Kat was due to have our baby on Monday. Two days later, she still looks pretty fat, and I can’t see any soiled nappies anywhere, so I guess that hasn’t happened. This isn’t a new, or shocking phenomenon; first babies are often a week late – in some countries your due date for the first is 41 weeks rather than 40.
However, what’s weird for me is that the reality of the situation seems to be decreasing. For three weeks now, I’ve been going to work, expecting a call at any moment, “IT’S COMING!”, followed by a frantic dash back home, en route to the hospital.
Instead, nada. Every day that passes it feels less real. A week ago, I was like, “I’m literally going to have a son any moment”. Now, I’m more, “Is this actually going to happen?”
I can almost believe that the whole thing is going into reverse now, that the baby peaked, we missed our opportunity, and now its getting smaller again. I said this to Katherine yesterday, and then the midwife visited, telling her that the baby was smaller than last week! Apparently this was because he is curled up under her rib cage, and thus harder to measure… but I’m not so sure.
In other words, we may, or may not be having a baby this week. Beyond then, who can say?