I have a new found respect for stay at home mums and I’m still waiting for my baby to arrive! Slowly but very, very surely I am losing my mind.
Carrying (and at this point not exactly voluntarily!) a heavy 9 month old baby bump round whilst keeping on top of housework is proving quite the challenge, hence the respect. How the hell am I going to do the same with a wriggly, crying, needy baby? Answer: I am not. (Sorry mum.)
I have reached that magical stage where doing any kind of job takes twice as long – especially walking the dog – but (unfairly) also where if I sit down for a couple of minutes to rest my achy body the chances of me ever getting back up are pretty slim. Very much like when a tortoise ends up on its back.
The due date has come and gone and with it my mind has started to turn to mush. This became extremely evident last night whilst watching ‘8 out of 10 cats does countdown’ with the hubby. Without work to keep my brain active I have lost all ability to spell or do basic arithmetic. Mark on the other hand perched next to me quite happy that for once he was winning.
Every time I get an unexpected message from someone I find myself excited for the distraction and then ready to scream when I find its yet another “is he here yet?” message. If I had the full use of my brain I’d think up some incredibly sarcastic replies but somehow I don’t have the energy. It’s lovely to know that people are excited – hell underneath it all I’m the MOST excited – so much so that when he does come I will be screaming it from the rooftops. Not keeping it a secret.
I’ve “done” pregnancy pretty well until this point. But now, swollen, impatient and sore I’m so ready for the end. Even if not knowing when the end is will send me slowly crazy. I can’t wait for my first little cuddle and (here’s hoping) some relief from the end of the road aches. Even if it means surrendering sleep for the next 18+ years.
Come on baby boy, we’re more than ready for you now!