no sense of urgency
For some strange reason, I don't really feel like my due date is as close as it is. Maybe it's because I'm certain Beanie will arrive late. Maybe it's because I feel pretty good (on the most part) and relaxed. Maybe it's denial. Whatever the reason, my brain hasn't quite processed the fact that we will have a newborn in the house next month.
I am definitely happier and healthier than I was at this point with Jack. By 37 weeks, I had Hobbit feet, cankles, and my blood pressure was on the rise. At the moment, I've only had to take off my engagement ring (which is a half size smaller than my wedding band) and my ankles and feet look the same as always. My blood pressure has been exactly the same each midwife visit - which might sound suspicious but she did assure me that her other clients had readings other than 120/70. I feel strangely calm, which I'm certain is down to going off work far earlier this time. My life revolves around alternative therapies (homeopathy, reflexology, aromatherapy massage, and osteopathy) and eating. I'm out with my girly girls tonight for supper, eating a giant burger with Conchita on Friday, then Paul and I are heading out for a date to Restaurant 22 on Saturday night. So these days, I'm either having something done to me, or I'm shovelling food into my gob. Not a bad life, really.
Apart from wanting to kill everyone at Tesco today (nothing new there), I'm happy. My little boy makes me laugh my head off every day ("I'm not a boy, I'm a little man!"), we slept in our newly decorated bedroom last night and it was like being in a nice hotel (minus the maid service), and I'm going to stuff myself stupid with crispy duck in a few hours.
Birth-related panic may set in at a later date, though.