Riding high on hope

We've graduated to weekly appointments now, and have the lucky privilege of internal exams at every visit. Last week, I was told I was 50% effaced and 2 cm dilated, which, apart from sounding disturbing to a lay person (my mom almost fainted when she heard the word "effaced"), also sounded really promising to me, so when I exhuberantly cried "What does that mean?!" and the OB cold-bloodedly answered "Nothing," I was pretty incredulous... Surely, I'd be in labor any second now?

But I ain't.

What I IS, though, is edematous, at least 1+, especially at the ankles. I look at them and I'm like, hey, didn't the medial malleolus (little bone) used to reside here?

Also, I is a giant internal lava lamp. At least, that's how it feels. It's getting more and more science fictiony by the moment: the belly morphs into various shapes, vibrates and hops at random times, and occasionally, sprouts temporary limbs that later resorb back into the fleshy mass. We started as a tinkerbell diving in a pool of golden fluid, moved on to a cranky fetus stretching his feet in an uncomfortable bubble, and now, I obviously have a pent up prisoner in a cell banging a tin cup on the bars asking to get out.

total John Hurt: see the extra limb?

Of course, if he wants to get out, all he has to do is go for it, but he is just lounging around the prison yard for the free food and heat, lazy bum.

I'll just be right here, hurrying up and waiting.