[How much bigger can it possibly get?]
Officially “term” and officially insured!! It’s all very exciting. Starting at 36 weeks, the doctor checked my cervix to see if there was progression and lo, there was: I was already dilated a little—enough that she said she could reach in and touch the baby’s head—and the cervix was thinning out. Also, the head was low and lining up “nicely.” Ahhh, good stuff. A week later, my cervix was quite a lot thinner, there was more dilation and the head was squarely smack in the middle of my pelvis, mere inches from the exit, and “engaged.” Which is to say, wedged down in a funnel and quite probably stuck there for the remainder of the pregnancy.
Poor baby with her head stuck down in a hole! I keep imagining the old cartoon scenario where the unfortunate hero gets his head stuck in, say, a bucket. Trying to dislodge the bucket, he employs both arms and legs, feet desperately pushing against the bucket. I feel like this baby is trying out some of the same moves.
Also, all this effacement and dilation and head engaged business sounds pretty serious; I just might be having a baby here in the next week or two (cough). Happily, the midwife at the clinic went on about how the positioning is perfect (head wedged down in a hole = good positioning from everyone’s standpoint except possibly the baby’s) and complimented me on my ischial spines, which are “wide and roomy” with “pleeeeenty” of space for the baby. I of course made her repeat a few times just how great the insides of my pelvis were; pregnant girls like to hear things like this.
The frontal view = Oh My God.
I had to have Joshua tie my shoes the other day. Then I had to have him untie the freaky knots he tied because they were different than the knots I usually tie. Eating at a table is also getting difficult because it is uncomfortable to lean forward. Unfortunately, if I don’t hover directly over what it is I am trying to eat, I will spill food down my shirt, get drips on the belly-shelf, and any cleavage drops won’t be discovered until I’m lying in bed and wondering where all the crumbs came from.
At this point it is difficult not to over-analyze every pang or movement because I worry about whether I will know when I’m in labor. “Hmm, my back has a weird twingey ache… COULD THIS BE IT?!?” only to discover after timing it for half an hour that I’ve been leaning up against the laptop’s power supply. Of course, the general consensus of every single person who has ever been pregnant (note: this is a formidable group who is not shy about offering advise) is that there is absolutely NO mistaking actual labor for anything else. But it still makes me wonder how many of those women spent quality time unwittingly sitting on their laptop cords.