The other day, I swear to God I thought I was going into labour. I had extremely strong contractions that felt like my bones were breaking. I had to get a grip and control my breathing as I was freaking out a little. My waters hadn’t broken but I was convinced they would soon with the amount of pain I was receiving. Rob kept me calm, as always. Telling me to breathe and relax. I had to keep walking around the room as I discovered lying down on my side just made it worse. Also gravity helps encourage baby to move down the birthing canal.
After two hours and a phone conversation with the midwife we learned that I was NOT going into labour. Not only annoying but frustrating! I know he will come when he’s ready but WHEN! The waiting is the hardest part. Will it be today, will it be tomorrow? Our GP told us the other day that I should expect him two weeks after his estimated due date. TWO WEEKS! That’s FOUR MORE WEEKS! I don’t know if I can go much longer, its dragging. I feel so hopeless.
I suppose at least I have books and my writing to keep me busy. I am doing my best to try to not think about it too much but it’s hard, especially when the little man is kicking away. I keep stroking my bump and trying to encourage him to come out, that it’s nice and warm out here too and he has a warm polar bear snow suit waiting for him. Not working though. He’s stubborn, like his father and I.
Back to my milk and cookies, oh and writing of course.