…days to go – supposedly, at least that’s what my Lilypie sticker says that it’s left to the 40 week mark. I’ve been dipping into nesting reflex recently which resulted in me sending my husband out on an errand to hunt some crochet hook and yarn, so I can practice a bit before my real crocheting order comes around – which, so far, doesn’t seem to. I blame Easter, busy postal services and so on. The taste to crochet is blamed on nesting reflex.
I’ve managed to hook up my first creation which, amusingly, turned out in a shape of a newborn hat. Wonder why, don’t you?

It’s a bit shabby as it is first try, and I am not really automated in the movement, plus the yarn tends to split which makes me go a bit crazy – I am also really easy to distract at the time, so if anything requires counting or regularity, I’m bound to screw it up. I’ve managed though within the two hour visit of my in-laws to play around a bit and create something. Which is, well, something.
Maybe I can crochet in the first stage of labour, to distract myself…? Ok, I guess not. One can dream.
I am a little panicky recently as I am only a week from biting into the 9th month pie; however not because I’d be afraid to give birth, on the contrary, I look forward to it, although a little worried about how it will go in Kuwait and how much difference will there be between my idealized imagination and the cruel reality; no, not that. What panicks me is the reduced fetal movement, as I got used to the little fella poking, throbbing, turning and twisting around till a point I was so sore from inside, and he stopped doing that in the recent days. I mean, he still moves, but much less. I am aware of the fact that this is the time where reduced movements occurs due to the space running out and so on, but hey, explain it to a pregnant brain at 5*40 in the morning, that I really don’t need to rush into my husband’s room shaking him violently to go for a heart monitor. I know the baby’s asleep, I know that eating chocolate, sipping some cold Pepsi and showering and moving around wakes babies up, yet I will still, again and again, wake up in the middle of the night or early morning, poking my belly around to annoy the babe to the bits so he will give me a poke back – and I can calm a little down and sleep. Right, if not sleep, at least I can keep myself away from giving my husband an early morning heart attack.
I believe I do worry so much due to the previous M/Cs, which make me, now running in the finishing line, so paranoid.
And hence, bring on the due date! (So I can start panicking about SIDS instead, as I did with Dori.)