one week to go

I spent the morning with P and my dad, chatting over a glorious breakfast outside in the sun, before we returned home and packed some of my things (bookshelf, chest of drawers, desk, etc) into my dad's panel van to take back to my parents' house. This afternoon I did a trial packing of my suitcase, to see how many clothes I could cram in for my 23kg's worth on Delta Airlines. Well, I put in pretty much everything I wanted, barring a few items that I put into the 'disputed necessity' box in my cupboard, and the total weight was 18,6kg. Bliss... This gives me some room to play, and it means the hiking boots will probably come along to Maine after all.

This afternoon, I also went along with C and N to their appointment with the midwives at the maternity clinic where N is planning to give birth in the water (for the second time). C and N invited me along because they thought it'd be fun for me to see this particular midwifery practice from the inside, and perhaps imagine how my own practice might look and feel in a few years' time. The midwives, one of whom will not be at N's birth because she herself is 38 weeks pregnant, were fabulously down-to-earth and friendly, and I instantly liked them both. They had a little trouble finding little E's heartbeat in the womb, although there was no worry for his well-being because he was kicking like mad all the while. Then one midwife went out of the room to fetch a different Doptone, and when she returned and applied it, the heartbeat magically appeared within seconds! There was joy all round as the whump-whump sound echoed across the room.

The midwives spent most of the visit having a heart-to-heart chat with N about her stress levels and job commitments, and in truth I had no idea that she'd been taking things this hard until today. I love her to bits and she's such a close friend of mine, and yet she's been hiding her anxiety so well that even I thought she was somehow coping miraculously well in spite of her current troubles. We women can do an incredible job of hiding our pain and fear and stress under a façade of efficient capability. (Although, having said that, so can men.)

Well, I'm leaving in a week, and there's no danger here of covering up my (sometimes) disquietude with a happy-go-lucky mask. I'm scared, and sad to leave so many things behind, and yet so freakin' excited about midwifery school that I can hardly think straight. Watching those midwives today just added more fuel to the fire. Thank you, N, for letting me tag along. And thank you, P, for calling me "Super Midwife" so often when I walk in the front door.