal. Ahh!

I could feel the head behind my vagina. At the last minute, I pulled my legs back using my hands and lay on the bed. I pushed, with Don waiting to catch the baby.

Groaning, it felt like I was being ripped apart. "The head!" said Don. "I can see hair!" With this new info, I pushed the whole head, then in one push, the rest of the body. Don held the baby in careful hands as I recovered. "Well?" I asked, "What is it?"

"Oh," Don said. "A girl." At that, she immediately began to cry.

I laughed and laid back down, relieved. Don cleared her mouth and ears, then cut the cord and tied it. I soon pushed out the placenta in a few painless contractions.

So we were just sitting there, Don and Charlotte and I, in one happy group. I took off the soiled, bloody nightgown and bra and fed Charlotte for the first time. Don then wrapped her up in a warm blanket.

I had the strange sensation to go to the bathroom after that, which was really odd as I had not eaten much. So I sat down on the stool and nothing happened. I disappointedly noticed that I still looked very pregnant, which was a silly thing to care about.

I really don't like going around naked, so I put on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Don asked me if we were going to the hospital soon and I told him in a few minutes, when this sensation had passed. I decided to take a shower then.

I was too tired, so I lay down in the shower. I felt weird again down there, kind of gushy, so I assumed it was some more blood. I got up and slipped on some clothes.

"Do you want to go to the hospital now?" asked Don. Poor guy. I shook my head and lay on the bed, legs spread like they were when I had Charlotte. She was in my arms once more, asleep. She was about 20 minutes old!

I felt weird down there, as still in the same position, like you would be if you were at the gynecologist. I asked Don to check it out, and he said that there was a lot of blood and some water. That seemed normal to me. He also said that my yoo-hoo looked enlarged, which was also normal. So I pulled my sweats back up and – oops #150; felt myself do a little push involuntarily. I figured it was something normal again, because it didn't hurt too much or anything. It just felt like I had to poo really badly.

So I went, yet again, to the bathroom. I felt really constipated, so I pushed and pushed and pushed. It felt like I had an oversized tampon up their now, and although I felt like I should push, I figured it was from just giving birth.Don lead me back to the bedroom, Charlotte coddled between us. Along the way, I felt more and more cramps. Without even knowing it, I was pushing.

"Ow" I said out loud. It felt like three tampons were emerging from me.

"What? Is something wrong? Do you want me to check again? Call somebody?" asked Don.

I shook my head, then suddenly squatted on the floor and pushed. I'm afraid I let out a string of profanities. It hurt so bad, like those tampons were lit on fire, or something!

I was still squatting and pushing when I realized that I was afraid to touch down there – my body wouldn't let me see what was happening. "Check, Don, check!"

He couldn't, though. I was squatting and he was holding Charlotte. So I stood up in supreme pain. Don pulled my pants down. "I don't see anything!" he said.

So I screamed again and doubled over onto my hands and knees. "Wait!" said Don.

"What is it?!"

"I don't know" he said, which isn't very comforting. "It looks like..."

"What? What does it look like?"

"A foot," he said shortly.

I didn't believe him. So, with my legs spread, I crawled back into the bathroom and looked in the full-length mirror.

"Oh my God..." It was a footling breech. I had only read about these, never seen one. And did this mean... It was another child? Twins? It was too much to process.

"Don, call 9-1-1" I said.

He then rushed in to meet me. "Can I do anything?" he asked.

"Help..." I muttered. He was still holding Char, so I climbed into the tub on my own. I was in the hand- and- knees position. I intended to stay this way until help came. I was also trying not to push, but I couldn't help myself.

"GAAHHH!" I gasped as something slithered out of me.

"You pushed out the leg!" Don said. One leg, and he was that excited?! I wanted to PUNCH him!

"When... they... coming?" I gasped. The rest was pressing on me – I could feel it, like it was about to explode out of me.

Don turned white, and rushed out of the room. Later, he would tell me he forgot to call. And I would want to kill him later, too.

So I pushed some more and screamed the hardest I have ever screamed. It felt like I had just pushed out a refrigerator. Don still hadn't come back.

I started yelling for him, but he still didn't come. Then I groaned again and pushed about 10 times between the contractions. I knew I had to shift forward to be able to catch the baby – because where was Don, damn him?!

This might be a little graphic, but how could I shift to catch the baby when half of it was already painfully hanging out of me? So I kept my bottom in the air, swung one leg out of the bathtub, stood up, swung the other leg out, then eased onto the floor so that my feet were pressed against either side of the full-length mirror.

All of the activity had put me in prime position for pushing. So I propped my hands under the wrinkled baby and gave two HUGE pushes, and out slid its head with tons of unidentifiable fluid. Samantha was out!

I held her to my chest, putting my head on the cool bathroom floor. She started crying as I cleared her mouth with my pinky. I really didn't care about anything then, like where Don was with the help, or anything.

Just as I was contemplating this, lying with only a shirt on, on the bathroom floor, Samantha on me, Don ran in with EMTs behind him. They were all over me, asking what happened and where I was in relation to afterbirth and if she was breathing. They were actually quite nice!

I was carted off to the hospital with Sammy and Charlie, where they were weighed at 5 pounds, 3 ounces and 5 pounds, 10 ounces. Fortunately, both babies were fine, besides a small off breathing pattern of Charlie's.

When Don handed them both to me, my arms were full and my life seemed filled, too. They were a part of me, created by love and would be filled with love. I just couldn't wrap my head around the fact that these two wonders had been inside of me for so long, and were mine until they grew up.

I was tutted at by many a doctor and nurse. I now realize that my birth "plan" was immature and unsafe for me and my babies, and unfair to Don and my family. I really don't recommend a birth unattended by any medics to anybody, for the sake of the baby.

Now, our family is doing fine. I am a proud stay-at-home mom of the smartest and cutest little mischievous toddlers you have ever seen. Don has a really good and steady job that supports his family more than sufficiently. And I am pregnant again, with twins again! This time, we're hoping for twin boys, but we are going to be surprised at the hospital.