Early, but not too early.

What is happening to me, physically?

Well at 36 weeks, Ms. Thang weighed in at an estimated 6 lbs, 2 oz. She's much closer to 7 lbs now, and what's new is how solid she feels.

At the first quickening flutters, back when she was mango sized, the little darling felt like a butterfly or a pinball. She flipped upside down fairly early in the game - her feet are on my right side and have been for about 10 weeks. At first, it was novel feeling her work out her squats and deadlifts on my ribcage. Occasionally a shinbone would emerge and then just as smoothly recede into the evolving surface of my abdomen. I compared the sensation to a tiny person adjusting herself in a hammock (my pelvic floor, of course, is the hammock)

As time wore on and she grew in heft and girth, the nudges took on more force. "It's kind of like being kneaded by a kitty, except from the inside." I'd explain to people who would ask. The lump of shinbone (or heel, or whatever) took on the quality of a goiter - sticking out at an odd angle sometimes for a quarter hour at a time, until she decided to cross her legs the other way.

Now, in the Final Hours, we are like two strangers handcuffed together. Two particles with like charge trying to occupy the same space. 170 lbs of bone and guts in a 140 lb bag. Yes, there are gas and fluid exchanges, and endocrine cascades taking place. But the primary conversation now taking place between her body and mine is far less complicated:

"Scoot over."
"No, YOU scoot over."
"No, YOU."
"OW. Quit it."
"Why don't you turn on your other side?"
"Why don't you just COME OUT?"

Which is really what this is all about, isn't it? Around the 8 month mark, the amniotic fluid levels begin to decrease, buoyancy is impacted, Braxton-Hicks contractions ramp up in earnest, and I'm sure the internal climate is kind of like that moment when you realize that you've exhausted the hot water in the heater and your previously warm and comfortable bath is rapidly achieving room temperature.

I had been enjoying bouts of energy - not enough to want to stay at work, mind you, but enough to pull my house together. Now that I have taken leave, my days are strangely absent any structure. Historically, I do not thrive under these circumstances. I need to Go Places, and Do Things, and I suck at working from home. But I figured the impending baby and the nesting instinct would focus my drive somehow. Not so much. I'm tired. I'm ginormous. The Nesting Urge left me bereft today. And after all of the weird calisthenics of Tuesday, Ms. Thang is now strangely quiet. My womb itself is still. I'd had meager but real hopes for an early arrival. Now I'm just big and exhausted and endlessly fucking pregnant.

At least I don't have stretch marks. And my bag is mostly packed. And I have 1 week worth of meals in the freezer now. Again, absent the urge to cook or clean or alphabetize I felt compelled to stock up on the healthiest prepared Trader Joe's fare I could find. Which isn't so bad, really.