The past few days have probably been the most challenging of this pregnancy. On Saturday I came down with a cold and spent the next few days in bed. In retrospect I was doing just a little too much nesting and my body didn't like it. So I've been staying in and resting up, keeping warm (it's been oh so icy) and cuddling with Che. The challenge hasn't been at all physical. In fact, I still feel energised and not overly big, although getting out of bed is a sight to behold.
It's the mental journey a woman embarks on as she gets oh so close to birthing that's confronting and challenging. Last night I lay in bed thinking about the fact that I'm about to become a Muma to two. And that Che won't be my only child. There's a sadness embedded deep within the reality, that these next few days will be the last before we start a new beginning. While he is rearing to embrace his new role as big brother, his cuddles, copious 'i love yous' and need to be close to me subtly tells me that he's holding on too - to being the only one.
I suppose we all need to let go of something.
I keep experiencing moments of fear about birthing, looking after a newborn, imminent change. And then they pass and I'm ok again.
This morning I got a pedicure so I have pretty toes to look at while I labour. And then I went and did what was probably my third 'last shop.' And I bought more toilet paper and more tissues and more maternity pads. Because you can't have enough of those.
A packet of 0000 white singlets made their way into the trolley too. They are already in the washing machine. Softening for baby.
I feel like I've got another good week in me. I am definitely not fed-up. Which I'm grateful for.
The house is clean, the washing is done. The grandmas are close to their phones at all times.
And we wait.
Photos by Tim, of course.