Things I did on my due date yesterday:
– Cleaned out the fridge (nesting? Or just trying to convince self that I’M NESTING I’M NESTING, THE BABY IS ON THE WAY!…?)
– Went out for lunch with two women from my antenatal class (with their babies. Very sweet, but not my baby)
– Made two fish pies for the freezer.
– Ate three hot cross buns
– Went out for dinner (we’re using up our meal-out quota for the next, oh, three years) and possibly mistook ‘too much pizza’ for ‘baby is coming’
Things I did not do on my due date:
– Go into labour
– Have a baby
I know that most babies are born after their due date. But I was secretly hoping that the Bean would be born on the day. Not just because I want to meet her and am very much over the waiting (am now quite grumpy- but I believe this is one of the times when grumpiness is not just allowed but practically the law), but because it would have satisfied the geeky side of my personality. I do like to do things in textbook fashion. And given that only 5% of babies are born on their due date, I quite liked the idea of being one of the 5%. Not that there is a prize or anything- apart from the one in my head, which has always counted for something in my world.
In my heart I know that it matters not when the Bean gets here (or indeed how: by caravan, cross the desert like an Arab man, whatever!), but that she gets here safe and sound. I’m just aware that time is pressing on and there are certain dates looming in the Bean’s diary- Daddy starting a new job, Grandpa moving to the other side of the world- which make me want her to born sooner rather than later.
Still, thanks to some excellent counselling from my nearest and dearest, I think (touch wood) I have crossed the threshold from Slightly Mentally Unstable, to Common Garden Fed Up, which is good news.
So all is well, really.