So you might have guessed by now that the countdown is well and truly on with just a few days left until that all important due date, which usually bears no resemblance at all to the date one will actually give birth, but a date that nonetheless us expectant mothers cling to desperately in the hope that baby will arrive shortly before or on this magical date.
Well at the time of writing this, my due date is 2 weeks away – still.
2 weeks!
That’s 14 days,
336 hours
20,160 minutes
1,209,600 seconds
Not that I am counting or anything . . . . .
It feels like every time I tick a day off on my calendar another one gets added at the other end.
Am I going to be pregnant forever?
I suppose because this is my 2nd pregnancy I feel like I am more in tune with every little niggle, every ache and every movement- no matter how slight, that may signal the beginning of labour.
Each night I go to bed wondering if tonight will be the night.
Husb seems to have suddenly galvanised himself into action. He has gone from 0-60 in no time at all.
Here was I, bag packed at 35 weeks, baby clothes washed and organised and in the bag ready to wear. Birth preferences in place. The Bears little overnight bag packed and ready for his little sleepover when mummy goes into hospital.
Everything sorted except for husbs bag – well he is a grown man he can surely pack his own grundys can’t he?
Well it would seem not – that is, until 2 days ago when suddenly it was like something clicked inside his head and he realised that actually we were going to be having a baby in the pretty imminent future. (It appears to have only taken him 9 months to come to that conclusion).
So while I was catching up on my ‘Home and Aways’ I watched on as husb scurried around the house, randomly packing things here and there in an effort to be ‘ready’.
He does not appear to travel light and somehow the little overnight bag that I have packed for the Bear seems to have morphed into a huge big red box of ‘stuff’ there is that much stuffed into the box I honestly couldn’t begin to tell you what he has got in there. I daren’t look.
Husb bloody loves that box!
I mean I tried to tell him that perhaps he didn’t need to pack the Bears actual bed in there but he won’t be told – men!
It is weird because prior to husb ‘organising’ to get us ready I was pretty calm about the whole thing, what will be will be I thought. I had my list of last-minute things to put into my bag and I was ready. However, since husb started getting involved with the organisation I have become more and more stressed out about the whole thing. Every time I go to bed I feel under pressure to wake up having popped out a baby.
It doesn’t help that in addition to packing and unpacking and packing again like a maniac he keeps insisting on letting me know what the plan is for that particular night, who’s on call that night, only for it all to change the next day as he unpacks the unused bag from the night before and re-asseses the plan (again).
Husbs efforts to make things easy and get us prepared have simply served to stress me out and make me feel properly out of control. Which to be fair I really could do without right now.
I reckon if I go overdue it is due to husb stressing me with his organisational efforts.
Anyway now that is off my chest I will go back to monitoring every single twinge until the time comes.
Don’t mind me . . . .
