They sent me home with a little birth plan booklet when I was a little over halfway done with my first pregnancy. I had done lots of research and filled in every line, along with a few notes in the margins.
The second time around I half-filled in the book a week or two before I expected to go into labor. I knew from the first time what was really important to me (as much private bonding time as possible afterwards, skin-to-skin, support for breastfeeding) and what wasn’t (music, lighting, verbage) so I skipped over the things that didn’t really matter to me any ways.
Both times I showed up with a birth plan in my suitcase. Both times nary a person asked to see them.
This time I’ll just walk in and pant, “Get this kid out of me. Try not to cut me to do it. Don’t do things without asking me first. Gimme that baby, QUICK! Go away.”