Machinations

Delivery day has come and nearly gone. No baby.

Yet.

There are signs.

Sarah's mild Braxton-Hicks contractions have given way to stronger ones that actually sorta hurt. They happened almost every hour last night. Now they're occurring every half hour, or less.

This afternoon, she went in for her regularly scheduled checkup. The midwife examined her and declared her to be progressing quite well (she used the word "ripe" at one point). Then, so as not to get our hopes up, she cautioned that Sarah still could be a week-and-a-half away from giving birth. She could also deliver sooner. You know as well as we do.

Before we left, the midwife ordered a quick ultrasound to verify that the baby was head-down in Sarah's uterus. The technician quickly found the head. It was indeed pointing down. Then the technician moved the ultrasound wand to check the back. A spine appeared on the black-and-white screen like some large, skeletal ghost. It was elegant and healthy. A sight to behold, Sarah said.

Speaking of sights, a strange thing happened to me tonight. My right foot kept cramping up. These weren't quick lock-ups that disappeared when I curled my toes up. They lasted for a good minute. I had to rub them down. Never had them like that before.

Sympathy cramps?

They got so bad, I found myself groaning and cursing aloud. Then I realized: They weren't half as bad as what my wife would soon endure.

So I put a sock in it and shut up.