But meanwhile, here is a photo from this very evening, featuring both wee Claire and yours truly (also a brief appearance made by our bookshelves):

( and then we danced around )

And a bonus! Here is Beth and Claire, from a couple of days ago, folding laundry together:

( you'll notice that someone is doing a fine job of sitting up )

Not surprisingly, the baby continues to smile. Also, she is considerably more stylish than either of her mothers.

( Incidentally, one of these pictures has tissue paper in the background. Guess who liked to try and eat it. )

And we have photographic proof.

( Lo. )

I've been trying to update more often for a while now -- as it turns out, it's much easier if I'm at home all day (and when I have odd sleeping patterns).

--

Appearances for today have been cancelled, since wee baby had a rather good showing yesterday that ended with a slight over-stimulated meltdown yesterday evening -- she is now refusing to leave her trailer until someone gets her agent on the phone, dammit.

--

So at College of My Heart (and, I assume, other schools as well), there's this phenomenon wherein the anxious student (i.e., all of us) will procrastinate and avoid one class's work... by doing the work for another class. So even though the student is doing the right thing and working her tail off, she still feels guilty for skiving off.

Turns out, this feeling does not disappear after college. Which I sort of knew, thanks to the day job, but I'm being reminded of it right now because I am researching/plotting the sequel to Salt and Silver... while at the same time reading some Val McDermid books to study the style for a project of my own. They're both good uses of my time, but every time I get sucked into the McDermid, I feel hideously guilty. Hurray for anxiety.

(The McDermid is extremely appealing, but the sequel work is actually more pervasive. This includes drawing little diagrams in my notebook, reading a biography of Mary, Queen of Scots, looking up mythological mermaid variants from notes I'd taken several months ago, and actually writing. The mermaid thing might be a dead-end, but it's a start.)

--

Today's oddity: I looked in the mirror today and realized that, huh, I can sometimes be considered reasonably attractive. This is... extremely surprising to me. I was expecting a lot of things from and following pregnancy, but finding myself pretty wasn't really one of them.

For those in the area, Beth and I -- and wee baby -- will be crashing the Readercon lobby/hallways on Saturday, starting around lunchtime (when we will abscond with Claire's aunt and uncles) and then for some portion of the afternoon. Further appearances will depend upon the baby's feelings on the matter, and whether anyone bribes us to show up at a different time.

This morning it struck me how hilarious Claire can be while I'm changing her. She does this thing where her eyes are wide open and she's looking at me with full focus, stretched out, a pacifier in her mouth... and her hands splayed over her cheeks, just pressing against them as if she's saying "Faaaaaaace. MY FAAAAAAAAACE."

Since Claire's birth, we haven't had a single sunny day. Not. A. One.

Either this means that she presages the coming of the apocalypse, or she herself will become a dark lord of some kind.

Or we have somehow moved to Forks, Washington, and must be careful that she doesn't meet with any tall, pale, oddly obsessive boys out for her blood love.


In other news, ( have a picture. )

polonius, with his excellent Cass macro.

( Claire Juliana )
born 7:09 PM, Wednesday, June 17th, 2009
7 lbs. 6 oz.
19 inches

So, I'm still pregnant. Like, there is still an infant in here. On the other hand, I've reached 38 weeks and four days, which means I am totally term -- I could have this kid tonight and they'd let me take her home when I left the hospital.

I'll probably write up the actual story of the birth when it comes (not with, you know, details), and of course after there is infant in the house I'll want to talk about her and post endless photos -- or, more probably, sleep a great deal. And then post those endless photos. So now's probably as good a time as any to discuss the last nine months. I'd meant to write it up as I went along, but some bits were miserable, and some bits were boring, and most bits I didn't really figure out what was going on until later, so I eventually decided that I'd wait until it was almost all over before writing about it. And here we are.

( Finding Out )


( The First Trimester )


( The Second Trimester )


( The Third Trimester )


( Finally, Seven Extra Pieces of Info (Or, So TMI You Wouldn't Believe It, I'm Not Even Joking, Don't Click Unless You Really Want to Know) )


So... any questions?

