Darn it. I know only 4 or 5 per cent of babies are on time but Isabel raised expectations unnecessarily. I'm not complaining, because having two bodyguards (that would be mom and dad) who also cook and do impromptu babysitting is quite useful, but there is this bizarre feeling of disappointing all the people waiting, waiting for Charley Dex to come out.
So far? Just so you know: nothing. No signs, no twinges, no Braxton Hicks contractions, nothing. I don't even know if the baby's head is engaged (GP appointment tomorrow). But so it was the last time as well and my friend Jude, who gave birth last week, said her baby wasn't engaged either and apparently this is usually the way it is with number twos. So ah well.
In the meantime Izzy is all primed for the arrival: she knows if daddy has to take me to the hospital, kongkong and popo will look after her until daddy gets back to take her to see mummy and baby Charley (a present from Izzy's beloved Alessia, Za-Za's Baby Brother, worked a treat to reassure her on what to expect), so at least that's settled.
Mom has taken up knitting with great enthusiasm, and is busy going through my wool stash. She seems adamant on learning how to knit more socks, and I've finished this cute mouse for Jude's wee Juniper. So now to get back to the baby blanket I was working on. I just wish I hadn't gone slightly off the sugar pink that I'm using for that - the bright colours of some cotton/silk mix I bought are so much more alluring.
So until you hear otherwise: nothing.
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