Friday, September 27, 2013

Moodiness... or righteous fury?

People can fuck off.  A lot of people.

Curiously, the two people who can most fuck off at this moment are both short black lesbians.  I only know the two, but they both need to shut their mouths.
Heather and I have a lot of antisocial tendencies between us: small talk is not our thing, and new people aren’t our thing, and big groups aren’t our thing, either.  That’s one way we’re right for each other.  It’s also kept us pretty quiet about the baby news, which we spilled immediately to our close friends and family but have assiduously avoided sharing with anyone else.  If there’s a chance someone I don’t especially like is going to try to share advice or—god forbid—hug me, I’m going to keep things on the DL.  So when someone on the approved list shared with someone outside it, I was not so pleased, and I informed her thusly.  I’m kind of a grump to start, but Heather tells me I’ve been much snappier over the past month or so, and I’m inclined to believe her.  Compromising or dropping an issue just seems like a waste of time right now.

In this antisocial spirit, Heather’s main objection when I told her I wanted to have a homebirth with a midwife was that it would mean there would be hippies in our house for 48 hours.  And, indeed, the midwife does have two apprentices, and they’ve joined us for our appointments so far.  Yesterday, I lay on an exam table (no wax-paper covering but a real sheet!) getting a Doppler scan on my abdomen while the midwife, Heather, and both doulas stood by.  It took ages to track the little one down—Midwife Jamie said he/she is “a swimmer”—and everyone politely listened to the strange swirly static until finally the swimmer was cornered and we heard the speedy little heartbeat.  All these ladies are mellow and laid-back, but it was certainly an unusual gathering.

My contention is that Heather probably won’t want to apply counter-pressure to my back or prepare damp washcloths for the entirety of my labor, so having some other folks around might work in her favor.  Now, it’s true that our house is only 1,600 sq. ft. and extra people will not go unnoticed, but April weather is nice here, so we could always set them out on the deck with a bottle of (organic) wine if it got too crowded.  Or Heather could run to Starbucks when she couldn’t stand my moaning anymore. 

Speaking of whiny women, we got back the results from last week’s genetic test: our little swimmer is a healthy girl.

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