(no subject)
It was, according to her calendar, the day that her pregnancy would have been done, had she listened to the variety of books she had amassed. Forty weeks had passed (and some days in addition) and there she stood, Lydia kicking at the ready, but hardly in her arms as a newborn; she was yet still inside. Jane was beginning to become quite worried.
If nothing else, she had begun to read about the gestations of other animals and had begun to wonder if perchance there was something wrong with her, specifically.
She knew she did worry, but it was hard to help when she did discover the other women of the Island did have a tendency to birth early. Perhaps Jane was simply not of the pattern.
Even so, though Jane did never like to complain, she was about ready to let loose a foul word regarding her condition. She did visit the washroom so very regularly and her back ached with the weight of her front (for she did never think she would gain such a girth to be spoke of between her belly and her breasts). Her feet swelled, as did her fingers, and Lydia kicked, kicked, and kicked some more, as though demanding exit.
Once Jane had completed her hair, she resolved to walk to the Compound. A simple walk that perhaps might aid (or trigger) something. And if nothing else, she might find a medical Doctor who could explain how very much longer it would be.
[Feel free to find her anywhere from her home to the Compound. She is 40 weeks and she is not going to go into labour on you]
If nothing else, she had begun to read about the gestations of other animals and had begun to wonder if perchance there was something wrong with her, specifically.
She knew she did worry, but it was hard to help when she did discover the other women of the Island did have a tendency to birth early. Perhaps Jane was simply not of the pattern.
Even so, though Jane did never like to complain, she was about ready to let loose a foul word regarding her condition. She did visit the washroom so very regularly and her back ached with the weight of her front (for she did never think she would gain such a girth to be spoke of between her belly and her breasts). Her feet swelled, as did her fingers, and Lydia kicked, kicked, and kicked some more, as though demanding exit.
Once Jane had completed her hair, she resolved to walk to the Compound. A simple walk that perhaps might aid (or trigger) something. And if nothing else, she might find a medical Doctor who could explain how very much longer it would be.
[Feel free to find her anywhere from her home to the Compound. She is 40 weeks and she is not going to go into labour on you]