Somehow I have managed, in an exhilarating bout of obliviousness, to completely miss the local screening of The Business of Being Born. Local as in right in my neighbourhood within walking on a -25 c freezing cold night distance. Clearly I have been spending too much time doing the photographed above (i.e. being leeched upon) and not enough time reading posted flyers on street corners, or attending LLL meetings with well connected birth advocates. Although, you know, I really thought I was doing a decent amount of that.

This realization (made upon reading a review of the bloody screening in the community paper) has caused much wailing around here – because, man! I really wanted to see that movie because it was all birthy and politic and the trailer made me get all weepy at the end even after I’d watched it 17 times in a row, and now I’ll have to wait forever and ever for it to make its way up to Canada.

Sigh. I think I’m itching to indulge my inner birth junkie, midwifery style. Watching that trailer reminded me how ridiculously fantastic it is to be studying a profession in which I frequently cry tears of uncontained joy.
Present incomplete essay notwithstanding, as usual.

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