After the drama of last week's false alarm, I'm feeling a bit deflated. Not literally, obviously. But, I'm getting a little fed up with playing the waiting game. I am considered to be "full term" now at 37 weeks, because having a baby any time between three weeks before the due date and two weeks after that is considered perfectly normal. The medics say that you should spend the final days acting as if it's business as usual. That's easier said than done when my day-to-day life is an utter struggle. Even walking is becoming difficult. My pace has been reduced to geriatric shuffle. Relaxing is an impossibility unless there is someone on standby to pull me up. If I lean back on the sofa to watch TV, my husband has to heave me into a normal sitting position when I need to get up (using maximum force and effort). I hate to even admit to this, but going shopping is not even an enjoyable prospect. For a start, I get stared at by virtually every member of public perusing the malls. The look in their eyes varies from pure sympathy to, "Gosh, how many is she having?" My tummy has got so big that it arrives in the shop about five minutes before the rest of me. I am just one, big immobile lump.
Every single twinge of pain or discomfort is now being interpreted as "the start". I am living in a permanent state of "just in case". My hair is freshly washed and straightened every day - "just in case". Make up is applied first thing, continuously reapplied and left on until bedtime - "just in case". Fake tan regularly smothered on for that "tanned labour legs look" - "just in case". You get my drift. It's like preparing for my wedding day, every day, only to find that it's been postponed at the last minute.
The only time I feel normal is when I'm attending my antenatal classes, surrounded by all of the other bumps. And their owners, of course. We went through the entire process of labour and birth at our last session, from start to finish. There are three stages in total, as if one isn't bad enough. The first stage is when the expectant mum's body starts to prepare itself and gets ready for the birth. Physiological changes, apparently. Not shaving your legs and applying body moisturiser. Then there is the second stage, which is when the baby eventually makes its entrance into the world. I stopped listening when it came to the third stage. I got a bit squeamish and it was something to do with the placenta thingy. Which, by the way, looks like one of the baddies out of Doctor Who. I summarised the whole labour process in my head. First stage, starts off painful and then ends in agony. Second stage, the worst pain imaginable. Third stage, not as painful but totally sick. Mmm. There is also something called a transition stage which takes place just before you start giving birth. Your body gets a huge rush of hormones which can make the mother start behaving very strangely. The teacher said that it's not uncommon for the woman to shout, swear and become very aggressive. At this point my husband looked at me knowingly and made his only contribution to the class by saying, "So no change there then". Oh dear, he's not had an easy nine months either.
