Impatience

The last few days have confirmed something I already knew about myself. I am rubbish at waiting for things. I am very, very impatient to meet Baby A sometime soon.

At this point, I can hear those of you who have been pregnant, and have gone overdue, take a sharp intake of breath because, of course you know, I'm nowhere near due date yet. 12 days to go in fact. But I've persuaded myself that, given that I myself was a few days early, and that I've been getting a few niggling stomach pains, and that Baby A is massive, he is imminent.

The statistics would not agree. I read the other day that only 25% of first time pregnancies are early, with 5% on due date and around 70% overdue. Of those who have had first babies in the time I have been at Cuddesdon, all have gone significantly overdue. In Oxford, they let pregnancies go two weeks overdue before they induce. 7th August, my due date, seems long enough away. I'd need a telescope to see 21st August.

However, a complicating factor with me is that I am not normal (see *high risk pregnancy!* sticker on notes.) The community midwife suggested that, the chances are, if I get to due date and Baby A is not playing ball, they might just induce then and there, because he's as big as he's going to be and an induction would mean a more planned birth. I quite like this idea, as I find the thought of spontaneously rocking up to the John Radcliffe a little disconcerting, given that they have to arrange for a Paediatric Neurosurgeon to be present at the birth, in case the ill-fated Baby A cannot breath. But I guess they're used to these things. There's babies born there every day who have more risks at birth than Baby A.

Anyway, we're seeing the Fetal Medicine Consultant for a final scan tomorrow, so I'm hoping he'll shed some light on what he envisages happening from now.

In the meantime, Mr A and I are here in the flat. Neither of us enjoy the heat, and I am especially adverse to it at this time, for I am the size of a small elephant. Also, we are well into the overdraft and given that venturing out of the village seems to inevitably involve spending money, we're trying to stay at base. I have The Sims, an Alan Partridge audio book and a stack of books donated by Auntie Josh to entertain me. Oh, and my essay.

We haven't been complete recluses. We went out for a curry with Kate and Lawrence on Wednesday night, and visited New Marston at the weekend, and saw Felix and Laura for Pictionary last week. I fully intend on going to morning prayer at the church when it starts off next week.

Mr A is going to the Olympics on Sunday. When we decided, last year, that he, I and my parents would celebrate my 26th birthday by attending an Olympic event, we did not envisage a clash with the arrival of an as-yet-unconceived sprogling. The women's 3m syncronised diving final was selected, as we felt it was obscure enough that we would probably get tickets, and, lo, we did. At first, I was confident I would still be able to go, but as I got more lumbering, and with Baby A's complications meaning I need to stay close to the JR, I resigned myself to the fact I would not directly witness London 2012. I'm keen that Paul goes though. He is going with my Dad, my brother, and my brother's girlfriend. Mum is staying here and we're celebrating my birthday by cooking a roast, playing Scrabble and watching 3m diving on the TV.

I sort of thought the last few days and weeks prior to Baby A would be a mad rush buying last minute things, but to my amazement we're actually there. Our last purchase was £300 on a set of reuseable nappies, which has been the major contributor to the overdraft's sorry state, but given the price of disposables I think they'll pay for themselves.

We're prepared in other ways too, in that we actually have a name! Yes, a name! A name which, when I write it down, looks like a proper name which might belong to an actual person. 12 days to go, perhaps this is THE name? We're getting short of time if we're going to change our minds! We shall see....!