MY LAST DAY

Ok, it isn't my last day forever, and I will be back, but for the foreseeable future, I won't be coming to work at The Times anymore, and that is a surreal feeling! I am excited to have a bit of a life-breather. I know, all you mothers out there are laughing into your sicky muslins, in the knowledge that having a baby isn't a breather in the slightest. But a change is as good as a rest, as they say, so it'll be nice to have a new pace to my life.
To not have to sit on the Bakerloo Line (and then the District and Circle) for close to two hours everyday is going to be an amazing relief. And then, there is the whole desk thing, that's been getting progressively more uncomfortable. From now on, I'm going to keep my legs stretched, my back extended, and generally be a lot more pleasant to be around.
It is sad leaving the job though. I love all my colleagues and the work is fun and stimulating. Ho hum, but I'll be back, under my new 'working mother' guise.

And the celebrations begin

Look at these cute biscuits that were sent as a gift from the very lovely RobinaPRextraordinaire today. There are 4 more layers underneath, so we're all on a sugar high and loving it. So many work colleagues have been emailing and calling to wish me well, that it makes me feel a bit sad. Anyway, I'm sure once I'm lounging about next week, not a care in the world (in theory, at least), it will put pay to that work nostalgia. And my work friends will still be here when I return.
Last night we had another NCT class. This one was more relaxed and everyone seemed chattier and laughed more. We did some good Dad-on-Mum massage action, lots of swaying, which the boys all found hilarious, and contraction practise with a soundtrack that had a sharp noise that got progressively louder and then tailed off. The teacher, Ruth, gave the boys some useful encouragment phrases; the one I liked the best was 'Well, you'll never see that contraction again, it's gone. Well done.' She said to take each contraction separately and I'm going to try and follow her advice. Let's see how long I last before I crumple into a heap of panic and call in the anaesthetist. Anyway, there was lots of useful information, as before, and she always takes time to talk about the baby too, which I think is important.
With just over 4 weeks until Due Date (mine, not the release of the film, which actually looks very amusing), I'm starting to really believe that this baby is coming. I just need to put some art up on the walls of the nursery, roll out the rug and basically act on all these nesting instincts. DH won't recognise the flat after I've been home alone with a hammer and some picture hooks.

The Profile Diaries: entry number 5

Well here I am, with a big, stripy nearly-9-month bump. You will be sad to know that this will be the last toilet photography on the blog, because from next week, I'll be all warm and snuggly - and not restricted to a office bathroom mirror - at home. Oh yes, it feels great. Actually, it feels kind of normal. Despite me only having 2 days left at Times Towers, it's kind of like every other week. It's hard to imagine not doing the daily commute, or chatting to my work colleagues or writing news stories, such as the one I've just compiled on men's grooming. Did you know that one in seven men wears eye liner?! Me neither.
Last night, as I was falling asleep it suddenly struck me that this baby inside, this little person, is, well, it's own little being. I had this pointed out to me because after a long soak in the bath, a lovely massage (thanks DH) and some restful chat time, my body was feeling as close to a temple of relaxation as I've known for some months. When we turned off the lights every muscle felt warm, and soft. Then the Bear started kicking. I think it was saying, 'Oi, you might want to relax and chill but I'm my own person, you know, and actually, if you're asking, 11pm is playtime, so stuff your heavy muscles, I'm going to have a p-a-r-t-y.' I think it had a good time, because it was dancing for ages. It's fair enough, I suppose. The bear isn't me, and I'm not the bear. At the moment, my body is its home, but that doesn't mean we need to do the same thing at the same time. Clearly, this little bubba has a strong will (mmm, wonder where it gets that from?!) and it won't stop having a bit of a kick for anyone. In a way, it was kind of sweet. After a while, the bear calmed down, and wait for it, I slept. So actually, everyone ended up happy.
Although the bear has it's own routine and likes to do its own thing sometimes, it does at least sleep through the night. Really, it never wakes me up and only re-activates when I start talking in the morning - then, kicking resumes as normal. The bear is kicking now, in fact. It probably knows I'm typing about it and wants it's own say. Well, sorry bear, but you're going to have to make an appearance if you want to actually get in on the action.

Something else to clutter up the house - I mean, welcome the baby with...

This seems like a very nifty product to make life easier with a newborn. It's by Stokke and it's an attachment to thier already hugely successful toddler seat. I know it's hugely successful because two of our little friends (ages: 3 1/2 and 4 1/4) have them, and even us adults have been known to perch happily on their comfortable seat bottoms for long dinners and general down time. This, above, is to stop the baby-screaming-on-the-floor-while-you-eat situation. Apparently, little ones don't like being ignored. Big ones don't like being ignored either; I should know, I'm the Queen of give-me-attention. So I'm thinking the Pullen Bear will be too, and probably won't enjoy being in a bouncer on the floor while we all eat roast chicken. Maybe this is the answer? I won't be buying it now, I need to have this little bubba first, but it's on the metaphorical back-burner.
I am fully aware that I haven't uploaded my Profile Diaries yet this week. I would have done it today, but I'm wearing a denim dress and it doesn't really mould around the bump, so you'll get no sense of any shape changes. I'll wear something tighter and more bump-friendly tomorrow and will upload immediately. As an aside, I feel like my old self today. This dress has been around for donkey's years, and I'm wearing it with my Gap black/white stripy long sleeve (bought circa 2005) and a red Kookai cardigan (bought circa 1998 - I'm not kidding). This is a classic Alice combo and amazingly, the bump fits in treat. This outfit sure as hells beat the floral dress I wore yesterday. I mean, unbelievably, I actually received some positive feedback from people in the office, but pale pink (even over black tights) does nothing for one's bump proportions. I looked like a hippo, in a not very cute way.
I know that once Saturday rolls around and I no longer need to look 'smart' for the forseeable future, it'll be all Ugg boots and leggings - and I can't wait. Working out what to wear in the morning is an unfair obstacle to an already tiring day. And frankly, I'm over it.

