Time to get outa here dad!

We went for what should have been the penultimate scan today. When we sat at the desk the gynaecologist asked if my wife was giving natural birth or if she was having a caesarean. That didn't exactly install me with confidence, seeing as the previous week she had told us that we had to book a caesarean at the hospital that very day. She may have a number of patients, but she also had our file on her desk and our details on the computer in front of her. She was also wearing the most peculiar outfit too-fairy like leggings supporting what I would politely describe as an apple figure. Except that the apple looks at you front on. I've refrained myself from asking when HER due date is. That aside, high blood pressure, calcifying placenta and not much amniotic fluid to swim around in, means that our child arrives a bit sooner than expected.

Everyone seems to think that it should be sooner than this coming Tuesday, and I hope the gynaecologist's decision had nothing to do with the imminent long weekend. I do hope she spends it shopping for a new outfit.

So how do I feel about this new surprise? It feels like I'm meant to write a school final exam, which is two weeks away and somebody suddenly says it's been changed for tomorrow. I feel totally unprepared, because I am. I was going to sort out the baby room next week and now that week is gone. I think my reality has returned from it's long vacation. So that chicken that I spoke of in my previous post, now has a thousand heads, all rolling around in different directions.

So Tuesday is B-day.  I'm excited of course, but I'm concerned about my reaction to blood and cutting flesh.  
It's fine when it's my own blood. I only notice that I'm injured when things get sticky. So much so, that I'm sure that one day I'll try and comb my hair, only to see that my arm is no longer there. But that's what that gas mask on the wall in the delivery room is for, right? Breathe in, breathe out.

You're looking really swell!

I didn't realise that women swell so much during the latter stages of pregnancy. I believed that swelling was restricted to the feet. My wife has lost her ankles and if I look down on at her lower bits, I'm reminded of a Russian peasant on the outskirts of Siberia. So I express my relief that they will not always remain so. Her hands have swollen, and she pointed out that her nose had too. It's like having my own Michelin Man. Before I am painted as callous, I must assure you that I have refrained from teasing her about her changing shape. Instead, I comment about her "glow", which is great, as it helps me locate her during power outages.

I watched my son squirm in his little womb last night. It reminded me of the first horror movie I watched when I was nine years old.. It was the first "Alien" movie and I remember the scene as if I watched it yesterday. One of the spacemen had an alien inside them, and their stomach was pulsating, moments before the alien ripped through his flesh in an explosion of white gunk. Thankfully he relaxed afterwards, (my son) but it was an amazing thing to see. The other thing I saw was a new dad with his trolley outside the supermarket. Inside he had his newborn baby in a carrier cot, and the look on his face made me want to choke. (with emotion, that is). In the brief moment that I saw his expression, it seemed that this little person was the only thing that existed in the world. It really was quite beautiful.

Other than that, there seems to be some error regarding the due date. The assessment clinic said the gyno was wrong and that it was a week after. The gyno says that they are wrong and it is a week earlier. So we've  
booked in for the second of April for a C-section.

I'm selling my "stuff" for the baby fund, as this pregnancy couldn't have come at a worst time, financially speaking. The first thing to go was the double bed in what will now be the baby's room. I could only get a less than a tenth of what it cost, which really irks me. I believe that our cat, Misery, was far more upset than I was. He cried when he saw his number one resting place was gone and afterwards became a little violent. He jumped on the baby cot and started clawing things, and then ran out in a huff. I hope he gets over it.

There is still so much to do with regards to the room, I feel like a chicken without a head. Piles of piles that shift like drifting sand from room to room. My just desert (sic) for having not tackled it earlier?

Three weeks to go (or sooner)

It's not long to go now, before he pops out, or is excised. I have spent weeks moving my collection of "things" (That I will never need until I get rid of them) from one area to another. This has freed up around one square metre in the baby room, so I hope he's not too big when he arrives.

I woke up the other night and the first thing I saw were a pair of huge feet. For a second I thought I'd woken up next to Michael Phelps, and things were going swimmingly until I realised that they were attached to my wife. They are so swollen with water retention that it sounds like I'm on a water bed. I'm sure she looks forward to a time when overall swelling is a thing of the past.

We had a good laugh the other night, and I've wondered if I should mention it on this blog, but after much deliberation I've decided, that I just have to. (with Michelle's consent of course)

We were talking about the ramifications of a natural birth versus a c-section, and she mentioned that she had started doing Kegel exercises. (pelvic floor exercises for those who don't know). This in itself was funny because I know my wife is averse to exercise in general, and I found it rather refreshing that she was now exercising from the inside out, and one that might even be beneficial to me, if I ever get round to that sort of thing again. I asked her how many puss-ups she had done? It was funny at the time, especially if one substitutes the first half with the colloquial version that the Cape Flats has become renowned for.

The cat, Misery,  has taken a liking to the baby carrier, and still has an attachment to the large tiger toy, that awaits junior. It's like a surrogate parent to him-he snuggles up to it every night. He still urinates on the baby room curtain, and I have to get him to stop that- it won't be a good example to the baby.