You know how it is to drive down a long country road with directions that say, "Go on for several miles until you see the gray barn opposite the gas station," and somehow that gray barn seems like it's never going to materialize? Yet when you drive back home the trip back to the freeway only takes a few minutes.
Or how long it is from when you have the last touches ready for company and the company hasn't shown up yet and every time the phone rings you're convinced it will be them saying they can't make it after all? (When you're not ready, of course, they show up ten minutes early.)
I'm starting to feel like a freak of nature. (Not in appearance, necessarily. Even yet no one jumps to suggest I am having twins.) Every time someone sees me it's the same routine: "You haven't had those babies yet?" (What WAS your first clue?) "I've never heard of anyone going that long with twins!" Perhaps I should charge admission: "Step right up to see QOC and her uterus of steel!"
That and I get a lot of sympathy as to how miserable I must be. When in fact, I feel better than I have the entire pregnancy. Whether it's pre-labor hormones, better weather, or a more consistent exercise routine, I've had more energy the past few weeks than since last October. Plus I think I'm getting used to balancing. The only thing that is really uncomfortable is the occasional nerve-pinching in the legs, which is making those helpful long, brisk walks nearly impossible.
No doubt I really am uncomfortable, but I've rather gotten used to it. I'm sure I'll fully realize it later, like the peasant taking his livestock back out of his hut.
While we are waiting, Wondergirl has started on repainting the living room and we are making food for the Fourth of July. We are not planning on going anywhere. My mother stayed home from Fourth of July festivities the year my sister was due, and she wasn't born until the 13th. We did have a calf born that day, whom we named Uncle Sam, and then renamed Aunt Samantha when we were able to get close enough for a thorough inspection.
I have every classic sign of labor being imminent, but things just haven't started yet.