Today was my first official prenatal visit with Kristen, in my apartment. I had no idea what to expect. I made my bed in case there was any lying-down-and-peering-in-the-vagina. (There wasn't.) She took my blood pressure, measured my belly, and listened to the baby's heartbeat. No worries over the fact that I don't have a scale. This is heaven. I don't have to leave the house or feel anxious about getting fat. Awesome!
Ricki Lake's homebirth documentary, The Business of Being Born, has been sitting in our apartment unwatched for, oh, two years now. Tonight we finally saw it. And it made me rethink the idea of having Theo present for the birth. At first, I didn't want him distracting Nathan. More important, I didn't want to scare -- or scar -- my Theo. I mean, that's a lot to look at. But maybe being at home with us would actually be less traumatic. After all, if you went out for a playdate and came back to find a new brother, you might never want to leave the house again.
Kristen gave me a checkup and asked Theo if he wanted to hear the baby's heartbeat. He quickly scooted up on the couch and nestled up next to me. Thump-thump-thump. "Baby!" he said. Tears!
The birthing kit arrived today! It's filled with gauze, a syringe, straws (!), a baby hat (!), measuring tape, and more. So exciting! Next step: Unearth old sheets and towels from the basement; buy a shower-curtain liner for the bed and zipper bags to put the placenta in. Apparently, for sanitary reasons, it needs to be secured before you throw it out. I've heard some people actually bury it in the backyard, but I'm a renter -- I don't think my landlord would be too thrilled with that idea.