another night another few hours watching early hours TV with sign language. I think Holby City is greatly improved with the addition of the little person waving their arms in the air on the bottom right of the screen.

So... we're now into single figure days before this little one arrives. Assuming they do actually arrive and don't become a medical miracle and remain in me until their 18th birthday. I still can't get my head around it, and am quite happy for it to remain within for a week or so longer. I guess if I had been suffering massively from pregnancy problems I;d be whining about wanting it out like all the other mums to be whose posts I read in the early hours on Babycentre, but as it is my body has been fairly kind and, despite the beached whale effect, swollen ankles, no sleep and constant wee-ing, I think I actually prefer this little one inside me where it can keep nice and quiet and not cry and expect me to do anything more than eat lots and keep it warm. It's the great unknown that terrifies me. Going from a job where I knew exactly what I was doing and was bloody good at (well I thought so anyway!) to the job of a mum where I know jack shit and there is a guarantee of regular failure, frustration, tears and tantrums - I'm beginning to wonder what on earth possessed me to consider this was a good idea!

Don't get me wrong, at the end of the day I do have faith in myself and mother nature - its all just a little scary and close now!