Almost 39 weeks…

by | Apr 10, 2012 | Little Woes, PREGNANCY, BIRTH & BREASTFEEDING | 10 comments

…has anyone told the baby?

38 weeks
Spend these last weeks and days connecting with your baby. It is a precious time. Write in your journal and rest. Enjoy it.

Annnnnnnnd, no. That's not happening.

I love the idea of it. And perhaps during my first pregnancy, I even did it. 

But the truth is, this time around, the third time, I am not enjoying the home stretch.

I am anxious to go into spontaneous labour – D-Day aka my due date sees two possibilities: if baby's head has come down far enough, my waters will be broken and I have a decent chance of going into labour. If baby's head is still quite high, it's time to open up the sunroof once more to get this baby out.

I am sick of monitoring my blood sugar. Not because of the needle pricks and the insulin injecting – that's become 'everyday' now. No, I am just tired of not eating what I want, when I want. I am in a bingey state of mind and it just burns my arse that I can't drown my woes in chocolate mousse.

I am stupid tired. I mean, bone-shatteringly wasted. I am running on the emptiest of empties and it makes me fear for baby's arrival. How will I cope when I feel I have literally zero in the tank?

I have moved past excitement-fueled anticipation and fallen deep into a kind of apathy. I feel achy and tired but not necessarily pregnant. Of course, baby kicks constantly and my belly is a factor in most things I do but I don't feel tuned into this little life anymore – every day she feels less real. I stand in her nursery which is mostly ready (apart from some more designy things I want to do) and I can't imagine, simply can not remotely picture, having a baby in there.

Every day that passes brings her closer and yet the reality seems to be slipping away. I feel I don't understand this pregnancy anymore. I thought I knew how this would go.

I thought she understood how I wanted it to go.

Haha. Nice try, Mumma. I think I should get used to my daughter not toeing the line.

And naturally, my current state of mind makes me fearful that I am slipping into the clutches of a depression.

And that terrifies me.

After all the joy and anticipation, to welcome my daughter into the world shrouded by a fog of sadness just makes me want to weep.

Which I have done once or twice these last few days…..

I'm not going to mention the myriad worries I have about the labour. Not even going there.

I am tired and losing faith.

This is not me.

Oh baby, won't you come now and save us all?


Hello friends


I’m Angie!  I mum. I write. I wife. My husband would say this is the correct order.  He’s so neeeedy. I live with my family in Melbourne, Australia, where I complain about the weather for 90% of the year – but I can’t imagine living anywhere else. Except maybe in Lake Como, waving to my neighbours George and Amal each morning.

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  1. melbo

    I know how this feels. I know … it is a bad place to be. I just couldn’t fathom why my body did not seem to know what to do. It really mucks with your state of mind.

    I hope tomorrow or Thursday. April 12 is a nice day. Just ask Noddy. xx

  2. Angie @ The Little Mumma

    Yes! Why body, why?

    I think my feelings are magnified by the fact that Zig was early. Why? And what’s the story this time?

    I have had waaaay too much thinking music. I just need a baby, dammit!

    Would love to share a birthday with Noddy!

  3. julie firkin

    Hang in there Love. She’s not ready yet. She’s comfy where she is right now. No great help, I know. Maybe send her some positive and calming thoughts. Let her know that you’re ready to be her Mumma when she’s ready to join you. Big hugs for you both xx

  4. Bilby

    Oh Angie, I have been ‘willing’ this to happen each and every day but haven’t wanted to say too much about the fact that I am ‘willing’ it to happen and it not happening – you get my drift, right?! (From one pregnant woman to another, you follow my trippy thought patterns, correct?!)

    I can hear so many different emotions in this blog, I really can, and so many of them speak to me for one reason or another. I can hear your tiredness but I suspect you have strength well beyond what you have any knowledge of right now. All Mumma’s do. You will rise to whatever challenge awaits you, and there will be many, many, MANY of us behind you all the way. No matter what happens, Bren, Luca, Ziggy and the little lady herself will all love you beyond measure – and so will the rest of us. Take care my friend!!! xxx

  5. Bilby

    P.S. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Chocolate Mousse. Amen.

    (Dammit, you FILL yourself to the brim with the good stuff as soon as you can, y’hear?)

  6. Ladybird


    Ok, so maybe that didn’t help you. And maybe its a cavalier response to a serious post. But maybe, just maybe – you smiled.

    Worth it.


  7. MJ

    I think of you everyday, and hope that things will swing the way you need them to… very soon. The home stretch is such a torturous one – alone with the sweepy kind too 😉


  8. Victoria KP

    Yeah… that “enjoy the time” blah blah blah only holds true for the first one. I carried my first for a little over 41 weeks before the doctor determined he was gigantic and was never going to come out on his own. And honestly, it wasn’t that bad.

    If that had been the same with my second, I’m sure I’d have gone on a murderous rampage.

    Good luck Sweetie. Sending swift labor vibes your way!

  9. Dani

    beautiful collection of picks above. Hand in there…not long to go now…you can do it…and then life will seem blissful. Goodluck.

  10. Tina

    I can hear the sheer frustration in your words and am sending lots of prayers to the Higher Power. I know you will let all this go when you are holding your beautiful little girl. Also you have been cut off from your electronic lifeline – enough to drive anyone nuts. Just ask Luca when you are on the phone and he wants to play his game!


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