The day before D Day.

Tomorrow is my due date. Our new flat mate is not here yet, we are ready. We're feeling fine. It's calm and sleepy most of the time. Sometimes I'm bored out of my tits and don't know what to do with myself. Sometimes my hormones go crazy but I recognize them and let them go.

Today I learned two things.

First- when you're pregnant don't tell anyone your due date. Let the kid bake in peace. There's nothing more frustrating and nothing more convincing for your baby to stay inside even longer then constant text messages, phone calls and questions. He'll come when he'll come. There is noone who wants him out more then his parents. Really.

Second- move your ass outside and walk. Put the music on your ears, buy yourself a coffee and go. Life is amazing, fresh air is amazing. Note to self: once the kid is out go for a walk every day, even if for couple of minutes. For your own sanity. Note to self 2: if your 39 weeks and 7 days pregnant be careful with going up the hills. It's far worse to get down then you think.

 

*

Oh hello, I'm still here and the boy is still trying to figure out the exit.

We woke up an hour ago( I had dreams of giving birth on the train, breastfeeding with blood and being unable to hold his neck properly- am I anxious first time mother? Go figure), I felt Zs( my other half) playing with my hair and putting fingers in my ears and picking on me his old usual way( yes, he's almost 30 and about to become a father; this is why it's so exciting) and I felt for a second like I want to stop time and never give a birth and I cried a little bit inside because there will be never again just the two of us, our son will be here any day now. I know it's all great and what we wanted but I'm just scared we will lose each other a little bit. But then I'm sure we won't, or we'll find another way. I guess those are all normal feelings. And I'm learning to aknowledge them and carry on.

And the love kick starts again.

It maybe the last night with myself and only myself for a very long time. As much as I didn't feel comfortable doing it( labour can start any second now, I generally can't sleep alone at nights, it just doesn't seem right to leave me here on the edge alone)- I'm really happy I made this choice. I can listen to me, even if I'm not saying anything. I didn't do much, just watched couple of pictures, listened to few songs, drank 0% beer, baked a cake and broke it in half. After I finish writing it I'll go and paint my nails. Maybe have another beer or a cup of tea. And then I should go to sleep because I have early midwife appoitment tomorrow- nothing I fancy, but my midwife is a nice person and she's Irish and the cake I made is chocolate/guiness cake with white frosting and I'm going to bring her a slice; I think it will make her happy. 

I don't know what kind of things I should write in the last thing I will write while alone for a long time. I'm 24 years and 4 months old. I don't know who I want to be when I grow up, but I'm going to be a mother any minute now. And I need to take it from there. I tend to overthink and overreact and it usually leads to short dramas with quick and happy endings. I make those happy endings in my head as well as the dramas in first place. They don't come from outside very often. I make them. I'm not very good with people, I'm much better alone and maybe I should stop fighting it, maybe I should embrace and accept it. That's how I am. But when I'm into people, I'm into them. They fascinate me and make me jealous, they inspire me and make me laugh. But I hate them as much, when they are grumpy, smelly, coming too close to me, when they scream or are very drunk or when they are plain silly. Just like me every now and then.

I'm not sure I like myself, but I need to fight it too. There will be a small man sleeping across the room very soon and I need to show him to accept but fight for yourself at the same time. I want to show him all the best things in the world. I want him to focus on positive, rather then negative. I want him to laugh out loud and never listen to anyone who will tell him differently. I want him to be healthy and strong and never ashamed of his mother or his father. It all seem surreal when I write it.

I better go and paint my nails. Bye, Gosia. Hey, Gosia.

And this: