The days continue to pass, but I don’t do much. I read throughout much of the day with the dog curled up with me on the sofa. It’s not entirely unpleasant, but I don’t feel much like a useful member of society. I find excuses for myself to get dressed. Yesterday, I took a shower, put on makeup, and did my hair just to go get a burrito. It was very exciting. Today, I had an actual appointment in the morning, but nothing, really, the rest of the day, so I’m watching Pitch Perfect.
Seriously, I can’t get enough of that movie.
It’s a bit of a weird feeling, being very busy on the inside of my body, but very idle outside. The baby squirms a lot, and there’s so little room in my belly now that I can see just about every movement he makes. It’s like watching the rise and fall of the ocean, but in my torso.
I’m on day four of some serious Braxton Hicks action. I’ve had mild, painless contractions for months, but they’ve finally decided to be rather unpleasant. As my mother-in-law says, they’re good practice. I’ve started timing the contractions in a vain hope that the real deal will kick off sometime soon. But the duration and frequency are entirely inconsistent, so I haven’t gotten too excited just yet.
I had my 38-week appointment today. It seems that I’m about 1cm dilated and 30 percent effaced, and the doctor did something called “sweeping the membranes,” which he said could help things along. He seemed optimistic that I might go into labor in the next week. We’ll see. I’ve got to say, I’m very ready for this kid to be born.
Our dog, Stella, will be in for a big surprise when it finally happens. She has been very spoiled lately. We lounge together quite a lot. And with my influx of hormones, I’ve been adoring her sweetness more than usual. I feel bad that her place is about to be usurped by the baby. She has no idea what’s happening, and my attention is about to be taken over entirely and rather abruptly.