I'm probably normal. Probably.
The only thing I've waited longer for than the release of the trapped Beaconsfield miners is an official report from the resident cardiologist at the hospital where I plan to give birth. It hadn't been delivered to the team midwives at my ante-natal appointment last Tuesday. Nothing urgent really depends on it - I'd just like to know if my ticker is going to need any attention between now and Delivery Day; and if I'll be able to at least have a crack at delivering naturally (so to speak). But no news is good news, in my books.
Apart from that absent confirmation, the appointment went very well indeed. BP was normal, which was my main concern. And the obstetrician said that pending advice to the contrary, he couldn't see any reason why I couldn't deliver naturally. Yay!
This appointment was one of the few that was scheduled when hubby wasn't working, so he came with me and did all the important things like asking questions, nodding sagely at the answers and catching up on gossip magazines from mid-2005 while we were in the waiting room. I think he was totally unprepared for the amount of time we spent waiting between appointments, and expressed a little sympathy for me having to do it over and over again. But as I've said before, it really doesn't bother me, and it's better than having no publicly-funded maternity program at all.
I guess the ante-natal experience is a bit Zen, in more ways than one. Not only do I sit quietly for hours contemplating my navel (which is still an inny, thank goodness), I'm also starting to look more and more like Buddha...