Joe told me yesterday morning that he had a dream that I had the baby. It was a boy, and he was John's size. (Ack!) He was born at home, but the doctor came to the house. When he came out, he was covered in slime and he was so slippery we all kept dropping him.
Huh. I never thought about other members of the family having dreams about the baby.
Yesterday I interviewed one other midwife I had heard of and then officially hired my favorite. To answer Vicki's question in the comments, here's the history: Joe and John were both born in Vegas using the same midwife seven years apart. I like her alright, I definitely trust her capability, and I appreciate how she works with me in labor. However, she lives on the complete opposite side of Vegas. I hated the long round-trip drive even just the last two months of my pregnancy with John (we moved here when I was seven months pregnant with him). Plus, a few new midwives have cropped up since the days when I interviewed with my first pregnancy. And the one I've chosen has some slightly different certifications than many of the rest - along with the fact that she was an L&D nurse for five years; a hospital midwife practicing with an O.B. for three; and has now set up her homebirth practice for three years as well. She even studied with the Amish community I read about! Plus I like her, plus she carries pitocin in case I get bleedy, which is my largest birthing fear (we all have at least one, right?) So happy day. I made my first appointment for after the 10-week mark, hoping I'll hear the heartbeat.