“Waiting for a baby to be born is like picking someone up from the airport but you don’t know who they are or what time their flight comes in.”

If I am being completely honest, I breezed through the first 6 to 7 ish months of pregnancy. I had zero morning sickness and all my cravings were fruits and vegetables.  At my local vegetable shop called Impala, the tellers call my son Mr Impala. I practically lived there. To most people I just looked like I had put on a few pounds. Boys still winked at me at red lights in traffic because they couldn’t tell I was pregnant :D. I could still comfortably run 5km or so.

I’m glad I enjoyed it while it lasted because at the end of Month 7 the true effects of pregancy really made an appearance. I was pregnant everywhere! My belly was pregnant. My hips were pregant. My butt was pregnant. My face was pregnant. My bladder was pregnant. My walk was pregnant. Girl! Even my nose was pregnant. It had that makeup-repellant-vaseline shine.

As you can imagine, by the time the end of the 10th month rolled around (pregnancy is technically 10 months you guys and the last 2 months feel like a year) I was so ready to pop! Sooo ready.

My bags had been packed and loaded into my boot a whole month before. My doctor initially put my EDD at 9 January 2018. I knew he was wrong, scan or no scan. In May I told him my baby would arrive on the 19th or the 20th of December. I even counted with him. On a manual count I was right but his scan said otherwise so he went with trusting technology. Trust technology my foot! Doctors are human people! (This is a whole other very important conversation we need to have) By the beginning on December we both knew I had been right all along.

He was very keen on a c-section (elective c-sections are an option here) and booked mine for the 27th of December 2017. I was very open to natural birth and was not-so-secretly hoping I would go into labour before the c-section date.

My intention was to stop going to the office and start working from home on the 16th of December. My body wasn’t having it. Around the 11th of December climbing up the stairs at work was like a wrestling match. My pelvis had loosened in preparation for childbirth and literally felt like it was clicking below a heavy load. It felt like all my organs were gently but persistently pressing down. Rather like gravity was working a little harder inside my body. If you think that’s not a huge issue think bladder and sphincter control ;). I had no bladder control to speak of.  I was always waddling to the nearest toilet. I think I knew where every toilet within a 5km radius of me could be found at all times. Did you Know you can ask Baby City staff to use the toilet?

Around the same time my nesting instinct kicked into high gear. I had the permanent urge to clean up, organise and reorganise every little cupboard and space in the house. I drove my husband crazy because all he wanted was for me to sit down and rest. I washed all of the baby’s clothes. I wiped down his cot. I peed. I ironed. I peed. I folded. I peed. I dusted. I peed. I wiped. I peed. I mopped. I peed. I vaccumed. I peed. I just couldn’t stop.

As going into labour became more and more of a realistic possibility I began to face all sorts of realistic and unrealistic fears…How will I know it’s time? I didn’t want to be the panicky newmum who shows up at the hospital with multiple false alarms. How would I know if I was having contractions or if it was just Braxton Hicks? I didn’t experience braxton hicks at all by the way. Would my vagina be demolished by the exit of a baby? Would I still be able to enjoy coitus? Would I even be able to manage childbirth? Was I truly ok with having a c-section? Would I be left with a little baby boep I could never work off if I had a c-section? What if I didn’t heal well? What if I was in too much pain to do much after the c-section? (that last one turned out to be prophetic).

By the 14th of December I knew that d-day was imminent. The pressure on my pelvis was painful. As I explained it to the doctor on that day, it really felt like the baby was trying to push his way out. My doctor was painfully easy going and he just said, it’s ok. He’s supposed to. He confused me by saying he wasn’t worried and then moving my c-section date up to the 22nd of December. (Do you see me missing multiple red flags in respect of my doctor?)  My instincts were telling me it was time but inexperience, trusting the doctor and naivette kept me from freaking out. I didn’t fully understand that my body was yelling “battle stations! it’s time!”

I am at the airport waiting for a meeting and the good folks I was waiting for are ready for me so I have to dash. To be continued….