…has anyone told the baby?
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?