Each day I wake up, refreshed, re-vitalised, re-rejuvenated, like an advert for some super food smoothie, bursting to stretch up high and achieve great things! I even crack a smile sometimes (this morning was one of those rare occasions) and share it with my husband, which must be a quarterly relief for the poor sod, having to contend with my miserable face daily for the last 2 months. Life feels attainable and exciting as we build up to the summer solstice and the longest day of the year: March-June is unavoidably my favourite time of every year. Sap rises, goals are made, all is achievable.
And then I swing my legs over to the side of my current savour, our recently upgraded mattress, and my toes graze the carpeted floor bedside. I look up to see the concrete grey of the singular crutch I keep close to me at all times. It slaps me in the face like a comedic wet fish (because really, is that ever actually funny?) And just like that, the pain catches the biting point, 1st gear is highly revved as I reach for the crutch and plan and wince at the simple art of standing up. If I ignore the tense and frustrated voices in my head (as I can ignore most things during those precious primary 60 minutes of waking up) I can “get shit done.” In the knowledge that said shit will get done very slowly but anything will be an achievement and a gold star start to the day.
Finally, the sorting through of hand-me-down baby clothes has taken place, in one singular gap of time. 0-3 months in one pile, 3-6 in another. The doctors have predicted him to be 11lbs. That’s a whopper hey! Part of me is secretly proud that I’ve manged to grow a human so big. The other (majority share) part of me is terrified: that he will get stuck during his grand exit into this world. A purchase of some basic onesies in various sizes may make good practical sense at this juncture. The planning stages have really wracked up a gear since my maternity finances were confirmed on Thursday of last week. A full on maternity leave, until March of next year, it is more than I ever wished for and the opportunities of bonding are laid out before us, like a twisting, turquoise river galloping rapidly in rhythm towards a golden, sun-tipped mountain in the distance. Delicious!
I made it out to the shops and rapidly spent twenty quid on all sweet treats, not a vegetable or a slow release carb in sight. Then I ate 2 fresh doughnuts and masses of chocolate followed by a family sized packet of crisps, after which I vaguely began to feel normal again. Reading about happy hormones stimulating labour I am trying to release such hormones with the use of binge eating all bad foods.
No wonder he is predicted 11lbs and no wonder I am losing my mind, the lack of nutrition is strong with me!