Hey little one… I’m not sure there’s any space for you to grow any bigger.
My belly is tight like a drum and someone is playing that drum day and night from the inside, with gusto. I get feet in my ribs and my belly button looks like it could just pop right off – in fact I’m pretty sure this baby is also starting to feel like it’s stuck in rather neat quarters. But I make sure to give him, or her, reassuring rubs and to say that there is no hurry, stay cosy – because at this stage I am quite aware that things could really get moving any time and I just haven’t quite wrapped my head around that yet. Meanwhile the nesting instinct is in full force… for the husband. He makes multiple journeys to the tip each week and I am certain that in months to come many of my prized possessions will be at the bottom of a landfill or winging their way to African children via the charity clothing bin at the end of our street. But, I will admit, our home is looking, well, ‘homely’ and there’s a nursery corner ready and waiting and the four drawers I thought would never be full seem already to be stuffed full of nappies and sterilisers and teeny tiny bodysuits and creams and sheets. The route to the hospital is well practiced and birthing plan thoughts swirl around my head from the moment I wake up, usually at 5.30am – for the record, the plan is no plan because then for sure things can’t ‘not go to plan’ but that does not stop you from considering every eventuality and wondering just how this journey is going to conclude. And the names have been chosen, one for each flavour, and I try to picture our baby in my mind, in my arms, and I wonder what will it look like and I just don’t know – to grow a whole other person inside you for eight months and never have met them is just so surreal. But soon, soon we will meet you and I hope you will love us like we love you already.