Week 35: Getting more real
Today is 34+6, which makes tomorrow 35+0. So as the 35th week comes to a close, what's in store for the immediate future? And the next 5 weeks?
Mainly three things: Panic, panic, and panic. Sounds like Tony Blair's 1997 election priorities of "education, education and education". Turns out that was "spin, spin, and John Prescott's spin". But this panic isn't likely to do a governmental U-turn.
Ante-natal classes start up next week, not looking forward to that. With large groups I'm half expecting it to be dumbed down to the lowest common denominator. I hope I'm wrong.
It's all getting a little real now, the bags are starting to get packed, the baby's room has been cleared, decorated, filled with rubbish, cleared again. This last week's highlights have been:
1) Buying the car seat
2) Fitting the car seat
3) Panic setting in over not being able to remove the base for the car seat from the ISOFIX mounts as the manual was in its own little pocket between the base and the back of the main seat, unnaccessible
4) Falling heart-rate when I got the base off without the manual
5) Washing the first clothes, knowing that the "I want to hang them on the line" cutey-cute moment will soon turn to "you hang out the f*cking washing, I've changed 7 nappies today"
Oh, joy...
And on a serious note, Edinburgh Evening News ran a story yesterday about the number of hospital transfers in and out of Simpson's (the Royal Infirmary's maternity unit) and it's quite alarming. As Simpson's is one of four Scottish super sized units with all the trimmings they take high risk and premature births from around the country. Which mean local uncomplicated births get farmed out elsewhere.
So what's the problem? Well, two things for me.
1) The possibility of getting there, parking the car, then getting whisked off to the other end of the British Isles in an ambulance. And all the while the car parking charges are racking up. No doubt I'd have to follow in the car anyway, and miss the main event.
2) One of the Evening News story's subjects was a mum who was airlifted to Manchester from Edinburgh. MANCHESTER???? As a devout Yorkshireman no child of mine will be born that side of the Pennines. Now this has scarred me.
** I actually meant to type scared me, not scarred me, on that last line. But I'll leave it as is. **
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