Another girl from antenatal classes had her baby this morning; but infuriatingly I can’t remember her due date. Am sure mine is going to be ages and agggeeeesss away (it could still be almost 3 weeks before they do a formal induction), but my hair was slightly flat this morning which felt at one point like it might be A Sign.
This afternoon I went with my mother and the toddler to the local National Trust property; the weather has been gorgeous today but the joy of wandering around open parkland was somewhat compromised by being just totally Full in All Departments with the result that I really would have liked to have just been reclining at home within 5 steps of a loo rather than pottering around at zero speed (toddler not known for his vitesse, analysing as he does leaves, grass stalks, fences etc (‘wow’!)). Made a point of carrying the buggy up 42 steps at one point while mother helped with the toddler (me: ‘I’m not an invalid’) but then surreptitiously had a rest and caught my breath at the top, hoping I wouldn’t faint/pull my pelvis out of sync/break my waters. Thankfully we now have a few days break while mother goes home, instead of staying in the village, so I can go into labour without fear of being witnessed by her. God knows what my paranoia is about demonstrating frailty in front of my mother, but that’s another issue.
I’m now at last trying to slow down a bit, and yesterday walked into the neighbouring village (about a 3 mile round trip) to order The Carpet for the bedroom (we have both now got bored with trying to agree, with the result that BF has ended up preferring my original first choice – as the alternatives I was choosing were seemingly worse), and had a nice coffee and muffin and read of my book while I was there. It felt very civilized and I thoroughly enjoyed not being part of the posse of mothers at the back of the coffee shop with their caterwauling infants. I’ll be there before I know it, so it’s just nice enjoying the calm before the storm.
BF is unfortunately a bit under the weather at the mo which means that I, who feel that now I SHOULD be being looked after, am just mucking along by myself feeling a bit disconsolate and still a bit grumpy (which BF is failing to notice). The Bump is now huge, and I get burning sensations towards the top of it depending on how I sit which I think is just stretching of skin or tissue or something similarly fundamental but at the same time trivial (if that’s not oxymoronic?). This whole business, though, is put into context by the IVF disappointment of a very good friend, which is an experience one wouldn’t wish on anyone.
And on that note I shall count my blessings and shuffle off to make and scoff some more pancakes. These made with Felicity Cloake’s best-of-the-best recipe. She is marvellous.