Last Saturday I was convinced the chicklet was coming. I had a slight show. I had cramps. I had flu-like symptoms. And I had the kind of back pain that required a heat pack constantly and only eased when I sat down. I felt restless and cranky and didn’t quite know where to put myself. I told Mr Chick I thought it might be happening, and we did a little squeeeee, packed our bags and got snacks for the labour and put my sister on standby.
On Sunday – the day before my due date – I had some waters breaking and the hospital asked me to come in and be on a baby monitor for half an hour. When they nicked off to help women actually in labour, I had a serious talk with the chicklet and told him for about the 20th time that ALL the cool people were born in August and there was still time for him to get his act together and be born a Leo. His response was just to try and kick the monitor off and shortly after the doctor and midwife returned, told me they weren’t convinced my waters had broken (I assured them it was NOT wee, but whatever) and sent me home.
Then everything just ground to a halt and there’s been nothing ever since. Obviously we are dealing with a Virgo. A stubborn one who is currently extremely comfy. So since then, we’ve kind of just killed time – finishing the nursery and other housey stuff, buying me some recovery shorts and a belly band (because vanity), organising a TENS machine, having the baby capsule installed in the car, going to the movies (A Most Wanted Man starring the late, great Philip Seymour Hoffman, and it’s excellent, go see it) and trying and failing to buy nursing bras for my ginormous rack. Respect to the rack; its only saviour now is online shopping.
I have also sipped my weight in raspberry leaf tea, eaten two curries, slept in every day and basically given up on ever going into labour. I am like a huge, overripe plum. The pillow fort will continue, despite protests from my lover. I will never again turn over in bed without having to reposition feet on a raised pillow, reposition pillow between knees and reposition hands so they don’t swell. Maybe I’ll just be pregnant forever, looking like I have swallowed a giant egg and thinking twice before I get off the couch.
Nah, the hospital wants to see me on Monday if there’s no movement at the station, so I may have some news for you all this time next week. Or earlier. In the meantime, I will continue reading the avalanche of pregnancy and kid articles Facebook keeps sending me. My faves today include A Pregnancy In 6 Seconds, Before And After Pregnancy Photos and 4 Negotiation Strategies to Use With Your Toddler (yeah, I know we’re a long way off that one, but that hilarious photo suckered me in).