If I was to tell you that I'm not bricking it a little bit that I have a week until the baby can reasonably be expected to drop anytime, I'd be lying.
I am starting to lose my resolve a little and I've even started having bad dreams related to going into labour and everyone around me, not loved ones but actual medical professionals, acting confused and panicked like that don't know what to do with me.
I think it's an expression of my trust issues where I assume everyone is incompetent unless they prove themselves to be otherwise.
Waking up from a bad dream makes me very anxious to feel her moving which of course she refused to do.
Plus I need to get more organised and do what I know I'm supposed to... like packing a hospital bag, finishing the nursery and at least having some idea of how the breast pump actually works.
I showed my dad my nursery yesterday and he actually looked disappointed!
"Where is the mobile?" "Ummmm I'm making my own and that pile of crap on the floor is it so far."
"I thought you were putting things on the walls" "Errrr yeah, I've drawn them out but need to paint them"
"Do you like the going home outfit we've picked?" "How big do you think she'll be?!"
I showed him the lampshade that I bought that I LOVE and he asked how I'm going to manage cleaning it because it's very textural.
He's not normally such a pain in the arse! I won't make an "ungrateful" comment about how my bedroom was decorated as a child, but I felt like having a teenage tantrum at him! Unfortunately his attitude is pretty typical of everyone though.
I don't understand why, but new parents to be seem to be the target of preference for anyone who already has children. They like to point out all your short comings and crush any hint of optimism and naivety.
Maybe it's because they are insecure of their own parental failings so they cope by imprinting the same failings on any parents to be. Of course the wrongs they committed are totally unavoidable and it's not that they were just not as good at the parent thing.
My dad is a wonderful dad. His decorating, however, was always half finished. See the connection with him giving me grief over my nursery?
Other people are the exact same and the big belly is an open invitation to gauge my thoughts on being a parents and them proceeding to put me down.
I tell them I'm breastfeeding with a smile on my face, which obviously provokes them into telling me how hard it is and how sore I'll get and how formula isn't as bad as they say it is.
I tell them what little projects I have to finish once the baby arrives and they start on about how I won't even have time to sleep, shit and shower nevermind doing any bloody projects!
I tell them I'll be using cloth nappies and I get all the tales about shit up the walls, shit up their backs, shit down their legs, exploding shits, liquid shits, green shits. Oh and how much laundry there already is and all those cloth nappies will just be too much to handle. They've never actually used cloth nappies of course.
All I learn from such conversations is where they feel that they completely fucked up or could be perceived as not having done good enough. It's really all about them. They pre-emptively attack before being attacked and we can't even defend ourselves because we don't have any experience to back it up with.
Stuff them. I'm going to be the most well rested, breastfeeding, landfill reducing mofo they've ever seen! And I will get the sodding nusery done too!
So ner.
What else this week... Oh rib pain. I'm willing her to drop because she is so far up in my chest still that it's getting very uncomfortable. I can't do hills without losing my breath quickly and I can practically see her bum cheeks when she tries to push herself outwards to create more space.
She is definitely running out of space in there.
Weight wise, another 2lbs this week to bring me up to a total of 30lbs to date. I know I'm overheating a bit too much of the bad stuff. I've been told that I'm all baby and the rest of me looks the same but I know better.
Well, bedtime. Have a nice Xmas everyone xx
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