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I've realized that I AM nesting.

You see, I have this thing about beds all of a sudden...

I have become obsessed with the notion that I must have all the sleeping arrangements finalized NOW for all of my children. This is despite my 1) being the proud owner of 2 cribs, 2 toddler beds, a twin bed, and a set of bunk beds, and 2) only having four children (on the outside, as some of my former co-workers would have said). Discounting the top bunk of the bunk bed (babies too young to trust on ladder), I still have FOUR places for a toddler/pre-schooler to sleep and TWO places for a baby to sleep. Right now.

So I found another set of bunks beds.

And I'm looking for another toddler bed.

Oh, did I mention bullet point three? 3) Fiver will sleep upstairs close to me (or more specifically close to my boobies) until s/he is 4-6 months old. That's like next August. A year from now.

Am I nesting or what?!

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In other news, my Genetic Councellor has taken a powder. I am in a total panic.

This is the lady who has held my other hand through all four of my amnios, who calmly advised me on testing, who would answer all my scatterbrained questions and who knew, when ringing me with the results, to say: "Hi, Blue! ThisisClaireEVERYTHING'SJUSTFINE!" in a rush before saying anything else.

I actually rang the head of the department over at the university in a tizzy and left her a breathless message (which, to her credit, she returned immediately). She was very understanding and calm (this must be a class genetic councellors take: SERENITY 111, Room 312, 11a.m. Dr. Tran Quille) but i still have an urge to stalk the place. Drive up unexpectedly and quiz the doctors ("How many of these have you done? Just estimate. A hundred? A thousand?! TELL ME!")

So I'm trying to be reasonable and relaxed (*SNORT!*) about this amnio. I mean, bad stuff happens (note I didn't say: to good people). There could be something wrong with Fiver. She could have Down Syndrome or worse. She could have a cleft lip or a nerual tube problem. I could fall down the ladder that masquerades as steps in my house or crash my car. Or something could go wrong at the amnio.

A thousand things could happen, but most likely ... won't. I shall endevour to be calm.

*hyperventilates*

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PS: for giggles, check out Evil Genius Husband's antics in the barnyard in his underpants on Open Wound Monday! (Thank you Heather for the bad link heads up! *mwah*)