Welcome to week #42. My pregnancy will be officially considered post term as of tomorrow, which is why I am booked in for the ‘Post Dates Clinic’. And I am getting very tense about it. Only reading about the tests they usually run makes me feel sick and scared stiff. To add insult to injury, the online pregnancy calendar I have been following sends me congratulations on my newborn baby.
don’t know what is more unnerving – the fact that little L has missed her due date and that every passing day brings me closer to the whole drip-epidural-induction-nightmare; or people that keep on calling, texting and commenting on the fact that my belly is still occupied territory.
When my big brother recently mentioned one of the songs we loved to listen to and sing along to as children, I thought he was going to get me in the mood for some good old sentimental dwelling on the past. I should have known better…
Last night – just as almost every night since little L started visibly moving in my belly – I was taking turns with Big M in tickling her right foot and rubbing her tiny back through my skin…
What is it with the NHS and midwife shortage in this country? How come they abandon you when you could need a little advice and hold you in their tight grip when you just want some peace and quiet?
When I think of legendary, this particular time I had with A in London springs into my mind. Nights that started somewhere in Sketch, Aura or Pangea and ended with a trip to Maroush. The tahini sauce trail on your dress as a reminder where you have been the night before. Walking home in a mild summer night. And […]
Yay! We are full-term plus a few days now and little L has the official permission to arrive. Anytime from now she will make her… erm… glamorous entrance into this world.
Love was in the air and everybody noticed. Except for Prince Intricate, who played a little hard to get.
My big brother and his girlfriend came to visit over the weekend. We have been extremely close as children, but drifted apart as we grew older.
The first time it hit me, I was walking down Islington’s Upper Street,
struggling under the weight of too many shopping bags, mobile phone in one hand, clutching files in the other.