We are into June and the mere possibility of the baby coming in May has passed.  This is not all together bad as it was not all together something we were actively hoping for either.  The past week or so has been a flurry of activity and shuffled schedules and last minute tick-marks on checklists.  Etc.  Ever since our May 23rd midwife appointment and that news, well it has been a but hard to concentrate…

A. seems to be taking the anxiety and the nuance of all the past week in much better stride than I am.  My mind is full of intrusive thoughts every hour.  I bombard her with the text messages that certain family members are no doubt tempted to unleash as well.  (We thank them for their restraint though it feels like a mistake to have shared “that news” sometimes.)  That every woman’s tale is different only adds to my agitation.  There is no reliable reference point and no way of making even remotely accurate predictions.  Has there been any change since the last appointment?  Are things “imminent” or weeks away?  There is an endless stream of related questions.  And as such, we turn ourselves to distractions.  We bought a new camera.  We make trips to our garden.  We come up with all kinds of little “dates” to get ourselves out.  We saw the new Indiana Jones.  (It was great.)  We keep stuffing our meager little freezer with meals.

Through it all we have been dealing with the nagging feeling that “someone” is coming any day now.  (Or not.)  And unfortunately, we have also been dealing with the drama that is our downstairs neighbors.  Last weekend it was noise that went on well into the night…  Last night it was some fight that erupted out onto the street.  (We placed two calls to the police as we feared for the safety of the young woman downstairs; not to mention our own safety and the safety of our property.  We don’t need to put up with that shit.)  The whole thing got our respective blood pressures up and try as we might, it was very difficult to stay at all calm and collected through the whole thing.  What kind of people have fights and shouting matches?  A. lamented after things had started to die down that she felt guilty, like it was somehow bad to bring a baby home to a place where things like that happen.  I told her I refused to feel guilty — that this just raises the stakes and means that my already low threshold for stupid bullshit just had its bottom pulled out.  I don’t really give a shit if I get dirty looks or if they trash talk me on Facebook (I had a dream about that (don’t ask)) or whatever.  You want to think I’m the world’s worst neighbor?  Fine.  But if we all sleep a little safer and sounder at night, I’m counting up the interest on those thankful sentiments for when you get around to paying them.

I suppose that in a nutshell the sentiment around here is: we cannot wait to fucking move (but why should I change when you’re the one that sucks?)

So yes…  Pile all of that onto the bubbling cauldron of pre-existing nervousness that follows me around like an aggressive panhandler.  And just like it’s all weird how there is no reliable “Gold Standard” of what to expect with the physical parts of birth, it’s all weird what else has been like (or very UN-like) what people have told us to expect.  As we left the garden last night, A. admitted that she didn’t expect her mobility to be so restricted.  But she also didn’t expect to still have a smokin’ figure at 38 weeks either.  We did expect that there would be all kinds of unbearable excitement and enthusiasm from family members.  We didn’t expect that there would be so many people that would question or otherwise outright reject our wishes.  I’m sure I could come up with a dozen more examples if I tried…  But anyway: the plan for today is to put the last of the seedlings into the garden.  And then find more activities to distract us.