Ok, so here it is in a nutshell:

The bathroom sits, tub and surround in place, with pipes waiting to be set and connected. John the plumber never called.

My contractions have stayed quiet whilst we have toiled on the house.

Tomorrow we are going to the plumber first thing. Mama is going to work the ever-loving-heck out of her belly in the hopes of appealing to the plumber’s sense of pity (or scaring the hell out of him). Then, in my perfect scenario, we’ll take said plumber back to our house, show him the pipes and begin the affordable (a girl can dream) journey to bathing in our own home again.

Healthy plumbing. Healthy baby. Contented Amanda.

You know what?

I take it all back. I just want her to be healthy.