Yesterday I was a sobbing mess for most of the day.
Walking is now quite the issue, and turning over in bed is agony (WHY do I feel the need to turn over fifteen times a night?) After a misjudged comment from my Mum (‘well, how are you going to get through the next four weeks?’) I collapsed in a snivelling heap for the morning. You know when the tears start and then you can’t stop it, and then everything anyone says just makes it worse? That.
I need positivity and ‘it’ll be ok’-ness, not the doom laden ‘well, you’ll have to give up work’ comments I have been getting. Working is fine, looking after the mindees is not the hard bit. Breaking up World War III on an hourly basis with the Chums is harder, and they will be back at school next week. There is no point giving up work as the workload won’t decrease by enough to justify not having an income. It’s not rocket science. So stop suggesting it, loved ones, and start just metaphorically patting me on the head and saying ‘there, there’, which is what I actually need from you right now.
We had our scan on Thursday and have learned that a) he’s definitely a boy and more importantly b) my placenta has moved out of the way (hurrah!), so the home birth plans are well and truly green for go. I am 37 weeks as of tomorrow so it really could be any day now. Although the Chums were both 40+10 so realistically he’s likely to stay put for a while longer. He’s very comfortable, even if I’m not. I’ll keep you posted.
|A slightly squished but fairly clear picture of his face…|