Day Five-Thirty-Eight: The soap might help

I've spent the last twenty-four hours trying to puzzle out a way to remove my kid from Libby's stomach without hurting her. I've been working on the assumption that it's gonna come out roughly the size of, say, Logan, and all of my strategies have hinged on that size.

Half an hour ago, I presented my ideas to Libby. She was… unimpressed. Indeed, I believe her exact words were "None of that shit's gonna work, stupid. Stop being stupid. So stupid."

What was stupid, you ask? Well, here's a brief list of some of my more ingenious ideas.

- Somebody heavy jumps on Libby's stomach. The force will temporarily deform the baby into something smaller and thinner and launch it out of Libby's thinger. A third party will stand by to catch the baby as it emerges.

- We feed Libby a big bucket of either soap or oil. This will coat the baby in the respective substance and grant it easier passage out of the thinger.

- Conversely, we have someone ready to coat the baby with oil or soap as it's emerging from the thinger. We can even pour some of the liquid into and around the… area… to expedite passage.

- IN ADDITION to the last point, we tie a rope around the baby's leg when it comes out. Then a few strong members of the crew yank it out with one good tug. Catcher is again required.

- We hunt down June and force her to teleport the damned baby out. Or something. We need to prosecute her anyway. (I asked Plato if he could use his teleporting trick to get the baby out, but, no dice. He said that was a one-way deal. Rats.)

- We invent a new type of laxative that works on your thinger instead of your butt. Maybe it's real easy to cook up. You don't know.

- Or… uh… we cut her open. Yeah.

I hate how the last one is the only real alternative. The rest… I think the rest were just so I could make the situation a bit goofy. Take some of the pressure off, as it were.

It worked. Libby smiled. But she's worried, too. She never talks about it - hell, she acts as though the belly's not pinning her down, most of the time - but she's worried. The baby is kicking more and more often. It wants out, and it's gonna come out soon.

The Dauphine is making tracks for the nearest town, no less than Bottomless. We're hoping to find a proper doctor there who can perform some kinda preggers surgery on Libby. But Bottomless is more than a week away. The wet nurse onboard assures us that Libby will give birth in the next two or three days. Not enough time, there, not nearly enough time.

I work to keep myself from thinking about it too much. The Dauphine's crazy engine always needs a bit of maintenance, and I've learned a few things from watching Libby. Still, though… there's only so much you can do to push the worry away before it starts to push back.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Wanderer