Hurry Up, Kid

Baby update: still not born. I’m not even in the hospital yet. On Sunday, I was having these crazy contractions and I was super sure we’d have to interrupt laundry day to go to the hospital. But no. I timed them, and they were irregular. Just Braxton Hicks. Coincidentally, I’m reading The Eyre Affair right now, and there is a character named Braxton Hicks in it. I kept waiting for there to be more of a joke to his name, actually.

I am on track, at least. I don’t think I’m going to go ridiculously past my due date, and I still have this sort of early feeling. But that might just be that I’ve gotten used to expecting to be early. Who knows. There’s a thunderstorm warning out today, which of course puts me in mind of how my first baby was born. Without warning! During a storm! Because of the storm!

He still is a storm, my goodness.

I’ve slowed down a lot. Tonnes of arthritis flare-ups and one of my knees is twice the size it ought to be whether I’m flaring or not. Jackson has dropped fairly low, so my belly is lower and crazy unwieldy. I drop things all the time. Klutziness abounds. Sometimes I can’t even read because I either cannot get comfortable, or because I pass out due to fatigue. Nothing so bad as when I was pregnant with Owen and I couldn’t get through Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. That remains my record for times fallen asleep reading.

Hospital bag is packed, Owen still needs an overnight bag, and I should really get through all of my library books…

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