Week 28, 12 weeks to go! Holy crap! Father Time is just plain wicked, when you need him to move along with some speed he sits down on a park bench and feeds the ducks but when you could benefit from as much time as possible he hops on his scooter and puts his foot down. This is me thumbing my nose at Father Time, I will complete my “to do” list by the time the little “Petal” arrives so bully to you! This despite the fact that the list is the length of a dress makers measuring tape and I’m hoping the little Petal takes her time. Last weekend was spend washing all of the Butterfly’s baby blankets, toys and clothes I had kept as well as some hand me down blankets and toys I have received from friends here. The Butterfly and I also got stuck into the cot and gave it a really good clean, the paint work my clever Dad did on it is still good, thank goodness! I have also found some lovely bright pictures for the walls of the nursery; those went up during the week. Scratch those off the list and then add, storage, changing table and feeding chair! Hmmm...
Its times like these when I really miss my folks, my very talented mum has a mind that is drowning in ideas just dying to be used and my clever dad always seems to come up with a way to make mum’s ideas reality. That’s not to say the Mauritian and I are lacking in imagination, ideas or ability it’s just nice to have someone else to go to and say “HEEEEEEELP!!!” Of course most of the friends we have made here are so willing to lend a hand and we have on numerous occasions called on their generosity and have been helped greatly. But, been able to go to someone and tell them what we need or want knowing that no matter how badly I explain myself they’ll understand, is just so much easier sometimes.
On the scale of things 12 weeks is plenty of time, all we need to do is set aside a weekend and dedicate it entirely to completing the nursery, starting with prioritising the “to do” list. I’m sitting here typing this while the list runs around and around in my head and I’ve suddenly realised that so much of what I want doesn’t have to happen before the little Petal arrives. It would be nice to get it all before hand, but it does ease the load a bit. In reality twelve weeks is more than enough time to get it all done yet I am in a constant state of urgency about it, constantly fearing I’m not going to have it done in time. It must be that nesting instinct has to be that, right? I don’t remember having such intense feelings of urgency with the Butterfly, but the circumstances then where so different. The only person here I can turn to for help is the Mauritian and he has no clue what I’m going on about when I get all freaky about running out of time. As far as he’s concerned there are plenty of weekends available to get things done and no point trying to get it all done now! Before the Butterfly was born I turned to my very talented mum who just went with it and what I needed built or painted she enlisted my clever dad to do, the Mauritian got off scot free. No such luck this time round, poor guy, I think his poor head is spinning; he appears to be walking around with a bemused expression on his face all the time at the moment. Perhaps I should ease up on him a little.
Of course twelve weeks is plenty of time to get everything done but it’s scary to think that in just a short twelve weeks time our lives will change irreversibly once again. The truth is I am absolutely terrified and not looking forward to the birth. I’m not entirely sure why, but I think I can attribute it to being more aware of how things work and that they never turn out as planned. When it comes to pregnancy, birth and motherhood ignorance is pure bliss, in my case at least! Having been through an augmentation and induction followed by an “emergency” epidural caesarean section and not been able to breast feed I have stubbornly stood my ground that this time around I will deliver naturally minus the pain killers! I am fully aware that because of my previous caesarean I may not be able to deliver naturally, but I don’t believe that will be the case. My midwife has told me over and over that I am allowed to change my mind; no one will tell me I’m wrong. The Mauritian keeps telling me he doesn’t care what I chose as long as both the Petal and I are fine at the end of it all. I’ve had so many different reactions from friends and family and different levels of support for my decision and that has helped to keep me steadfast in my decision. On the outside at least, introspectively though is a different matter. I find myself thinking that maybe I should just go the Caesar route it allows me more control and from past experience, less pain and it’s the method of childbirth I am familiar with. But then I argue back, that’s just taking the easy way out and besides no matter how painful or difficult it may prove to be all I have to do is not change my mind until I can’t and by then it’ll all be over. But, argues my timorous self, you may go through all this anxiety and pain only to have to undergo the caesarean anyway, is it really worth it then. My stubborn, determined self hesitates for just a moment, and then it dawns on me! You know what; nobody knows what’s going to happen on the day. My midwife can only speculate, the obstetrician can only be informative and explore options and the Mauritian, the little Petal and I have no say in the end. In the end, how and when the little Petal makes her way into the world is known only to God Himself. I will do what needs to be done to ensure the safe arrival of my child and I will do it by putting my faith and trust in the same God who has directed my entire life with or without my approval. Doubt be damned I can do this!
So with my resolve strengthened and my confidence restored I shall face my midwife at my next appointment stubbornly refusing to consider changing my mind!