It is 4 am and I have decided that I am like a volcano. In seventh grade we monitored the volcanic activity of Mt. St. Helen’s. Each day we combed through newspaper articles to record the most recent shifting of that “giant igneous rock formation.” My favorite movie at the time was Dante’s Peak.
As the due date draws near, I find myself constantly monitoring my body. I mentally (and sometimes publicly) take note of every change, shift, and by golly each contraction that the torpedo belly experiences. It is both maddening and exhilarating. There is no guessing the hour of actual labor, though I can record several instances of “false labor,” similar to my Costco Contractions.
At any moment, there could be an explosion of sorts (literally). The baby has dropped significantly since my last doctor’s appointment (at least it feels like it – this hasn’t been confirmed by an examination) and painful contractions occur daily. Other things are happening too, but I will spare the world of details.
It could still be weeks.
Bags are packed, car seat installed, the room is in order, and mom and I are walking the beach regularly.
At 39 weeks, I feel like a volcano.