Here's a shameful confession: I've become addicted to "A Baby Story." Yes, after my high-horsed condemnation of the show and everything it stood for, I've started to watch it every damn day. On Tuesday I actually saw a natural birth with a midwife...and I have to say, seeing a birth so close to the very one I plan made me much less sneery about the whole show.

I shouldn't have watched it yesterday, though. Yesterday was Dead Baby Day. The ep was about a couple whom at first had adopted an infant who was shortly diagnosed with an extremely rare fatal illness. He died within three months. Then she had two miscarriages, the first of which were twin girls who decided to emerge at 22 weeks. They finally hooked up with a sympathetic surrogate. Man. I cried and cried and cried. I really should've turned off the teevee, but I was mesmerized. Also, I had just taken another Gravol & I was a bit off my game in terms of rational decision-making.

Dead baby day is not a good day to be in labour, even if it is non-progressive.

Despite the fact that my labour was non-progressive, yesterday was pretty productive for all that. My mom, fearing that the baby'd be born before we had a chance to unpack our kit, went to work finding the kitchen crates before another afternoon could go by. I put away books & sat quietly on the couch making decisions as she lifted, sorted & found places for our kitchen stuff. Of course, the blue room is in incredible disarray right now, but at least we're well on our way to order. Thank heavens the baby won't be born into a world where his or her parents can't find their cutlery!

In the evening, I coped with my mild case of the blues by finishing off a few details in the bedroom. With my dad's help, I hung the mobile, I installed candlesticks over our bed, and moved stuff around on the baby bookcase to make it all more accessible. Then I used my dad's digital camera to take a few pictures. It didn't really help with the gentle lassitude, but it was a reasonably positive way to spend a few hours.

The nursery photos. Only for the very curious.

Booty Call: Day 272 - Sprout is shy. Or Sprout is waiting for Aunty Pixie to sail into town. Either way, Sprout is right where we left him/her.