Eep. I appear to have a new due date.
All being well, Thing 2 will be making an appearance via elective Caesarian on Thursday 21st May, five days before her actual due date – and in the same week as G’s birthday.
I’m relieved at the certainty of it. Ever since I decided that I’d rather avoid the impassable watermelon experience of last time, I’ve had to put some work in to fend off the VBAC missionaries. But today I had my ginormous bump prodded by a doctor who commented that Thing 2 has already filled up every inch of my bonsai torso and still has weeks of growth ahead. Her prediction is that this is looking like a bigger baby than the microbe… and given that he wouldn’t come out via the traditional route, it’s reasonable to plan for an alternative exit. (With any luck I might not need to buy shares in Tena Lady after all.)
So – this gives G and me just over 5 weeks of calm before the storm. The good news is that this is my last week of lumbering, puffing work commutes before I slope off into the sunset for a whole year! Thank god for my stash of annual leave – I’m using up several weeks before my maternity leave kicks in – and this shall henceforth be known as “the precious“.
Theoretically, I’ll be able to post the boybot off to nursery every day and loaf about with my inflated feet up. In reality I suspect my brain will just torture me with relentless naggage about all of the domestic things that I need to sort out before the arrival. G is going to be away for the whole of my first week off, so it’ll be just me and the boybot and no lazy lie-ins. But the joy of being able to zonk out for afternoon naps on my own sofa has much appeal.
I’ve been warned unanimously by my fellow mums to expect a shock to the system once Thing 2 arrives. Apparently two microbes are greater than the sum of their parts. Luckily for me I’ve forgotten pretty much everything about babies and what a faff they are. Because they get easier every year, your mind tends to blot out the memory of all of that dreary stuff as soon as you’re able to leave it behind. Hence I have only the vaguest, blurry recollections of those interminable periods of the past… months on end in which the boybot wouldn’t go to sleep unless one of us sat doggedly beside his cot – or when I had to hold him for 24 hours a day – and just generally the whole zero sleep thing.
It’s best to forget, yes?
In baby name news, I swear every time I read a tabloidy article predicting the royal baby name they seem to have added ANOTHER one of our shortlisted names to the list. I hope those buggers have a boy (and call it something other than James).
As for the boybot, I have lots of rambling to do but I shall save that for my next post…