The midwives came, the midwives went. All clear for home birth.
There was touring the house. There was talking about herbs and fruit soup. There was rolling on the floor laughing. There was the introduction to the pets. There was an inventory of the birth supplies, and there was the regular ol' check up of the Laura. I'm measuring 34 cm, right on schedule for growth (not three extra inches, as I expected). Baby remains head down and feet up, exactly where we want it to be. Heart rate steady in the 130s, continuing to perpetuate my belief that I'm carrying a little boy (apologies to my future daughter in the case that's untrue). Discussion of some options for belly painting and body art - the washable markers worked, but faded very quickly. We'll try that again this weekend.
And last, after they left, in the silence that settled, there was fear. I was suddenly afraid. It all became real. I knew that moment would hit, that "oh my god, I'm having a baby" moment. I guess I thought it would only come during labor, once the process had begun and I realized there was an exit strategy and what that actually meant. But instead, I'm struck by it now, weeks from the birth. I think it was because it was here, in our home. Dave and I looking at each other after they'd gone and realizing it was going to happen here. At our house. Maybe in the bathroom or the bedroom or even the kitchen, but either way, it would be here.
I'm a little surprised at myself, and a little disappointed. I'm not changing my mind, I still feel absolutely confident with the home-birth thing. I think this is more about birth in general, not location. That fear is a little twinge in the back of my head, a little chink in the mama armor I thought I had built. At least I've got some time to mull it over and work it out.