Today is the date in my last pregnancy that Naomi was born, 38 weeks and 2 days. After today I will be as pregnant as I have ever been. E. was technically born on 38.2 also, but since that pregnancy was so hard to date, it will remain a mystery how pregnant I actually was.
The euphoria is beginning to wear off. My temper is thin and easily snapped. Bad moods blow in and out like summer storms.
I am watching closely for the little signs. A trip to the bathroom is a data gathering expedition, kind of like when I was charting. PlugWatch 2005.
The end finally seems like it could be imminent. I have prodromal labor, which made me so obsessed and miserable last time. Every ten minutes or so in the evenings I get strong contractions with cervical twinges and this wierd pulling sensation in my upper thighs. This has been going on almsot nightly since Thanksgiving. I don't really mind it. I know it means something is going on down there, and something tells me that the more prodromal labor I have, the easier active labor will be. Don't know if this is fact or fantasy. At this point, I don't care.
I dance every night. I make sure the blinds are shut and I shake this belly like there's no tomorrow. I wish someone would make a prenatal/labor bellydancing video. There's nothing like bellydancing in late pregnancy. Nothing has ever felt so good. How it looks, well, let's just say the only person who will ever see me do it is Naomi. And she thought it was pretty damn hilarious.
I'm ready. The house is ready. Naomi's ready. My slings are aquiver with anticipation.