I feel bad for wanting this baby out now. I have friends who struggle to stay pregnant and for whom every additional day the baby stays within, their chances increase. And here I am, wishing my baby would crack on before my actual due date.
But then I feel bad because I'm so pregnant, I'm a basic failure of a mother. I daren't do ANYTHING. Daren't take Fatbum to the shop or the park, daren't make any plans. He is bored out of his toddlerish mind. I have people to take him for me, but these are our last days as just Mummy and Fatbum and I'm wishing them away.
I'm getting a few signs that I may not be pregnant forever. Nothing definite. I rather think he may come at the weekend, but knowing my poor judgement, I'll probably go WEEKS overdue.
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