Cooked

So here I am, or rather we are, full term, fully cooked, ready to rumble... and obviously nothing is going on. It's a bit of an annoyance that you are done and dusted three weeks before you're due date. It isn't good for impatient types like me - and hopefully Bear. I'm convinced that this little wriggler has some of my twitchy, angsty, impetuous characteristics, so I'm hoping it'll think, 'hey, it's boring in here in all this warm fluid, I want to see what's going on out there, where all the noises come from.' Anyway, we'll see, if it wants to stay put, then that's fine.
When it does make its Big Appearance, we'll be heading to the Birth Centre at St Mary's, where we had our introduction on Saturday. Wow, what an amazing setup. We were really impressed. The ethos is that it's a home from home. At the hospital, so that you have all the medical backup that you need if things become complicated, but totally cut off from the big, noisy, bustling maternity ward. The place has calm written all over it. There are only ten midwives and you meet them all before you give birth. The rooms are seriously amazing (I'd say 4* hotel vibe) and the birthing pools are huge and indulgent. It'll be a struggle going drug-free, but I'm hopeful that I can manage it, and if not, I'll at least start there in peaceful tranquility and then transfer myself up for some epidural time. Either way, it's an amazing option and we felt very warm and calm while we were there.
It's been a very busy few days - hence my rather less than impressive bloggingness. On Saturday, after the birth centre, we had a wedding and then Aunty-to-be's 40th birthday. I wore heels for more than 12 hours. I just wanted to point that out.
On Sunday we spent a lot of time on the sofa recuperating. And then last night it was our final NCT class. It was all about the baby this time. How to hold the little tyke. how to feed it (again), burp it, you name it, we did it to a bean-bagged little dolly. Even the boys looked quite comfortable with the fake babies. Life is funny; I'm sure none of these men have even spent more than a couple of seconds holding a doll, and yet last night, they were cuddling and cooing at them until they were blue in the face (the men, not the babies). I suppose that's proof about how life changes - and for the better.