Friday, April 25, 2014

Littlest (week 39)

Sweetheart, it's getting so close to your arrival!
One way or another it's fairly certain you'll be out in the world in the next two weeks. This is a concept I should be au fait with, but I still find myself blinking in wonder.
You're nearly here, Littlest!
I'd like to say that as a result of my excited anticipation I've been a beam of sunshine and joy, but I'm afraid that instead I've waddled around oof-ing, issuing ultimatums, desperately tidying, crying my way through books and movies and generally being hormonal.
A couple of nights ago I was so hopeful that you were on the way - the braxton hicks were reasonably strong and coming at a regular ten minutes apart - but I fell asleep and when I woke up they'd evaporated… And it was such a lovely cool, rainy night, perfect for your arrival! The first truly autumnal night of the year.
I am so glad that autumn has finally arrived, just in time for you. Today was one of those perfect blue-sky autumn days, with the world misted over in the morning, then magically clearing into crisp and bright, all blue skies and lovely autumn-leaf hues.
The nights and mornings are finally chilly and we're all wearing socks and ugg boots and rugging up. Very soon we'll have to get the chimney sweep out and start having big fires again.
I can't help but be a little wistful that if you hadn't turned from breech you would have arrived by now… they most likely would have whisked you out today and you'd be here. I know it's much better you come in your own time and all… but the waiting is very hard!
I am savouring these last days of feeling you move inside me. It is very hard to think that I won't feel the little kick below my ribs again, that I won't be able to cup the little backside and feel the strange wriggles and rolls. Very soon you won't be apart of me - and while I am so so looking forward to seeing you - I am going to miss having you so close. I watch my tummy suddenly stick out in odd bumps, roll and jump and quiver and can't help smiling.
That's you in there, doing your gymnastics!
I am now incredibly slow and large and cumbersome. Rising from bed or a chair is a long business involving many groans and walking is awkward and ache-y. As you are taking up all the space where my lungs should be I become breathless climbing a few stairs and, as you are where my tummy should be, I am wary of all food in case of heartburn.
While I know I should be sleeping and storing energy, I need to stay up far later than I'd choose to avoid heartburn. Too sleepy to be productive, too afraid of heartburn to lie down - I'm reading a lot and watching One Born Every Minute and have just started watching Call the Midwife. I am considering knitting, except my previous attempts have not ended well.
Soon, little one, soon you will be out in the world, and we are so looking forward to meeting you!

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