Fun: Writing essays blog posts about esoteric stuff and writing, as if I am at all worth listening to in this regard.

Not-fun: Writing these blog posts because I am putting off worldbuilding and such, despite very much needing to do so.


Fun: Knowing the baby is going to come in around a month (or less. or more. hurray for the imprecision of infants).

Not-fun: The sudden desire for a hovercraft with which to maneuver through life. You'd think that wanting a hovercraft is a normal and reasonable thing. Perhaps. But when one really wants it, and knowing it is cannot be yours, you find yourself much less charitable with the world.


Fun: Something, I suppose.

Not-fun: The lack of ice cream, omg.

Childbirth class tonight. Beth and I are the only queer couple amongst a host of heterosexual couples, and while this is not a bad thing in and of itself, I think we may be the first pair of lesbians the teacher has ever had. I say this because there was a moment when the following dialogue approximately was had:

TEACHER
...prostaglandins are useful to bring on labor as well, and one of the ways to release those is during intercourse, having orgasms--

ALL OF US
*nod thoughtfully*

TEACHER'S BRAIN
Oh noes! I meant to be referring specifically to semen without having to actually SAY semen. Except I have lesbians here! I must be inclusive of them. How to address this...

TEACHER
*turns and smiles at us* And of course, even if you don't have a male partner, there are ways you can have the same sort of, um, release of these chemicals.

CASS AND BETH
PLEASE DO CONTINUE DISCUSSING OUR SEX LIVES IN FRONT OF THE CLASS THIS IS NOT AWKWARD AT ALL.

TEACHER
Different methods you can use to achieve the same ends...

CASS AND BETH
*die*

EVERYBODY ELSE
*sympathy death*

Aaagghh, it was so well-meant, and so incredibly painful to experience.

I sing to myself. A lot. (Note: My singing ability is nil, so let's skip that part of the discussion.) At one point some years ago I discovered that I had about three hours' worth of solid music to draw on (this is no longer the case, but it certainly speaks well for my capacity). This is, in many ways, great.

Not so great: I am now confronted with the realization that I don't have three hours worth of children's music to sing. Which is swiftly becoming relevant. I have trad folk ballads. The themes tend to be rape, murder, sex, betrayal, madness, and crime. For instance, favorites of mine are Mr. Fox, When I Was in My Prime, The Coachman's Whip, and The Famous Flower of Serving-Men.

I spent some time worrying about this -- I mean, should I really be singing our wee baby to sleep to the gentle tune of a sister tossing her sibling over a cliff? Do I really want to hear a tiny two-year-old singing about a bonny black hare in front of her grandparents? And then there's the question of what to do the day the gentle soul asks me if I really was sorry the day I was married.

Beth eventually reassured me that if I didn't get it when I was a wee babe, our child is unlikely to as well. As long as the tune is repetitive and appropriate for the circumstances (so singing about a misty moisty morning while trying to put her to sleep is probably ill-advised), it's unlikely to do lasting harm.

And yet, this will not prevent me from hurrying up and memorizing those two middle verses of "Sovay", though, or the last third of "The Maid on the Shore". I might as well have something vaguely positive to sing to her...

Last Monday we went in for our fetal survey (making sure wee baby had all the appropriate limbs, growth, heads) and ostensibly to find out the sex of the baby. At the time, we got a very slight “meh, perhaps it is female?” from the sonogram technician.

On Friday, we went in again, and this time certain fetuses decided to be a bit more clear about things:

( Girl! )

We are very pleased. We’ve thought all along that we were having a boy -- to be having a girl is just too cool for words. Matriarchy for the win!

(The picture cut-tagged above is the result of the other neat adventure from Friday: the use of the 3D sonogram view, wherein we got to see our little one playing with her toes. If you have difficulty telling what is baby and what is strange upside-down ostrich, a helpful viewing guide can be found here.)

*more than a little giggly*

WE'RE HAVING A BABY!

And ( here ) and ( here ) are pictures of it! We saw its precious little heart beating this morning. We are very, VERY pleased.

-Beth