The final countdown has begun.

Judging from the large measurements many of us were convinced that this baby was going to be making an early arrival. We were filled with some naive hope that perhaps Gaibi would have the 'perfect' pregnancy after all. As of about a week ago it had been relatively smooth sailing. No major swelling. No sore feet. Not too much water retension. This is to say nothing of the litany of other things that can create a little piece of hell for very expectant mothers.

Well that naive sparkle has worn off and here we are in the very unsparkly world of the verge of human birth. Enter: fat, aching feet and swollen ankles. Small, frequent feedings and even more frequent bathroom trips. An aching back and stretch marks along the hips. Feelings of restlessness coupled with utter exhaustion and need for naps.

The sweet little novelty in Gaibi's stomach has evolved into a very large, very substantial mass that very unapologetically takes up most of the available room in her body cavity and doesn't pay rent. It demands food and exhibits little in the way of patience. As the due dates creeps near we find ourselves wondering if our child will make a timely entrance or keep gaining weight and enjoying the free room service until nature evicts it. (On an interesting side note, did you know that birth is the first independent 'action' that the baby makes? Apparently it secretes a certain hormone or chemical when the time is right to let the mother's body know that its time to take a trip to 'laborland')

The tub, a huge plastic monstrosity originally intended for large farm animals, still sits in our driveway. It had to be moved from its original location in the yard due to a large and unusual snowstorm that swept through here last week.

During my unemployment I've managed to maintain my masculine identity by way of the huge stack of wood in our back yard. Due to electricity costs, we've been attempting to heat our house almost entirely with the wood burning stove. This means that on a typical morning I, (Dad) go out and chop wood to start up a fire while Gaibi (Mama) starts something for breakfast. It usually takes a few hours to heat up the house that way but with the smell of the burning cedar and look of the flames licking the cold, dark house in the morning it proves well worthwhile.

For the rest of the day we try to keep a fairly low profile, taking long walks, looking for work for me and making last minute preparations for the baby. We stocked up on juice and have reviewed the chapter in our baby book on 'how to be a good labor supporter'. Every now and then we'll make some art work and fantasize about selling it but inevitably end up giving it away. The weather in Eugene is fickle and incosistent. The other night it was snowing with lightning and thunder. A few days later it went from dreary downpour to beatific sunshine about 10 times over. Some days are frosty and clear, others are lukewarm and drizzly.

So far the job search has proven slow and underwhelming, leaving me trawling the notably dry Oregon market for something that falls under the category of 'socially-responsible-yet-economically-viable'. It seems that in this country you find either uninspired public programs trying to manage the incredible mass of children dumped into its system or well-meaning private initiatives, juicing their employees for every last drop while trying to cull enough funding from their wealthy-family patrons to stay afloat. Truly, there is very little middle ground.

At least not in Eugene.

Ok, the house is getting cold. The fire has been out for a few hours and the wood floors are starting to chill. Better get to bed. Goodnight.