It was 7 am on Wednesday the 22nd of February. As I groggily opened my eyes and met the bright sunshine of my bedroom, the disappointment kicked in. I was, at a guess, roughly 9 months Over It. Unfortunately, I was not one of those women who relished being pregnant. Although there were pockets of goodness in it, to be honest, I would rather have been able to maintain a socially acceptable level of emotional stability, or at the very least, to have been able to bend forward successfully.
Clearly, my Motherly self-sacrificing instincts were already going strong.
It was officially Due Date Day and yet when my eyes opened that morning, I realised that still I was waiting and waddling and tired-ing. Yes, I know that only 2% (or something like that) of babies are born on their due date, but I’m an optimist. I was hopeful.
Joel then woke.
“Mango?” he asked.
“No Mango.” I replied.
It had become our morning ritual.
I then spent a good 5 minutes summoning the strength to roll myself out of bed and with the gained momentum, propelled myself to a standing position. I waddled to the kitchen and put on some toast. At the exact moment the toast went pop, I suddenly stopped in my tracks.
“Joel!” I yelled excitedly.
He came running.
“Yeah?” he asked, his face lit up like a child’s at Christmas.
“I just lost my mucous plug!”
You know when people say that someone’s reaction can carry on ‘without missing a beat’? Well, Joel missed a beat. In fact, he missed a few beats.
We he finally answered, although his mouth formed the words Rach…that’s so exciting his face definitely formed the expression one keeps for when one’s insides would like to express a response more along the lines of Disgust.
Mucous Plug : Zero
Beginning of Labour : One