It has been a long week (when are they ever short at the moment?) of stomach upsets and cancelled medical appointments, not to mention the soul lifting social ones also. Every night has been tearful, pretty certain that's owing to a miserable attitude on my part and not so much hormones as general discontent. I'm not sure I'll ever think to myself "cheer up love!" again when looking at a heavily pregnant woman. It is pretty grim. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure with all running smoothly for mother and baby that 37 weeks would be a nice time for gentle exercise and a little one on one time with yourself but when your own physical being is declining at a rate of knots it is hard to keep the end goal in sight. I won't lie, last night I considered if it was possible to bunk myself off but keep the baby going! Not my proudest moment (and if I'm totally honest not the first time I've thought it in the last few weeks). Because really, and this is my own personal preferences speaking, what is life without movement and independence? If you're the one who "does it all", for the family and ones self what happens when you can't do any of it? Well this is what happens. Relying on other people for the majority of life. My mum has been the saintly helper that she has always been amazing at. My dad so practical, I know I can just call and he can whizz me out in the car to wherever needed. The guilt of not being able to walk my dog has been eased by mum walking him when she can. His face is the perfect picture when he settles down in the evening, it has been seriously lacking for a few months *the full on shame!
Oh well, another week more pregnant on Monday, bring it!