I'm in a no-baby-yet funk. I had a midwife appointment this morning, and like a chump, I thought that this appointment's progress would be equal or maybe just a little less than the progress of Monday's. The problem is that I don't know when all of those progressions started, so I have no idea how long they took to occur.

My progress, in terms of those 6 measures, is as close to zero as makes no difference.

Objectively speaking, I know that it's not a big deal. Babies get born. It's not a carnival trick; it's not that if I don't labour & deliver on a certain day, they're going to deny us the prize. I'm healthy. The Sprout is still kicking & seems to be thriving where it is. I think I'm just tired of living on the knife-edge of excitement. I've had 5 days of making every single decision as if I was about to plunge into labour, and I'm tired.

What's more discouraging is that during the appointment Hectate tried a hands-on induction method called "scan & sweep," and I had to stop partway through because I couldn't take the pain. The cramps & contractions I've felt to date seem cute & cuddly by comparison - and I know that real labour is going to be even worse than that. When we finally got home this afternoon, I started to cry. I'm not sure anymore that I can do this naturally, and that thought makes me feel a complete loss of control. All of my decision-making seems the rankest arrogance. Who was I to think that a pampered North American white girl could turn away from the scarily effective pain relief of modern obstetrics? I've filled with sick dread: I'm going to fold like a fucking house of cards, and everyone will know how weak I am and how stupid and how vainglorious.

There. I'm crying again. I just hope that the old diary voodoo will take over, and that naming my pain will help me to get through it.

Yesterday I was in an absurdly good mood after unpacking my bathroom box. I'm really not sure why - maybe it's because I feel, maybe for the first time ever, that I have enough space in this house to properly function. That I'm not camping, in other words.

We're almost moved in. Oh, I'm not totally deluded - I know that there're still hours & hours of work ahead of us in the form of unpacking & sorting & deciding, but I'm finally starting to feel as if I live here instead of just crouching here on a temporary basis.

Pixie's coming to town tonight, so now the goal is to clear off enough space near the couch futon for her to feel comfortable. There's nothing less appealing when you're a guest than stacks & mounds of kibble around your temporary territory.

Booty Call: Day 273 - 39 wks gestation, 41 wks LMP. Weight: 3600 gms+ or 7 1/2 - 8 lbs. There is nothing to say that hasn't already been said.