(Quick aside about the Wifey Zone--Kyle and I were in the Chicago airport once and passed under an enormous sign that said "YOU ARE NOW ENTERING THE WIFI ZONE." As we had just been married about a month prior to this trip, terms like "wife" and "husband" were still pretty novel to us, thereby allowing us to titter like schoolchildren whenever the opportunity arose to use them. I think we may have been in the midst of some awful 6-hour layover or had just been rudely harassed by security or something equally mood-dampening when Kyle noticed the sign, looked at me and said "Hey--we're entering the Wifey zone. They give you your own whole wing in this airport!" It doesn't sound all that funny now, but at the time it was impressive enough to completely turn our mood around. Now of course, whenever I do something that I deem to be domestically impressive, I have been known to do a little ninja kick and shout "Coming 'atcha from the Wifey Zonnnnne!" Because I am mature.)
So. Here I sit in the official Wifey Zone. I am wearing an outfit comprised entirely of stretchy cotton-lycra blend and a bathrobe. And it's MONDAY! At 9am! This is so awesome. Later I am going to sew some curtains and perhaps wash some baby clothes, but maybe not. I can do it whenever I want because I have all day! I know this little stream of things I could or could not do must be boring to most of you reading this, so I apologize for that, but the novelty of the situation is still just overwhelmingly exciting for me. Happy happy.
I don't really have anything exciting to tell you about baby stuff. Clearly, I am still very pregnant. I have started having teensy little contractions here and there, I think, although I'm still unclear as to when a cramp stops being a cramp and starts being a contraction. I hear that you "just know," so I guess I might have to continue calling them cramps for now. The Whiz has now grown to a size that significantly limits movement. I still feel the little wiggles here and there, but all of the rolling back and forth of the preceding weeks has pretty much stopped. There just isn't enough room for that, although yesterday I got three enormous kicks to the ribs right in a row, and by enormous I mean that my entire upper body was actually thrown a little to the left with each kick (okay Reinhards, this kid might be a soccer player).
I'm not dilated at all as of last Wednesday and I seriously doubt Dr. G will check again this week, but I have seen some minor evidence of cervical activity, I guess you could say. Something must be happening, right? I mean, no one stays pregnant forever...although that would significantly extend my stay in the wifey zone...heh.