Like a hesitant child, I dangle my feet in midair off the side of the hospital bed and feel slightly out of my depth. I’m not a child though; I’m 42 weeks pregnant and in keeping with my decision to go with the flow, am at the hospital for my first session of daily fetal monitoring.

I slowly take in the whir of unfamiliar bleeps, pulses and machinery and hope that I’m doing the right thing. I hope when they hook me up their not going to detect something is awry with baby, who thus far appears good as gold, just a bit too comfortable in her uterine home. I hope that maybe I’ll give birth tonight and this henceforth daily process will be restricted to today.

The midwife approaches and straps me up to two sensors; one records the little lady’s heartbeat, one records my uterine activity. I hope you’re okay with this little lady….and hmmm, I wonder if it might pick up the increased cramping and Braxton Hicks-like tightening I’ve been getting?

I try to read my book but find my eyes keep straying to the monitor, which is printing out my “trace.” When I think trace I think CSI. Man, my mind is all over the shop. Continue at Bump2Basics...