Well I am afraid we are still hovering in baby limbo. Although I am all set to go at any possible second, Sproutlette is taking her sweet time. I have been dilated to a 4 for the last 3 weeks, and as of my appointment last Thursday I am, not surprisingly, exactly the same. This makes sense because more than that and it would be fairly unheard of to be walking around like a normal person. Although the midwife says you can technically get up to 7 before you start being in serious labor generally the stages go like this:
Latent phase: 0-3 centimeters
Active Labor: 4-7 centimeters
Transition: 8-10 centimeters
Complete: 10 centimeters. Delivery of the infant takes place shortly after this stage is reached (although the mother does not always push right away.)
So essentially I am a time bomb. Teetering precariously on the edge of labor, waiting to go at any possible second. Will it be an hour? A day? Another 3 weeks? We don't know. And of course, the false labor continues with lots of braxton hicks contractions making me constantly think "this could be it" only to have them fizzle out in a most unsatisfying manner.
Thus, here is a quick look into how I go through my days:
The rational side of my brain says: Every day inside is a day that makes this sweet girl bigger and stronger and more ready to meet the world. She is still "a week early" if she was born at this point. Sprout WILL be here in the next 3 weeks, someday this limbo will actually come to an end and then you will have an adorable pudgy cheeked ball of tiny sweetness for real. She will scream and cry and dirty up a hundred million diapers and there will be moments all you wish for is a few minutes of that belly time where she was so quite and content and if only you could go back to being pregnant for a few short minutes you would, so you ENJOY this, you wont get this time back.
The hormone-laden pregnant part of my brain says: Get out! Get out! Get out! Get out of meeee! I am going to be pregnant FOREVER. I will be the first woman in the history of all time pregnant with a teenager and I am already a cripple! My feet are swollen, my back hurts, I can't get from point a to point b without theatrical grunting and waddling, don't even get me started about the true misery of trying to roll over at night, and every kick causes a contraction and every contraction causes a kick and a poor pregnant girl can only take so much alien baby bone jabbing before it becomes too much. Oh and because you are such a bad sport at being pregnant, you are also going to be a failure at motherhood and probably life in general.
Or if that is too much to understand here it is in pictures:
Rational Brain: You are a pregnancy goddess, bringing life into the world, all is right and how it should be with nature, your body and your baby:
(p.s. I would totally snort allium flowers while caressing my naked belly in a field like this lady if I thought it would start labor)
Hormone soaked pregnancy brain: You are the human equivalent to this cat, and it WILL NEVER END. You will die a horrible death; crushing yourself by your own fat while simultaneously being knifed with boney weapons from the inside out.