It turns out it wasn’t labour! Or at least I don’t think it was/is. I’ve not returned back to normal yet so far as feeling comfortable again; it’s impossibly hard to sleep from tenderness, I’m getting hot sweats all the time despite it being winter conditions outside, and I feel constantly out of breath, winded and heavy. But it could be a whole lot worse! I’m grateful that I’m not in pain, just discomfort and for now I can carry on with everyday life; which goes some way to calm my tedious brain as I tick off my ever-growing list of impossible tasks and demands that I set myself daily. It’s just my way of dealing with things, I wish I could recognise my own achievements by acknowledging the mountains that I force myself to climb, but every time I reach the top instead of taking a break I immediately reset the goalposts and suddenly I’m no longer at the top of my mountain, as another has selfishly just sprung up from its summit. All I seem to do is climb and climb mindlessly.
My tendency for neatness is at an all time high, and as soon as I finish a glass of water I’m washing it up, waiting twenty seconds for it to drain, drying it, putting it back in the cupboard, straightening the other glasses and re-hanging the tea towel before scanning the room for abnormalities. It’s as if being pregnant has brought out the most obsessive side of me, but in a few days time I know I’ll be stood in my kitchen with baby sick all down my top, a mountain of dishes in the washing bowl and cereal all over the floor throwing my head back and laughing. Ahh, the final taste of freedom and I don’t know whether to sit and enjoy it at the expense of my disintegrating time left, or to continue this tiresome dance of entertaining such moronic notions.
And when I look in the mirror now I no longer see an American fridge-freezer, more of an albino yeti. I see this reflection in the mirror staring back at me but I don’t recognise the person who seems so talented and professional at mimicking my every move, if they went on Britain’s Got Talent they would definitely win! Much like Michael Jackson’s ability to dance, this yeti’s performance is absolutely flawless at copying my own moves, how strange. I’m actually smiling as I draw up a mental list of body repairs in my head as I’m writing this, literally no inch of my being will be left unpampered nor unpreened after Gabriele arrives. Looking at this as a glass-half-full kind of situation I’m as trashed as I could possibly be right now so from here on out the only way is up, anything beyond yeti is an improvement. The sun will shine soon enough and give my washed out white skin and dark circles a healthy golden glow, once my beloved bump has migrated then I can focus on changing the floppy kangaroo pouch of a stomach into a washboard for my non-maternity underwear which would be completely unsuitable for parachuting from a plane with, although at the moment my Bridget Jone’s style briefs could safely bring a jumbo jet to land!
I’m so excited to build a new me in the next couple of weeks, because it’s a challenge that I can measure and compare and hopefully use to restore my confidence without the worry of harming our little Gabriele. Since I’ve been pregnant I’m so paranoid of tripping over, eating something, which could cause him an allergic reaction, or doing too much and having another bleed. It will be such a relief to have him in my arms finally and to KNOW that he is absolutely fine and healthy. To be able to sit in the peacefulness of the night watching him softly breathing rather than holding my bump as well as my breath desperate to feel a movement to know he is okay. I can’t wait for the tension to lift and the sleepless nights to begin. Oddly enough the more I am pushed and the less I sleep the higher my ability and determination to succeed becomes. I guess thats called parenthood?
I just need the freedom of my lungs and limbs back in my own possession and then the hard work can finally begin he’s only the other side of my bellybutton and I can feel him wiggling around so close to me, but he seems so very very far away. I know this will be the longest ever two weeks of my life waiting for our due date. I could do with a nice holiday right now on a flawless tropical island and it would guarantee the time would fly by!
Until we meet my little angel, sleep well, Mummy will be with you soon. x x x x