Mexican-Jumping-Football-Baby

When I mentioned to Hanan Levin that BH apparently has been trampolining off my spleen and pancreas, he of course had just the link:

"Trapped Bear Springs Off Trampoline To Safety"

As of this week the baby has a doctor, so I'm feeling slightly less troubled that having a room still is a ways off. Dr. A. turned out to be a pleasant young South African-Israeli, whose waiting room was packed with a great variety of moms and dads to be, including a couple expecting through a surrogate. I found the whole process of baby doctor selection and designation eye opening. This is how it works (here, and I'm assuming elsewhere): as long as your baby will be born at a hospital in your baby doctor's "jurisdiction," it turns out all you need to know at zero-hour is the doc's name. He or she doesn't need advance notice, or a call from you when labor starts, because the pediatricians patrol the maternity ward regularly looking for the new babies to whom they've been assigned. It's a never ending draft of rookie recruits, with choose-ups happening each morning in the nursery.