seven months down, or what's going on.

M: If you don't update your website soon, you're going to lose your readers.
K: If they're not already gone, they're not going anywhere.

Yesterday I met my new midwife, who speaks very quickly. She's one of two CNMs (certified nurse-midwives) practicing via my OB-GYN's office. I think we've got the most liberal birthing scenario I can imagine being comfortable with -- two midwives on call, doctor backup at the hospital from one of three OBs I've already met, what seems to be a very lenient hospital in terms of "weird" birthing preferences (bring whoever you'd like, eat if you're hungry, no unnecessary or unexplained procedures, make noise, take off your fetal monitor, move around, play music, take a shower, bump around on a birthing ball, take the baby still slimy, go home when you're ready, etc.).

We even found a hip old pediatrician, who also happens to be a lactation consultant, and who referred to my boobs first as "equipment," and later as "units." He seemed particularly impressed with my nipples, but really, who wouldn't be?

We're in what's starting to feel like the home stretch, and today I bought a carseat and a stroller. The teacher in our chilbirth education class says if it takes you less than 30 minutes and breaking into a sweat to install the carseat, then you've done it wrong. I say that's Marc's job, since I can't spend more than five minutes on anything without rivulets finding their way into my new cleavage.

If you've been planning a visit to see us, come soon because the spare room is about to be less spare, and the bed's the next thing to go.

I do have two more months, and really no good excuses for having nothing to say here, except that my breasts are all the news that's really fit to print, and they're not, really, so when I try to write, they're all I can think about, and this is the most I've been able to put into words in weeks.