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2001-12-22

Last night around three I awoke having what seemed like contractions. I'd been dreaming about all these mafiosos telling me to put together my birthing pool (I do not in real life have a birthing pool). This was no doubt influenced by watching the second half of The Godfather Part II last night and was all rather feverish. I lay in bed for a while then got up and had a snack and the contractions seemed to wane. Eventually, not easily, I got back to sleep.

I awoke again around nine. B's mom called and confirmed my suspicions that this is what early labor is like--sporadic contractions, mild and not very regular--and that I'm getting there. She suggested I go about my business today rather than sitting around waiting for something to happen, so I accompanied B to the old house to clear more stuff out of the attic and then to our storage unit(s).

Have I mentioned that we rented a 5x10 foot unit in addition to the existing 10x10 unit? Rolling up the doors to these reveals Walls of Crap that just make you want to cry. What better indicator of American excess than these self-storage units that dot the landscape? We pay good chunks of dough every month to hang onto junk so crammed in as to making finding any one actual item a near impossibility; when that happens, we just go to the nearest megastore and buy a replacement.

But enough on excess, back to the issue at hand: this kid. Should I stimulate my nipples in an attempt to induce labor? Beulah the Doula called earlier to check in and told me she'd gotten both her labors started with a mere two minutes of squeezing and twirling. Beats castor oil, I suppose.

I started reading The Corrections tonight. So far, it is very, very good; I'm pretty much hooked.

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