38 weeks

Do you know just how bizarre and mildly terrifying it is to write that. 38 weeks. Thirty-eight. Apart from some things going on in the women’s business end of town, there ain’t much to report.

The incubus is using my bladder as a trampoline, a roll now feels like an alien will literally burst through my stomach or at least a little hand appear out through my belly-button. I can’t roll over in bed without waking up to do so – which means if I am completely shattered-tired, which is common, by the time I wake up to do so my body is so lopsided to the side it’s been sleeping on I reckon the kid must be experiencing the equivalent of free-falling.

I’ve had a headache for most of the last week, which has now rendered another cold. So with itchy eyes, runny nose and sore throat I’ve worked out that in this entire pregnancy I’ve had about 8 weeks of not having some form of cold or flu or cough – and the majority of that was at the beginning of the long.hard.incubating.slog.

I haven’t packed my bag and I don’t have any pjs or suitable clothes for my hospital stay. With Felix I packed the bag at 36 weeks so then lived out of the freakin’ bag for the next s.i.x. weeks. I think its part of my subconcious – I am not going to think ‘is this it?’ because it probably isn’t and won’t be until the incubus is lured out with drugs and intervention.

I’ve got six days of work left and let me just say, I am rejoicing that tomorrow is a public holiday, so this week is a four day week. BLISS.

On Tuesday I go back to a new desk on a new floor, for a whole six days. It feels weird and I’ve given my compatriot the good desk as it stands to reason that he should have it rather than the temp who’s filling in for me and only doing so 3 days a week. Still, I somehow know the good desk will never now be mine. Ah, the sacrifices we make when we have kids has just reached a whole new, albeit tenuous, level.

Chef’s parents looked after the boys this afternoon and I went shopping for them for new summer clothes. A big success if Oscar wanting to wear one of the outfits to bed is anything to go by. Then Chef and I went to the movies and saw Serenity. Very funny, very good. And something we probably won’t do again for about a hundred years.

Let the countdown continue.