Saturday, November 21, 2009
Waiting in the Wilderness
Our little Scout, bless his/her soul, has made it to Leeman Brook Lean-to, just north of Monson in Maine’s Hundred Mile Wilderness … that is, if this pregnancy were a northbound thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail.
What kind of time will our Scout make as he/she treks the Wilderness? Northbounders, who are in excellent hiking shape by this time, are able to speed through the Wilderness in less than a week.
I don’t think Scout will do that. I think Scout will take his/her time. Scout knows his/her mama wants him/her to wait until Thanksgiving is over before summiting the metaphorical “Big K” (Mt. Katahdin), so Scout’s going to take this last bit of trail nice and slow … aren’t you, Scout? Plus, one would be crazy not to take one's time in the Wilderness, as it's one of the wildest, most beautiful sections of the entire Appalachian Trail.
Let’s head south down the trail to find where our intrepid southbound Scout is right now. Oh, look here! There’s Scout at Glassmine Gap, almost to the Georgia state line!
How can Scout possibly slow down at this point? When I was a southbounder, I flew through Georgia in four short days. (Actually, they felt like pretty long days, but I still made good time.)
So. If Scout comes early, that means he/she sped up at the end and reached the terminus early. Which means Scout is a born southbounder. If Scout comes late, it means he/she was dawdling in the Hundred Mile Wilderness, as he/she should—and is a born northbounder.
So, what are you Scout? A personable “nobo” like your dad, or a solitude-loving “sobo” like your mom? Or a flip-flopper mix of us both? Only time will tell.
Of course, if Scout takes a long time to go these last few miles, it could well be because his/her legs are not even a foot long. Plus, the poor thing is upside-down.
This week, Scout will continue to gain weight as he/she plans his/her big entrance, or big exit, however you want to see it.
Meanwhile, I’m waddling all over the place, wincing when Scout kicks too hard, and giggling when Scout gets his/her nightly bout of hiccups. I’ve felt contraction-like sensations that I believe are Braxton Hicks contractions (“false labor”). And I’m tired. Pretty much a typical existence for a woman who is 38 weeks pregnant and working too many hours at the office. (Don't worry. Maternity leave starts after Thanksgiving.)
Still, I’m trying to stay active. In fact, I’m getting ready to walk my second mile of the day. Downhill. Meaning lots of pelvic pressure with every step. Why I torture myself like this, I don’t know.