I am unnerved. Pregnancy goes very slowly, as a general rule. After all, you're pregnant for about three-quarters of a year...and I *did* find out very early on that I was in pig...so I feel like I've been pregnant for ages. Which I have. Except that pregnancy is like tortoises. It seems to move very, very slowly. And then you look up, and it's out of sight. Among the long grass. Right at the other end of the garden. Bloody miles away.
OK, I've slightly overworked my analogy there, but basically, that's how one day I was staring at two blue lines on a less than hygienic stick, and now suddenly I'm the size of a WW2 barrage balloon and my midwife is booking me into antenatal classes and saying things like "practise your breath control for labour." Somehow, five months have passed in the time it took me to drink a hot chocolate, and I'm about to give birth in a matter of weeks. Bloody hell.
I have a bag packed with the most hideous nightdress you ever saw (I chose one that could only be improved by splatting my placenta on it at 30mph), pants I didn't mind throwing away afterwards, isotonic sports drinks, clothes that won't cling, baby clothes, tiny weeny hats, scratch mittens and a whole bunch of stuff I never even thought of, including socks. (Apparently while I am shoving a human head out through my knicker area, yelling, grunting and swearing creatively, I will also be thinking, "Goodness, my feet aren't half cold.") I'm going to need all this stuff soon.
How did this happen so fast? I'm scared, people. Happy, but scared.