Families on the Fault Line [antikvár]

PROLOGUE As I struggled to write this book in just the way I had envisioned it when it was still only an idea, I was reminded of an experience with a patient a few years ago. In the closing weeks of her pregnancy, her obstetrician told her that the baby she was carrying was lying the wrong way in her uterus. He turned the baby so that she was facing the right way, head down into the birth canal, only to find that the baby turned herself back to her original position a day or two later. He tried again; the baby stubbornly refused to be pushed around. Fearing a breech delivery and the possibility of a cesarean section, my patient anxiously sought other advice. A healer laid on hands and spoke a mantra; an herbalist prepared special potions. Nothing moved the baby, who remained stubbornly in her preferred position while her mother became progressively more distraught. I watched the drama unfold with a combination of concern and amusement—concern, because my patient was so anxious; amusement, because I kept thinking: This may be a good experience for the future, an early reminder that this isn't just "a baby." She's also a person with a will of her own. After two weeks of listening quietly to my patient's distress, I spoke the words aloud. Two days later, little Susanna was born."You were right," the new mother reported happily when she phoned with the news. "This child has a mind of her