Christmas was wonderful, despite Marek succumbing to a 40 degree fever and spending the festive season in bed. It was a long-held family tradition of mine to watch Christmas unfold from the sofa, lying in my pyjamas, so it's sweet really that he took on this role from me, and allowed me to watch Christmas unfold from the sofa, dressed, but belly heavy and unmoving for much of the time the visitors rushed about preparing, entertaining, enjoying...
New Year was quiet, apart from the neighbours epic firework hour, which Elsie slept right through. We did stay up but apart from a quick new year peck and a glass of alcohol-free fizz for me, didn't celebrate like in days gone by.
Now we've managed to keep the baby in place past these markers though, we're keen to get her out. There is something in people's eyes as they walk past me in the street - partly impressed by the very size of the bump, partly terrified that they might be witness to the experience of bump becoming baby. The check-out girl who said 'courage, Madame,' with a mix of real pity and understanding in her eyes; the lady who took a seat next to me in a cafe and raved about 'the joy ahead'; the constant enquiries from friends and relatives - they are all well-meaning and make me feel we should enjoy this anticipation, but I have had enough of this stage. I want to meet her.
Past days have had their fair share of aches and stretchings, contractions start and stop, and I wake in the night, my hopes raised, only to fall asleep again and wake up as normal with Elsie's 'Mummy?' at 7 on the dot.
Marek has got himself a promotion at work. Elsie has moved to her big girl's bed without a murmur of dissent. Everyone's moving onwards and upwards apart from me and my bump. Out you come girl, time to face the world.