When I found out for sure that I was pregnant it was a little more than eight months to go. At the time it felt like an eternity. Suddenly it's only eight weeks left. 58 freaking days - including a trip to Watford, a wedding, a Christmas and a new years eve - until an entirely new life begins.
To celebrate this in fashion I've bought fake UGG boots because I can't tie my shoelaces anymore, and the expecting father has bought a onesie. Where did we go so wrong?
On a less radical note, I saw the midwife today and the baby is following the expected growth curve exactly. It also kicks me that hard in the ribs I can't sleep at nights and it feels like the worst muscle ache I've ever had at days. I never thought that could be described as wonderful, but it is.
Remind me I said that in a month's time.
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