The countdown has begun. Duckling #2 is due in 8 days. She is well engaged and ready to go, and my midwife estimates at least 8.5 lbs already (I sincerely hope I don't go too over my due date therefore, or she's going to be colossal).
It is hard to explain the feeling of being so close to a totally inevitable event but still so uncertain about when it's actually going to happen. I had forgotten the stress. Despite being gigantic, exhausted, uncomfortable and struck by regular electric cramps in my leg and back whenever I stand up, I am still nesting like crazy and want everything to be perfect and prepared, just in case. I plan to have a home birth, so it's not just a matter of having a bag packed, nursery ready and the car seat fixed - I need the pool inflated and a box full of towels and bin liners to hand, plus the hospital bag in case I do have to transfer in, and a rucksack for Duckling so he can go to Grandma's, and a torch, and a sieve (don't ask), and clean nighties, and food and coffee for the midwives, and, and.... Just in case. Just in case it's tomorrow.
The problem is, nobody else seems to be aware that she could come tomorrow and that EVERYTHING NEEDS TO BE READY. We have a half finished kitchen and extension downstairs, with no proper flooring, just concrete screed. I have to give birth in that room and there are still wires hanging out of the walls everywhere and a semi open soil stack causing an intermittent poo pong to fill the whole house. "The guys will come to finish off the electrics over the weekend," says my builder. "NO! EVERYTHING NEEDS TO BE READY NOW" I scream internally as I smile sweetly and actually say "Oh, right, are you sure they can't come any sooner?...".
With more work to be done, Drake is very reluctant to inflate my birth pool as it will be a fairly significant obstacle for the electricians. I just want it up, with all the associated paraphernalia stacked neatly next to it, clean and sterile and accesible. "Well, if you do go into labour, I'll have time to inflate it and fill it I'm sure," he says "I'll need something to do." "NO! THERE MIGHT NOT BE TIME! EVERYTHING NEEDS TO BE READY NOW!" I do actually shout at him. He doesn't get the polite treatment our builder does.
Even poor Duckling is getting the brunt of my irritation, as he is blissfully unaware of the urgency with which all needs to be prepared, and insists on unpacking every case I pack, unsorting every mess I tidy and interrupting every attempt to finish a task with a cry of "MUMMY, I need a snack / drink / poo / you to rescue this dinosaur from a tree with my fire engine because it's a MEMERGENCY!" Not as much of a Memergency as it will be if the brand new sofa isn't properly covered in plastic shower curtains Duckling. "PUT THE SHOWER CURTAIN BACK CHILD!".
Part of this panic is totally self-inflicted - my fault for insisting on a hippy dippy home birth in the midst of a major building project. But having fought so hard to actually have my midwife attend my birth at home (thank God she eventually managed to secure an honorary contract through the NHS), it seems a bit pathetic to now opt for a hospital delivery just because some of our skirting board is missing and there are no blinds on the bifolds yet. Actually that last one probably IS important if I ever want to be able to look our neighbours in the eye again. Nothing some brown paper and bluetack can't fix though I'm sure.
Deeply middle class circumstances aside, the desire to be as ready as possible to welcome your baby is surely universal. It's not just a crazy female hormonal drive. It's a recognition of the fundamental life change that is about to assault you, and the knowledge, perhaps even more stark for me this time having done this once before, of the pain and focus involved; and the total exhaustion and selfless abandonment of free time, autonomy and personal space that follows. Things need to be prepared - for the birth and beyond - while you still have higher brain function, two hands and half an ounce of sanity.
I should count myself lucky. Some women never get the opportunity to prepare. I often think the shock of suddenly having a baby days, weeks, or even months before you expected one must compound the trauma of prematurity more than many let on. Your baby isn't ready. But neither are you.
So yes, I am fortunate to have this time. It will be fine. We will be prepared. Maybe not ready for our second. I'm still not sure I'm ready for the first. But in a practical sense, we should be mostly there. And really, if I don't have time to corral all my random maternity pad purchases into one bathroom, or clear enough former garage junk from Ducklingette's "nursery" for a change mat to go on the floor, will it really matter? Probably not. I'll still try to tick those things off tomorrow though. You know, just in case...