Tuesday: Coffee with a friend and her six week old.
Thursday: Coffee with a friend and her three week old.
Friday: Need to make plans.
A month ago a midwife told me that it was a good idea for pregnant women in general to take it slow. She told me to thank my lucky stars I could leave work six weeks before my due date. “The babies are much healthier and much calmer when they come out. Keep in shape and sleep whenever you can, it’s the best thing you can do,” she told me and because my due date was far away, I believed her and went for swims and dozed off on the sofa whenever my eyes felt the slightest bit like they were about to close.
Yesterday, I climbed the stairs to the attic and then all the way down to the basement, and after this J and I went for a walk – a power walk – and this morning my body feels a little worn out, but I plan to climb the stairs again today. I have reached the point where I no longer care for a relaxed body that doesn’t ache once labour sets in, I just want it to happen. I want a healthy baby more than anything, trust me, but at this point it feels as if it is a little too comfy and if the naps and the relaxation is making it settle even more in there, and it is not supposed to be like that.
After a long weekend with J by my side, I am once again alone with the waiting and the constant trying to read labour into any (expected as well as unexpected) movement or sign from my body. It is unbearable, so I have spent my morning arranging coffee dates throughout the week. I still need something for Friday, but otherwise I am covered and know that if the baby won’t come out this week at least I will.