Shit on my hands

MH

I’ve got probably a week to go until my second-born arrives, and I’m amazed (so far) by how calm I’m feeling. Sure, there is more than the odd occasion when I’m completely struck dumb with terror and overcome with tears (usually during dinner for some reason – nothing to do with M’s cooking) by the prospect of another round of childbirth. I don’t know what’s worse – having no idea what you’re in for, or knowing exactly what’s coming. But overall, I think I’m doing that repress-all-reality pregnant chick thing where you just get on with the daily routine and pretend it’s someone else who’s going to be pushing out this seemingly enormous wriggly urchin.

So what is the daily routine of this lumbering gestator? Well, unlike last time when I combined writing with gloriously relaxed swims, walks, dinners out with hubby, Calmbirth preparation, etc, this time I’ve squeezed in writing and teaching with attending to the (frequently bizarre) needs of a 2-year-old. But I wouldn’t have changed anything – except the impact of the relaxin hormone on one’s pelvic ligaments and the resulting agony of lifting a 15 kilo child on and off her potty. It’s been a great pregnancy (I’m typing this while the foetus makes a concerted effort to crack my lower left rib with his/her bony knee) and here’s hoping for a great birth! I’ll be keeping you posted as I embark on another couple of years of shit on my hands.