My due date is just over a week away.
What the heck? How did this happen? How did I go from trying to choose between Latin and French for my language option in third form to sitting at home 8.75 months pregnant, about to become a REAL PROPER GROWN UP? Where did the time go?
We don’t have time to get into the passing of the last twenty years right now, so perhaps I should pull back a little and just say – where did the last nine months go? When I first found out I was pregnant, the days passed soooo slowly. Particularly during that difficult morning sickness phase. It seemed to take forever to get to that magical twelve-week mark. Things sped up during the second trimester, and by the time I hit the third the days were passing at an incredible rate.
Suddenly I find myself facing the prospect of going into labour anyminutenow and all my good intentions have gone out the window. I haven’t read the books I bought. I haven’t been doing ‘downstairs’ exercises. Heck, aside from waddling to the letterbox and back I haven’t really been doing any exercise at all. Also, I’ve eaten way too much McDonalds over the last nine months.
Some might say that I’m not ready to be having this baby, and to that I say – I don’t think anyone is ever really ready, right?
I mean, sure, you can prepare all you like, but nothing can actually ready you for the great unknown that is having a new little person in your life twenty-four-seven. So I’ve decided to stop worrying that I haven’t been drinking raspberry leaf tea, that I don’t know how many onesies a newborn needs, and that I haven’t been participating in aquanatal classes. I have a feeling there are going to be more important things to worry about once my son is placed in my arms.
Up until last week. I was quite happy to wait this out for as long as it takes. If our little dude decided he was going to be two weeks late then I was fine with that. I wanted the time to relax after all this renovation stuff. Sure, I’ve been off work for two and a half weeks now, but I’ve been so busy running around doing house stuff and preparing for Baby’s arrival that there hasn’t been much of a chance to stretch out on the couch in front of the telly while stuffing my face with pastries.
So yeah, I have been all ‘dude, stay where you are, that’s totally okay by me, I have some stuff to sort out before you get here’ – but in the last week my attitude has changed a little. I’ve been getting more and more tired, more and more uncomfortable. I am certain I can happily see this through to my due date without any major complaints, but the idea of going up to two weeks over? Well, now that’s starting to sound mighty unenjoyable.
People keep telling me to relax and enjoy this quiet time before he arrives, and I’m attempting to do exactly that. But at the same time I am feeling rather cumbersome and even sitting down to watch the telly while gorging on pastries only seems to lead to me getting sort of beached on the couch and shifting my weight every two minutes as I try to get comfy. Plus, I guess I’m eager to meet this little guy and finally have some little feeties to put these tiny socks on:
In the meantime…
PS: Do make sure you join me on Twitter. I have time on my hands so I’ve been far more tweety than usual.