I was going to do a play on the whole 'apologies for the pregnant pause' thing, as it has been *a while* since my last post, but my sense of humour seems to have deserted me.
I am so chuffing pregnant.
So much for our tax baby. Apparently creature #2 gets her financial acumen from her father, and is showing no signs of arriving in a fiscally timely manner.
I have tried everything to get her out:
Walking: 4-5 miles a day over Christmas and the weekend. I thought this was more or less guaranteed, as I've convinced myself this was what brought on labour with Anna. But no, no baby for you!
Shagging: LK's response 'there's not enough gin'.
Trampolining: Yes I'm that desperate. No, it wasn't pretty, and I couldn't keep it up for more than 10 bounces at a time without needing to go to the loo. Come to think of it, the same happened with the shagging too.....
Breast Pump: Ahh, my old nemesis. Got milk? Yes. Baby? No.
Spicy Food: Indian food for lunch. I think the ensuing crampiness was indigestion though, although you should have seen LK's face when I told him I thought I felt a twinge. Possibly delight at welcoming a second child, or euphoria over not being approached to do the wild thing again.
Induction: My doctor's response 'but I'm not on call this week'. Me (under my breath as I'm terminally British) 'I don't care if it's you or not mate, any muppet can catch a baby'. When I tried a different tack and suggested that creature #2 is on the large side and that I didn't want a repeat of the great-rending-0f-2005 he said 'well, we know you're capable, you've done it before'. *Sigh*. Have decided not to wash my feet before my next appointment with him and the stirrups. That'll teach him!
Cleaning Floors: Nobody needs to have a baby that badly.