Labour tease

2 days away from my due date and no baby as of yet. I've started the bloody show, so that's a good sign. Woke up on Monday morning to go pee for the hundredth time and let me tell you I have never been so excited to see blood stained underwear in my life - I was like a kid at Christmas dancing around the bathroom. And it wasn't just the excitement of getting one step closer to meeting my child, it was the excitement of knowing this pregnancy is almost over.

I'm sure I'll look back on these nine months fondly, the good will out weigh the bad because at the end of it all it will make me a mother, but right now? Right now I am so done with this creating human life business. Over the course of these 9 months I've gained 25 pounds, had my dainty hands and feet replaced with stuffed sausages and elephant paws respectively and had an organ removed from my body. These last couple of weeks, and especially these last few days have been more than uncomfortable. And keep in mind that uncomfortable is the word people use so as not to frighten other childless women out of procreating one day.

People ask how I'm feeling. The honest answer? I feel exactly as I should. I feel as if I have about a 7lb human in a sac of liquid sitting directly on top of my genitals. If I move a certain way (you know, movements like bending, walking, breathing) it feels like I might crap out a child.

My darling daughter has now manoeuvred herself into a position such that she is often pinching a nerve that runs down my right thigh. I will be walking and suddenly dig my nails into the person next to me, fear and pain etched across my face as what feels like hitting your funny bone combined with stabs from a small dagger take over my leg. This addition to my realm of "uncomfortability" has been going on for three days. The first time it happened I fell on top of the Frenchman life Bambi learning to walk, now I just grimace and keep going. It is amazing how your body integrates pain. Doesn't make me complain about it any less of course. At this stage, where I can't drown my sorrows in cheap wine, stuff my face with sushi to lift my spirits or have a cheeky cigarette to calm my nerves - complaining is all I got. Well, complaining and cake of course.