I really thought we’d be in business by now. I mean, at 3.30am today, I was unpacking the tens machine, because I was (finally) getting contractions that hurt, after two days of stop and start. I took paracetamol, slept a little more, and woke up still in a fair amount of pain at 6am. Daisy heard me, so we got up and had breakfast… and it all stopped. Petered out. I was convinced this was really it, this time, at 6.30am – convinced enough to (again) to keep Kevin off work, and send Daisy with my Mum. And the minute we were committed to that, I didn’t get another twinge all day.
I’ve been blogging this little drama in draft, because of how the constant threat of giving birth just gets everyone over excited, but frankly, I’m considering posting the lot, now. As far as I can tell, we’re already on the grapevine, so you might as well get the tale from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.
I’m pretty much hibernating at the moment. I’m not answering the phone (though Kevin is) because I don’t want to be asked. It’s too hard, too frustrating, and too disappointing, and anyway, I like to keep to a strict limit the number of people I’m prepared to burst into tears in front of. And I’m a lot too close to bursting into tears, at the moment.