While I struggle with my wardrobe..

French Connection decides now is the time to launch a maternity line. First thought (after, wow, that girl looks hot), is, er, 'couldn't you have thought about this maybe, I don't know, six months ago?'
The clothes are fabulous and for all my newly pregnant readers, they'll be on asos.com this week, so don't decline those festive party invites just yet. Seriously, there are some great dresses in the collection. They're as nice as I am bitter... just saying.
Anyway, moving swiftly on. Today is my last Monday in the office. Hoorah. I might be commiserating myself on missing the French Connection boat, but I'm jolly in the knowledge that as I write this, I have just 4.5 days left in the office. That includes one day that I may work from home, so it could mean just over 3 days left commuting, stretching in the toilet, getting 'haven't you popped yet' glances from people I don't know at The Times, and a general rush every morning as my body takes its own, slow, pace, and I invariably turn up late. I can't really imagine what it's going to be like not working for quite some time. I mean, my gmail account gets about three messages a day (if it's lucky), whereas my one at The Times, well put it this way, it isn't even 3pm yet, and I'm already on 200 odd. It'll be hard relinquishing my brain from all that internet chitter chatter. But I'm determind to hand my Blackberry back at the end of the week (RIP BBM), and I will try not to miss it a jot. I'm thinking that shopping will have to replace emailing for the first few weeks. What? At least I'm not going to start smoking!

After all that chat....

...the buggy arrived. It doens't actually look like this yet, it's more of a flat-packed box at the moment, but it's at home, ready to put together, and it makes me feel calmer and more prepared. The car seat has also arrived, so now we can legally take our baby home from the hospital. It is also currently in a cardboard box, but hey, hopefully the Bear will arrive after we've done the recycling!
We also have a poo bin. Thrilling.
I had a good midwife appointment yesterday. I hadn't seen Claire before, but she was attentive, gave me lots of time, and we chatted through everything that I've been experiencing over the past week or so. She has referred me to the birth centre at St Mary's, so I'll be continuing my ante-natal care there from now on. I'm intrigued to see this marvellous birth centre. It's meant to be fab and hotel-like, so I'll report back once I've done the tour (but presumably, before I get the t-shirt).
While the midwife was measuring me, the Bear decided to do a little dance. It was pretty amusing for all involved (I'm almost positive the little one was having a laugh at us from the inside too). So now, in my notes, it says something like 'lots of fetal movements reported by mother, and I saw quite a few myself too!' I think that was nice of her. Being a bit human, having a sense of humour and generally just being nice and friendly counts for a lot when you feel like a big house on two small legs.
I had a real wardrobe meltdown this morning. Dresses have become tops and tops have become, well totally redundant, and I'm always too warm, or too cold, and even with my 6 years as a fashion journalist, I'm never sure what to put my feet in, in this cold but sunny weather. So I tried on several outfits, had a mini (internal) strop and am now all in black. I'm never all in black. It's not me, but it was the least offensive option and thankfully, my body temperature seems to be resting somewhere around normal.
Tomorrow we are off to Bicester to buy DH a new suit. I'm playing the dutiful wife - mainly because I know there is a White Company there that sells cheap baby grows.

A doll in a plastic cervix

We had our first NCT class last night. It wasn't particularly well timed, seeing as it was DH's birthday and Spurs had some big match that the boys found hard not to focus on... but anyway, we made it to the house in Belsize Park and so began our education in getting this little Bear out into the real world.
I am happy to report that my group seems very nice indeed. Surprisingly, I think I was one of the youngest in the room. This says a lot about first time mothers in North West London, but was good, because there weren't any annoying ones, and everyone laughed together at certain things, so I think we'll get on and they'll be a nice support 'on the other side'.
We started by introducing ourselves, and talking about one positive thing we thought about the pregnancy. Ours was a kind of pathetic 'it's been easy', type thing, but there were some lovely stories about couples really connecting together and you could tell that everyone had enjoyed the experience so far. Despite being one of the youngest, I'm actually, on the paper, second in line, to pop. Obviously, due dates don't mean jot, so we'll see where I end up in the birthing order.
Ruth, our teacher, is enthusiastic, and managed to rouse a few glazed-over male eyes, despite all the technical terms and general information overload. We looked at the position of the baby (hence the doll) and did some collective breathing to teach us how it helps with pain; we were all leaning back on our knees at the time and had burning thighs. This was difficult enough with an 8 month bump, so I'm not sure how I'll cope during labour. But best not to think about that now.
Aside from the chocolate digestives, the highlight was probably the film she showed at the end about 'skin to skin' touch straight after the birth. It should little James who had just been born and managed to find his own way to his Mummy's booby. Amazingly, he then instinctively pressed down around her nipple to get the colostrum flowing, and we all coo-ed and ah-ed at the marvel that is childbirth. Another thing I didn't know is that when you are skin to skin with a newborn, the mother's temperature will rise or fall depending on whether the baby needs heating up or cooling down. Wow, isn't life amazing.
We finished with a relaxing, close-the-eyes type session, where Ruth talked about the fact that no wonder babies cry. They have always been carried, and never put down, they've haven't had to ask for food, thanks to a continual supply via the umbilical cord and they miss the reassuring sound mummy's voice, which has been the backdrop to it's life so far. It was rather moving in a way. And then we came home to watch Mad Men.
This was a good distraction, but didn't prevent me from lying in bed and rethinking all the information imparted on us earlier in the evening. The result of all this mental evaluation: 3 hours sleep.